University of Virginia Library BL;181;.P3;1800 ALD Natural theology. From a late MN XX L445 ?éh: ‘ai shd de feat en ee oe LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIAPep eee ea my oo FS + 4 1 2 acd ’ fd Hi ss ‘ PS 4 4 4 4 i % n) ee ekneee ~ ee eS ene Perr ras 7. oe eeet eae ox 4 » 9) t i * seesiereseet Toes ee ee kd ee ee eee St Fe | ee ne eee re A i * D 7 4 i ? BY + 4 ) y ot rf rN ‘ eee a cree ere S|* ag NS VOT AY sas F | ee oe 2 ee eo ee ee eo Tt e rtePia JT,oe rere es eer eet Tes ee ee ey dS Re be Th ESR OS tale Bee Bs i oe ; a} ‘4 ‘ ; re 4 ee ea WSL Esc aasesasess ere ee ee ee oT rd3 ee) eI - i ee hnPLATE. V- Peret Toy eee re cw ae oe ee) 4 z i H t ae n rf Ps # te aif ? y * = ry t Ci * ” Se ees Tee eee eePLATE IV. \y A) rays aii iy, | Lis fi Uy) rt)es Peers yee eee ee ee er ee ee Coe ee NATURAL THEOLOGY 4 HOR A PAULI A i t d U7 5 bs i a i Re : : ot * : Se ee eee rere For re ae edNATURAL PH RHOsgerG YX: BY WILLIAM PALEY, DED i Ff ) ) ( Rr 7. ¥ ROM A LATI INDON EDLTION ‘2 ; > >» » > > ois ® , , , ’ , - 4 - B68 0 5 e* @ es .. s, ) > Ss 6? ® ee, ’ , ? > os 3 > > 9 3 > > > >> > ? a ; os 8 9 > > , , 2 : ; ? > . ee ’ >> . : , ; > > ) :> , >» . , >> > , <7? > > ’ > > > > » # > . > Rigs? PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIET., 1a MA SSAU-STREET,-NEW YORK sel yews sa we he FeF ss ae ee eee se eee ee ke a aad ps Pete ss vee ee Pere ee eee ey ee ee eSia ai te “ : es Carre fost vs ie iy c iets) tune a eats See tt te ey a | W a ae es an ioCONTENTS. CHAPTER L. STATE OF THE ARGUMENT, The stone and the watch, page 9; eight cases, 10-13. CHAPTER II. STATE OF THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED.------- 14 CHAPTER IIIf. APPLICATION OF THE ARGUMENT. Eye and telescope, 20; light—distance, 24; eyes of birds, 27; eyes of fishes, 28; minuteness of picture, 29; socket—eyebrow—eyelid—tears, 30; nictitating membrane—muscle, 31; expedients, 33; why means used, 33; ear, 39. CHAPTER IY. OF THE SUCCESSION OF PLANTS*AND ANIMALS. No account hereby of contrivance, 41; plants, 41; oviparous animals, 42; a . oa 4 } . ). Cys } os Wt . viviparous—rational animals, 43; instance from the gardener, 44. CHAPTER ¥. APPLICATION OF THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED. Repetition from Chap. I., 45; imperfection, 45; superfluous parts, 46; athe- istic argument, 47; remains of possible forms, 49; use arising out of the parts, 51; a principle of order, 54; of our ignorance, 99. CHAPTER Vi. THE ARGUMENT CUMULATIVE .------------- 57 CHAPTER Vil. THE MECHANICAL AND IMMECHANICAL PARTS AND FUNCTIONS OF ANIMALS AND VEGETABLES. Imperfection of knowledge no proof of want of contrivance, 59; on chemistry, 62 :- secretion, 63. CHAPT Ee VIII. MECHANICAL ARRANGEMENT IN THE HUMAN FRAME. Of bones. 68: neck, 68; forearm,69; spine, 71; chest, 76; kneepan. 77; shoulder-blade, 78; joints, 79; ball-and-socket, 80; ginglymus, S81: knee, 81; ankle, 82; shoulder, 82; passage of bloodvessels, 83; cristle, $4 ; movable cartilages, 85; mucilage, 85; how well the joints wear, 86 ; bones of the skull, 86. CHAPTER IX. OF THE MUSCLES. : 4 ps iy ; : 50. ee eens Suitableness to the joints, 87; antagonist muscles, 88; not obstructing one another, 90; action wanted where their situation would be inconvenient, Seer res Pets ee ee, ee ee ea Se ee oe Pe ee ee ee ee ie eg ee Ppa e Pt ee bee ak oe ee ee eeewe ee e ta CONTENTS 90; variety of figure, 91; how many things must be right for health, 92; variety, quickness, and precision of muscular motion, 93; tongue, 93; mouth, 94; nose, 96; music—writing, 96; sphincters, 97 ; combination of muscles, O7 ; delicacy of small muscles, 98; mechanical disadvantages, 98 ; single muscles, 99; lower jaw, 99; slit tendons, 100; bandage at the ancles, 101; ey es from appetency repelled, LOA; Keill’s enumeration of mus- cles, 102; why mechanism is not more s striking, 102; description inferior to inspection, 102; quotation from Steno, 103. CHAPTER: 2x. OF THE VESSELS OF ANIMAL BODIES The circulation of the blood, 104; disposition of the bloodvessels, 104 ; arteries and veins, 105. II. Heart, as receiving and returning the blood, 106; heart, as referable to the lungs, 108; v alves of the heart, 110; vital motion involuntary, 113; pericardium, 113. IIj. Alimentary system, ia passage of the food through the stomach to the intestines, 114; passage of the chyle through the lac ‘teals and thoracic duct to the blood, 115; length of ee ane 116; peristaltic motion, 116; tenuity of the lacteals, itil) valves of the thoracic duct, 117; entrance in the neck, 117; digestion, 117. IV. Gall-bladder, 120; oblique insertion of the biliary duct into the intes- tines, 120. V. Parotid gland, 121. VI. Larynx, 122; trachea—gullet— epiglottis, 12279123; rings of the trachea, 123; sens ibility, 124; musical instrument, 124; lifting “the hand to the head, 125. CHAPTER x1. OF THE ANIMAL STRUCTURE REGARDED AS A MASS. Correspondence of sides, 127; not belonging to the separat e limbs, 128; nor the internal contents, 129; nor to the fee ue vessels, 129. II. Pack- age, 130; heart, 131; lungs, 131; liver, 132; bladder, kidneys, pancreas, spleen, 132; omentum, 132; se pta of the Bae 133; pnts, 23d. Lik Beauty, 134; in animals, 135; in flowers, 135; whether any natural sense of beauty, 136. IV. Concealment, 137. Standing, 138. VI. Inter- na ted analogies, 140; periosteum at the teeth, 141; scarf-skin at the nails, 141; soft inteouments at the skull, 141. CHAPTER XII. COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. Covering of animals, 144; of man, 144; of birds, 145; structure of feathers, 145; black down, 148. II. Mouths of animals, 149; bills of birds, 150; serrated bills, 150; affinity of mouths, 151. II]. Gullets of animals, 153. IV. Intestines of animals, 153; valves or plates, 153; length, 154. V. Bones of animals, 154; bones of birds, 154. VI. Lungs of animals, 155: lungs of birds, 155. VII. coe oviparous, 155. VIII. Instruments of motion, 155; wings of birds, 156; fins of fish, 157; web-feet of water-fow] 159. IX. Senses of anim: ‘i 166. ; : COAPTER Saltt, CULIAR ORGANIZATIONS Pax-wax of : Guadimpeds, 162; oil of birds, 163: air-bladder of fish. 163; 1 Pane of viper, 165; bag o f opossum, 169; claw of heron, 166; stomach of camel. 167; tongue of woodpec ker, 167; bahyroussa. 168.CONTENT CHAPTER XIV PROSPECTIVE CONTRIVANCES. Teeth, 169; milk, 170; eye ca the fetus, 171; lungs of the foetus, 172; fora- men ovale, etc., 173. “ a — CHAPTER xX. RELATIONS Alimentary system, 176; kidneys, ureters, ar nd bladder, 179; eyes, hands, feet, 79: sexes, 180; teats and mouths, 180; particular relations, 180; swan, 180; mole, 181. Srp. Xe CHAPEER XVI. COMPENSATION. Elephant’s proboscis, 184; hook in the bat’s wing, 185; crane’s neck, 185; ll, 186; spider’s web, 156; multiplying- -eyes of insects, 186; eye- id of the chameleon, 187 ; intestines of the alopecias, 188; sni ail—mussel— bster 188; sloth—sheep, 190 ; ‘ore renee ocrbeniistiontl 190; lobster, want of fore-teeth—rumination, 190; in birds, want of teeth and gizzard, 191; reptiles, 192. ] cockle— CHAPEER XVII. THE RELATION OF ANIMATED BODIES TO INANIMATE NATURE Wings of birds—fins of fis! ‘r and water, 194; ear to the air, 194; organs of speech—voice and re spir ration to air, 194; eye to lig cht, 195; size of ani- mals to external things, 195; of the kee of the earth and sea to their elements, 196; sleep to night, 196. CHAPTER 2 VILL INSTINCTS ges of insects, 903: solution from sen- od ; Incubation of ergs, 199 ; deposition of e; sations Lael an 01s CHAPTER XIX. OF INSECTS Elvira of the scarabeus, 211; borer of flies, 212; sting, 213; proboscis, 214 ; “metamorphosis of insects, 215; care of eggs, 216; o ybservations limited to particular species, 217; thread of silk-worm and spider, 217; wax and honey of bee, 218; sting of bee, 220; forceps ol the panorpa tribe, 220; brushes of flies, 220; glowworm, 220 ; motion of the larva of the dragon- snail shells, 222; uni- fly, 221: gossamer spider, 221; shell animals, Ree; ae shell-fist , 223; bivalve, 993 - lobster shell, 224; variety of insects, 225. CHAPTER XX. OF PLANTS. 934: Preservation, per fecting, and dispersing of seed, 227; germination, 234; ten- 927 drils, 235; particular species, “07; V allisneria, 237; cuscuta Europea, 238: mistletoe, 238; colchicum autumnale, 238; dionea muscipula 240. esas Peer ee Pete ee oe eee ee eee ee ee ee eS et ee eS re Rg eR Yee eee ee ae pe ee ee oe rs Piss SeRetat eS Tere ee eeee ae CONTENTS. CHAPTERex xT. THE ELEMENTS. Consolidation of uses, 242. J. Air, 242; reflecting light, 242; evaporating fluids, 242; restoratives of purity, 243. II. Water, 243; purity, 244; insipidity, OAA « circulation, 244, III. Fire, 245; dissolvent power, 245. IV. Light, 245; velocity, 245; tenuity, 246; color, 246. CHAPTER XXIUF ASTRONOMY. Fixing the source of light and heat in the centre, 249; permanent axis of rota- tion, 251; spherodicity of the earth, 252; of centripetal forces, 253; attrac- tion indifferent to laws, 254; admissible laws, within narrow limits, 256; of admissible laws, the present the best, 257; united attraction of a sphere, the same as of the constituent particles, 257; the apsides fixed, 258; fig- ures of the planetary orbits, 260; Buffon’s hypothesis, 261 CAP PH xx T* OL aE Pah S ONAL IE Y OR TH DEVE Y. Not the object of our senses, 265; contrivane e proves personality, 267 ; misap- plication of laws, 269; mechanism, 270; second causes, 271: of generation as a principle, 274; atheistic UPR One os 275; Buffon’s organic nodules, 276; appetencies, 279; analogies by which they are supported, 281; cam- el’s bunch, 281; crane’s thighs, 281; pelican’s pouch, 281; analogy strain- ed, 282; solutions contradicted, 283 ; by ligaments—v alves, 283; by senses of animals, 284; by the parts without motion, 284; by plants, 284. CHA PAVE xX LV.. OF CHM NARURAL ATTRIBUTES OF THE DEITY. Omnipotence, 287; ommniscience, 287; omnipresence, 288; eternity, 289; self- existence, 289; necessary existence, 290; spirituality, 290. CHAPTERE xxv. eae UNI OF Wak) Die Tay. From the laws of attraction, and the presence of light among the heavenly bodies, 291; from the laws of nature yee our gl be, 291 ; resemblance of animals, 293 « fish, 292; insects and shell-fish, 293. x 7 ve CHAPMER XXVI. GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. From the nee 2 and faculties of animals, 295; ie actual happiness of young animals, 296; of winged insects and aph ide S,cv0= of fish, 297. I. P roper- ties of old. age, 298; of different animal habits; 299 : pre] ollenc -y of happi- ness, 299; causes of not obse rving it, 300; quotation, 301; apparent ex- ceptions, 303; venomous animals, 304 : animals of prey, 306. II. Pleas- ures of pee oll; peeeretion of senses, 312; property, origin of, 317; physical evils of i imperf ection, 318; of finiteness, 319; of bodily pain, 320; of mortal diseases, 322; of death, 393 - civil evils of populs ition, 324: 33 enn: 2 of w Bene 327 ; of id] eness, 329; objections from chance answered, 330; must be ch 1ance in the midst of desi ign, 330; ignorance of observance, 331; disease, 333; seasons, 333; station, 334; 334; sensible interposition, 335 probation, 337. CHAPTER: XX Vm. CONCLUSION. Natural religion prepares the way for revelation, 344. acquirability,NATURAL THEOLOGY. CRAP EE Ty P. STATE OF THE ARGUMENT. In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a stone, and were asked how the stone came to be there, I might possibly answer, that for any thing I knew to the contrary it had lain there for ever; nor would it, perhaps, be very easy to show the absurdity of this answer. But sup- pose I had found a watch upon the ground, and it should be inquired how the watch happened to be im that place, | should hardly think of the answer which I had before given, that for any thing I knew the watch might have always been there. Yet why should not this answer serve for the watch as well as for the stone; why is it not as admissible in the second case as in the first? For this reason, and for no other, namely, that when we come to inspect the watch, we perceive—what we could not discover in the stone—that its several parts are framed and put together for a purpose, e. g. that they are so formed and adjusted as to produce mo- tion, and that motion so regulated as to point out the hour of the day; that if the different parts had been differently shaped from what they are, or placed after any other man- ner or in any other order than that im which they are placed, either no motion at all would have been carried on in the machine, or none which would have answered the use that is now served by it. To reckon up a few of the plainest of these parts and of their offices, all tending to one result : We see a cylindrical box containing a coiled elastic spring, 1* vererr re rerrr rs epee ete eA S oe SAS ee ee eh ESS ESSE ST Se Cre TTT allele Se ete, ee ee eeSe ead ote 10 ONATURAL THEOLOGY. which, by its endeavor to relax itself, turns round the box. We next observe a flexible chain—artificially wrought for the sake of flexure—communicating the action of the spring from the box to the fusce. We then find a series of wheels, the teeth of which catch in and apply to each other, conducting the motion from the fusee to the balance and from the bal- ance to the pointer, and at the same time, by the size and shape of those wheels, so regulating that motion as to ter- minate in causing an index, by an equable and measured progression, to pass over a given space in agiven time. We take notice that the wheels are made of brass, in order to keep them from rust; the springs of steel, no other metal being so elastic; that over the face of the watch there is placed a glass, a material employed in no other part of the work, but in the room of which, if there had been any other than a transparent substance, the hour could not be seen without opening the case. This mechanism being observed— it requires indeed an examination of the instrument, and perhaps some previous knowledge of the subject, to perceive and understand it ; but being once, as we have said, observed and understood, the inference we think is imevitable, that the watch must have had a maker—that there must have existed, at some time and at some place or other, an artificer or artificers who formed it for the purpose which, we find it actually to answer, who comprehended its construction and designed its use. I. Nor would it, 1 apprehend, weaken the conclusion, that we had never seen a watch made—that we had never known an artist capable of making one gether incapable of executing such a piece of workmanship that we were alto- ourselves, or of understanding im what manner it was per- formed ; all this being no more than what is true of some exquisite remains of ancient art, of some lost arts, and, to the generality of mankind, of the more curious productions of modern manufacture. “Does one man in a million know how oval frames are turned? Ignorance of this kind exaltsTHE ARGUMENT STATED. Ly our opinion of the unseen and unknown artist’s skill, if he be unseen and unknown, but raises no doubt in our minds of the existence and agency of such an artist, at some former time and in some place or other. Nor can I perceive that it varies at all the inference, whether the question arise con- cerning a human agent or concerning an agent of a different species, or an agent possessing in some respects a different nature. II. Neither, secondly, would it invalidate our conclusion, that the watch sometimes went wrong, or that it seldom went exactly right. The purpose of the machinery, the design, and the designer might be evident, and in the case supposed, would be evident, in whatever way we accounted for the irregularity of the movement, or whether we could account for it or not. It is not necessary that a machine be perfect, in order to show with what design it was made: still less necessary, where the only question is whether it were made with any design at all. Ill. Nor, thirdly, would it bring any uncertainty into the argument, if there were a few parts of the watch, concern- ing which we could not discover or had not yet discovered in what manner they conduced to the general effect ; or even some parts, concerning which we could not ascertain whether they conduced to that effect in any manner whatever. For, as to the first branch of the case, if by the loss, or disorder, or decay of the parts in question, the movement of the watch were found in fact to be stopped, or disturbed, or retarded, no doubt would remain in our minds as to the utility or in- tention of these parts, although we should be unable to in- vestigate the manner according to which, or the connection by which, the ultimate effect depended upon their action or assistance; and the more complex the machine, the more likely is this obscurity to arise. Then, as to the second thing supposed, namely, that there were parts which might be spared without prejudice to the movement of the watch, and that we had proved this by experiment, these superfluous i qi is § % 4 eet 7 eles ege toes eer rs Pee ee a a es eer yee re rey ets AE ee te oe Pe ee ee et ae ee ee ee ee a ee Peer et ee)ro eee a ae reseed Pe eer ee ee PEE a oe ee ee ee ee 12 NATURAL THEOLOGY. parts, even if we were completely assured that they were such, would not vacate the reasoning which we had institut- ed concerning other parts. The indication of contrivance remained, with respect to them, nearly as it was before. IV. Nor, fourthly, would any man in his senses think the existence of the watch with its various machinery account- ed for, by being told that it was one out of possible combi- nations of material forms; that whatever he had found in the place where he found the watch, must have contained some internal configuration or other; and that this configu- ration might be the structure now exhibited, namely, of the works of a watch, as well as a diflerent structure. V. Nor, fifthly, would it yield his inquiry more satisfac- tion, to be answered that there existed in things a principle of order, which had disposed the parts of the watch into their present form and situation. He never knew a watch made by the principle of order; nor can he even form to himself an idea of what is meant by a principle of order, distinct from the intelligence of the watchmaker. VI. Sixthly, he would be surprised to hear that the mech- anism of the watch was no proof of contrivance, only a mo- tive to induce the mind to think so: VII. And not less surprised to be informed, that the watch im his hand was nothing more than the result of the laws of metallic nature. It is a perversion of language to assign any law as the efficient, operative cause of any thing. A law presupposes an agent; for it is only the mode accord- ing to which an agent proceeds: it implies a power; for it is the order according to which that power acts. Without this agent, without this power, which are both distinct from itself, the aw does nothing, is nothing. The expression, ‘‘the law of metallic nature,” may sound strange and harsh to a philosophic ear; but it seems quite as justifiable as some others which are more familiar to him, such as “the law of vegetable nature,’ “the law of animal nature,” or, indeed, as ‘“‘ the law of nature” in general, when assignedTHE ARGUMENT STATED. 15 as the cause of phenomena, in exclusion of agency and power, or when it is substituted into the place of these. VIII. Neither, lastly, would our observer be driven out of his conclusion or from his confidence in its truth, by being told that he knew nothing at all about the matter. He knows enough for his argument ; he knows the utility of the end ; he knows the subserviency and adaptation of the means to the end. These points being known, his ignorance of other points, his doubts concerning other points, affect not the certainty of his reasoning. The consciousness of know- ing little need not beget a distrust of that which he does know. pee eeRSREES Sel egted see ege lees i ee ee ee ee ae ee ee et ee oe Pa ee ey i a pi Hi ‘ toed : had is ** * H - * 4 § A 4 5 . , aT “ Ps s ’ A 4 f cast ty ‘i 4 . ; 4 a > ee eek asee ed er es Sete NATURAL THEOLOGY. CHAPTER “Eh. STATE OF THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED. Suppose, in the next place, that the person who found the watch should after some time discover, that in addition to all the properties which he had hitherto observed in it, it possessed the unexpected property of producing im the course of its movement another watch like itself{—the thing is con- ceivable ; that it contained within it a mechanism, a system of parts—a mould, for instance, or a complex adjustment of lathes, files, and other tools—evidently and separately cal- culated for this purpose; let us inquire what effect ought such a discovery to have upon his former conclusion. I. The first. effect would be to increase his admiration of the contrivance, and his conviction of the consummate skill of the contriver. Whether he regarded the object of the contrivance, the distinct apparatus, the intricate, yet in many parts intelligible-emechanism by which it was carried on, he would perceive in this new observation nothing but an additional reason for domg what he had already done— for referring the construction of the watch to design and to supreme art. If that construction ewz/hout this property, or which is the same thing, before this property had been no- ticed, proved intention and art to have been employed about it, still more strong would the proof appear when he came to the knowledge of this further property, the crown and perfection of all the rest. II. He would reflect, that though the watch before him were 22 some sense the maker of the watch which was fab- ricated in the course of its movements, yet it was in a very different sense from that in which a carpenter, for instance, is the maker of a chair—the author of its contrivance, the cause of the relation of its parts to their use. With respect to these, the first watch was no cause at all to the second : im no such sense as this was it the author of the constitutionTHE ARGUMENT STATED. 16 and order, either of the parts which the new watch contain- ed, or of the parts by the aid and instrumentality of which it was produced. We might possibly say, but with great lati- tude of expression, that a stream of water ground corn ; but no latitude of expression would allow us to say, no stretch of conjecture could lead us to think, that the stream of water built the mill, though it were too ancient for us to know who the builder was. What the stream of water does in the affair is neither more nor less than this: by the application of an unintelligent impulse to a mechanism previously arranged, arranged independently of it and arranged by intelligence, an effect is produced, namely, the corn is ground. But the effect results from the arrangement. The force of the stream cannot be said to be the cause or the author of the effect, still less of the arrangement. Understanding and plan in the formation of the mill were not the less necessary for any share which the water has in grinding the corn; yet is this share the same as that which the watch would have contributed to the production of the new watch, upon the supposition assumed in the last section. Therefore, III. Though it be now no longer probable that the indi- vidual watch which our observer had found was made imme- diately by the hand of an artificer, yet doth not this alteration in anywise affect the inference, that an artificer had been originally employed and concerned in the production. The argument from design remains as it was. Marks of design and contrivance are no more accounted for now than they were before. In the same thing, we may ask for the cause of different properties. We may ask for the cause of the color of a body, of its hardness, of its heat ; and these causes may be all diflerent. We are now asking for the cause of that subserviency to a use, that relation to an end, which we have remarked in the watch before us. No answer is given to this question, by telling us that a preceding watch produced it. There cannot be design without a designer ; contrivance, without a contriver ; order, without choice ; ar- Pe erer es st FL ES eee. Pies ee se tes ee eee see ee ea wee ee Ee eae ea ee eee rt oS ee ee oe ee ee ee eer ir ae te ‘ Se ee ee ee Se16 NATURAL THEOLOGY. rangement, without any thing capable of arranging ; subser- viency and relation to a purpose, without that which could intend a purpose ; means suitable to an end, and executing their office in accomplishing that end, without the end ever having been contemplated, or the means accommodated to it. Arrangement, disposition of parts, subserviency of means to an end, relation of instruments to a use, imply the presence \_of intelligence and mind. No one, therefore, can rationally believe that the insensible, inanimate watch, from which the watch before us issued, was the proper cause of the mechan- ism we so much admire in it—could be truly said to have constructed the mstrument, disposed its parts, assigned their office, determined their order, action, and mutual dependen- cy, combined their several motions into one result, and that also a result connected with the utilities of other beings. All these properties, therefore, are as much unaccounted for as they were before. IV. Nor is any thing gained by running the difficulty farther back, that is, by supposing the watch before us to have been produced from another watch, that from a former, and so on indefinitely. Our going back ever so far brings us no nearer to the least degree of satisfaction upon the sub- ject. Contrivance is still unaccounted for. We still want a contriver. A designing mind is neither supplied by this supposition nor dispensed with. If the difficulty were dimin- ished the farther we went back, by going back indefinitely we might exhaust it. And this is the only case to which this sort of reasoning applies. Where there is a tendency, or, as we increase the number of terms, a continual approach towards a limit, there, by supposing the number of terms to be what is called infinite, we may conceive the limit to be attained ; but where there is no such tendency or approach, nothing is effected by lengthening the-series. There is no difference as to the point in question, whatever there may be as to many points, between one series and another—be- tween a series which is finite, and a series which is infiniteTHE ARGUMENT STATED. 17 A chain composed of an infinite number of links can no more support itself than a chain composed of a finite number of links. And of this we are assured, though we never can have tried the experiment; because, by increasing the num- ber of links, from ten, for instance, to a hundred, from a hun- dred to a thousand, etce., we make not the smallest approach, we observe not the smallest tendency towards self support. There is no difference in this respect—yet there may be a great difference in several respects—between a chain of a greater or less length, between one chain and another, be- tween one that is finite and one that is infinite. This very much resembles the case before us. The machine which we are inspecting demonstrates, by its construction, contrivance and design. Contrivance must have had a contriver, de- sign a designer, whether the machine immediately proceed- ed from another machine or not. That circumstance alters not the case. That other machine may, in like manner, have proceeded from a former machine: nor does that alter the case ; the contrivance must have had a contriver. That for- mer one from one preceding it : no alteration still; a contriv- er is still necessary. No tendency is perceived, no approach towards a diminution of this necessity. It is the same with a succession of any and every succession of these machines ten, of a hundred, of a thousand; with one series, as with another—a series which is finite, as with a series which is infinite. In whatever other respects they may differ, in this they do not. In all equally, contrivance and design are unaccounted for. The question is not simply, How came the first watch into existence? which guestion, 1t may be pretended, is done away by supposing the series of watches thus produced from one another to have been infinite, and consequently to have had no such first, for which it was necessary to provide a cause. This, perhaps, would have been nearly the state of the question, if nothing had been before us but an unorgan- ized, unmechanized substance, without mark or indication eer eee Pere ee eee ee ee, ee Poe ee. 2 Pee eee ee SS re ee 2 RSL LHS GER at ae eS ee ee eS eeSPS eoelane nd 18 NATURAL THEOLOGY. of contrivance. It might be difficult to show that such subs stance could not have existed from eternity, either im suc- cession—if it were possible, which I think it is not, for unor- ganized bodies to spring from one another—or by individual perpetuity. But that is not the question now. To suppose it to be so, is to suppose that it made no difference whether he had found a watch or a stone. As it is, the metaphysics of that question have no place ; for, in the watch which we are examining, are seen contrivance, design, an end, a pur- pose, means for the end, adaptation to the purpose. And the question which irresistibly presses upon our thoughts is, Whence this contrivance and design? The thing required is the intending mind, the adapted hand, the intelligence by which that hand was directed. This question, this demand, is not shaken off by increasing a number or succession of substances destitute of these properties; nor the more, by increasing that number to infinity. Ifit be said, that upon the supposition of one watch being produced from another in the course of that other’s movements, and by means of the mechanism within it, we have a cause for the watch in my hand, namely, the watch from which it proceeded—t deny, that for the design, the contrivance, the suitableness of means to an end, the adaptation of instruments to a use, all of which we discover in the watch, we have any cause what- ever. It isin vain, therefore, to assign a series of such causes, or to allege that a series may be carried back to infinity ; for I do not admit that we have yet any cause at all for the phenomena, still less any series of causes either finite or infi- nite. Here is contrivance, but no contriver ; proofs of design, but no designer. VY. Our observer would further also reflect, that the mak- er of the watch before him was, in truth and reality, the maker of every watch produced from it: there being no Gut ference, except that the latter manifests a more exquisite skill, between the making of another watch with his own hands, by the mediation of files, lathes, chisels, ete., and theTHE ARGUMENT STATED. 19 disposing, fixing, and inserting of these instruments, or of others equivalent to them, in the body of the watch already made, in such a manner as to form a new watch in the course of the movements which he had given to the old one. It is only working by one set of tools instead of another. The conclusion which the first examination of the watch, of its works, construction, and movement, suggested, was, that it must have had, for cause and author of that construc- tion, an artificer who understood its mechanism and designed its use. This conclusion is invincible. A second examina- tion presents us with a new discovery. The watch is found, in the course of its movement, to produce another watch similar to itself; and not only so, but we perceive in it a system or organization separately calculated for that pur- pose. What eflect would this discovery have, or ought it to have, upon our former inference? What, as hath already been said, but to increase beyond measure our admiration of the skill which had been employed in the formation of such a machine? Or shall it, imstead of this, all at once turn us round to an opposite conclusion, namely, that no art or skill whatever has been concerned in the business, al- thouch all other evidences of art and skill remain as they were, and this last and supreme piece of art be now added to the rest? Can this be maintaimed without absurdity ” Yet this is atheism. Se seheee +g lvgerd sapegelees 7 AS SF USI SRS VS PASTS RSS FO PRERERA TEES Ra Oe Fee ee kk od a ee ee ee oe ee | Teter et ee ee NSNATURAL THEOLOGY. a | CHAPTER III. APPRICATION OF TERE ARGUALENT.. Tus is atheism; for every indication of contrivance, | every manifestation of ‘design which existed in the watch, exists in the works of nature, with the difference on the side of nature of being greater and more, and that in a de- oD tae “gree which exceeds all computation. I mean, that the con- trivances of nature surpass the contrivances of art, in the complexity, subtilty, and curiosity of the mechanism; and still more, if possible, do they go beyond them in number and variety; yet, in a multitude of cases, are not less evi- dently mechanical, not less evidently contrivances, not less evidently accommodated to their end or suited to their oftice, \_than are the most perfect productions of human ingenuity. I know no better method of introducing so large a sub- ject, than that of comparing a single thing with a single thing : an eye, for example, with a telescope. As far as the examination of the instrument goes, there is precisely the same proof that the eye was made for vision, as there is that the telescope was made for assisting it. They are made upon the same principles; both being adjusted to the laws by which the transmission and refraction of rays of light are regulated. I speak not of the origin of the laws themselves; but such laws being fixed, the construction in both cases is adapted tothem. Jor instance, these laws require, in order to produce the same effect, that the rays of light, in passing from water into the eye, should be refracted by a more con- vex surface than when it passes out of air intothe eye. Ac- cordingly we find that the eye of a fish, in that part of it called the crystalline lens, is much rounder than the eye of terrestrial animals. What plainer manifestation of desion can oo there be than this difference? What could a mathematical a> instrument maker have done more to show his knowledge of his principle, his application of that knowledge, his suitingTHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. Ww i of his means to his end—I will not say to display the com- pass or excellence of his skill and art, for in these all com- parison is indecorous, but to testify counsel, choice, consider- ation, purpose ? To some it may appear a difference sufficient to destroy all similitude between the eye and the telescope, that the one is a perceiving organ, the other an unperceiving instru- ment. The fact is that they are both instruments. And as to the mechanism, at least as to mechanism being employed, and even as to the kind of it, this circumstance varies not the analogy at all. For observe what the constitution of the eye is. It is necessary, in order to produce distinct vision, that an image or picture of the objeet be formed at the bot- tom of the eye.* Whence this necessity arises, or how the picture is connected with the sensation or contributes to it, it may be difficult, nay, we will confess, if you please, im- possible for us to search out. But the present question is not concerned in the inquiry. It may be true, that in this and in other instances we trace mechanical contrivance a certain way, and that then we come to something which is not me- chanical, or which is inscrutable. But this affects not the certainty of our investigation, as far as we have gone. The difference between an animal and an automatic statue con- sists in this, that in the animal we trace the mechanism to a certain point, and then we are stopped ; either the mech- anism being too subtile for our discernment, or something else * Puatel., Fic. 1. A section of the human eye. Kt is formed of various coats, or membranes, enclosing pellucid humors of different degrees of density, and adapted for collecting the rays of light into a focus upon the nerve situated at the bottom of the eyeball: a, is the aqueous humor, a thin fluid like water; 6, the crystalline lens, of a dense texture; c, the vitreows humor, a very delicate gelatinous sub- stance, named from its resemblance to melted glass. Thus the crys- talline is more dense than the vitreous, and the vitreous more dense than the aqueous humor. They are all perfectly transparent, and together make a compound lens which refracts the rays of light issuing from an object, d, and delineates its figure, e, in the focus upon the retina, inverted. sae boy Sega sS edge taks FFE Soh ess FF ee ee ee re ef ee ee ee ee vet ees Ss ee ee ee eee Pee Se ds ee Prey See ee et ee ee ee se ee22 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ! besides the known laws of mechanism taking place ; where- as, in the automaton, for the comparatively few motions of which it is capable, we trace the mechanism throughout. But, up to the limit, the reasoning is as clear and certain in the one case as in the other. In the example before us it * | is a matter of certainty, because it 1s a matter which expe- rience and observation demonstrate, that the formation of an image at the bottom of the eye is necessary to perfect vision. The image itself can be shown. Whatever affects the dis- tinctness of the image, affects the distinctness of the vision. The formation then of such an image being necessary—no matter how—to the sense of sight and to the exercise of that sense, the apparatus by which it is formed is construct- ed and put together not only with infinitely more art, but upon the selfsame principles of art, as in the telescope or the camera-obscura. The perception arising from the image may be laid out of the question ; for the production of the image, these are instruments of the same kind. The ena is the same; the means are the same. The purpose in both is alike; the contrivance for accomplishing that purpose is in both alike. The lenses of the telescopes and the humors of the eye bear a complete resemblance to one another, 1 ee as their figure, their position, and im their power over the rays of light, namely, in bringing each pencil to a point at the right distance from the lens; namely, in the eye, at the ex- act place where the membrane 1s spread to receive it. How is it possible, under circumstances of such close affinity, and under the operation of equal evidence, to exclude contriv- ance from the one, yet to acknowledge the proof of contriv- ance having been employed, as the plainest and clearest of all propositions, in the other ? The resemblance between the two cases is still more ac- curate, and obtains in more points than we have yet repre- sented, or than we are, on the first view of the subject, aware of. In dioptric telescopes there is an imperfection of this nature. Pencils of light, in passing through glass lenses,THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 20 < are separated into different colors, thereby tinging the object, especially the edges of it, as if it were viewed through a prism. To correct this inconvenience had been long a desid- eratum in the art. At last it came into the mind of a saga- cious optician, to inquire how this matter was managed in the eye, in which there was exactly the same difficulty to contend with as in the telescope. His observation taught him that in the eye the evil was cured by combining lenses composed of different substances, that is, of substances which possessed different refracting powers. Our artist borrowed thence his hint, and produced a correction of: the defect by imitating, in glasses made from different materials, the effects of the different humors through which the rays of light pass before they reach the bottom of the eye. Could this be in the eye without purpose, which suggested to the optician the only effectual means of attaining that purpose ? But further, there are other points, not so much perhaps of strict resemblance between the two, as of superiority of the eye over the telescope, yet of a superiority which, being founded in the laws that regulate both, may furnish topics of fair and just comparison. Two things were wanted to the eye, which were not wanted. at least in the same degree, to the telescope ; and these were the adaptation of the organ, first, to different degrees of light, and secondly, to the vast diversity of distance at which objects are viewed by the na- ked eye, namely, from a few inches to as many miles. These difficulties present not themselves to the maker of the tele- scope. He wants all the light he can get; and he never directs his instrument to objects near at hand. In the eye, both these cases were to be provided for ; and for the purpose of providing for them, a subtile and appropriate mechanism is introduced. I. In order to exclude excess of light when it is exces- sive, and to render objects visible under obscurer degrees of it when no more can be had, the hole or aperture in the eye through which the light enters is so formed as to contract Oo 8 z seeseseserseh peer errr ree eye t es! ee yee ee ee re Te Re en a ee pee eS Se hy Sis TES PS ey ee ee Bt a am > ee eee eee ee re ed ee ee ee ee edeee Te Part 24 NATURAL THEOLOGY. or dilate itself for the purpose of admitting a greater or less number of rays at the same time. The chamber of the eye is a camera-obscura, which, when the light is too small, can enlarge its opening ; when too strong, can again contract it; and that without any other assistance than that of its own exquisite machinery. It is farther also, in the human sub- ject, to be observed, that this hole in the eye which we call the pupil, under all its different dimensions, retains its exact circular shape. This is a structure extremely artificial. Let an artist only try to execute the same; he will find that his threads and strings must be disposed with great considera- tiofi and contrivance, to make a circle which shall continu- ally change its diameter yet preserve its form. This is done in the eye by an application of fibres, that is, of strings sim- ilar, in their position and action, to what an artist would and must employ, if he had the same piece of workmanship to perform. II. The second difficulty which has been stated was the suiting of the same organ to the perception of objects that lie near at hand, within a few inches, we will suppose, of the eye, and of objects which are placed at a considerable distance from it, that, for example, of as many furlongs—I speak in both cases of the distance at which distinct vision can be exercised. Now this, according to the principles of optics, that is, according to the laws by which the transmis- and these laws are fixed—could sion of light is regulated not be done without the organ itself undergoing an alteration, and receiving an adjustment that might correspond with the exigency of the case, that is to say, with the different inclination to one another under which the rays of light reached it. Rays issuing from points placed at a small dis- tance from the eye, and which consequently must enter the eye in a spreading or diverging order, cannot, by the same optical instrument im the same state, be brought to a point, that is, be made to form an image in the same place, with rays proceeding from objects situated at a much greater dis-THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 25 tance, and which rays arrive at the eye in directions nearly, (and physically speaking) parallel. It requires a rounder lens to doit. The point of concourse behind the lens must fall critically upon the retina, or the vision is confused ; yet other things remaining the same, this point, by the immuta- ble properties of light, is carried further back when the rays proceed from a near object than when they are sent from one that is remote. A person who was using an optical instrument would manage this matter by changing, as the occasion required, his lens or his telescope, or by adjusting the distance of his glasses with his hand or his screw; but how is this to be managed in the eye? What the alteration was, or in what part of the eye it took place, or by what means it was eflected—for if the known laws which govern the refraction of light be maintained, some alteration in the state of the organ there must be—had long formed a subject of inquiry and conjecture. The change, though sufficient for the purpose, is so minute as to elude ordinary observation. Some very late discoveries, deduced from a laborious and most accurate inspection of the structure and operation of the organ, seem at leneth to have ascertained the mechanical alteration which the parts of the eye undergo. It is found, that by the action of certain muscles called the straight mus- cles,* and which action is the most advantageous that could be imagined for the purpose—it is found, I say, that when- ever the eye is directed to a near object, three changes are produced in it at the same time, all severally contributing to the adjustment required. The cornea or outermost coat of the eve is rendered more round and prominent, the crystalline lens underneath is pushed forward, and the axis of vision, * Prats I., Fic. 2. There are four straight muscles, a, a, belong to the globe of the eye, each arising from the bottom of the orbit, where they surround c, the optic nerve. They are strong and fleshy, and are inserted by broad thin tendons at the fore part of the globe of the eye into the tunica sclerotica. Their use is to turn the eye in differ- nt directions; hence they are severally named levator oguli, depres- sor oculi, adductor oculi, and abductor oeuli. 9 N Theol- ke nt. SebsgKROPES SESH eSdesaCL EISELE ET SRSESISET Pe ee ee ee pe eee en ee allies Tepe ee aSer ee eee ee ee eee ee Sates toe ee 4 cont et ee ae ad - oe er eer en S a eed ee ee ee - eee ee ee 26 NATURAL THEOLOGY. as the depth of the eye is called, is elongated. These changes in the eye vary its power over the rays of light in such a manner and degree as to produce exactly the eflect which is wanted, namely, the formation of an image wpon the rett- na, whether the rays come to the eye in a state of divergen- sy, Which is the case when the object is near to the eye, or come parallel to one another, which is the case when the object is placed at a distance. Can any thing be more deci- sive of contrivance than this is? The most secret laws of optics must have been known to the author of a structure endowed with such a capacity of change. It is asthough an optician, when he had a nearer object to view, should rectify his instrument by putting in another glass, at the same time drawing out also his tube to a different length. Observe a new-born child first lifting up its eyelids. What does the opening of the curtain discover? The anterior part of two pellucid globes, which, when they come to be examined, are found to be constructed, upon strict optical principles— the selfsame principles upon which we ourselves construct optical instruments. We find them perfect for the purpose of forming an image by refraction ; composed of parts exe- cuting different offices; one part having fulfilled its office upon the pencil of light, delivering it over to the action of another part ; that to a third, and so onward : the progressive action depending for its success upon the nicest and minut- est adjustment of the parts concerned; yet these parts so in fact adjusted as to produce, not by a simple action or effect, but by a combination of actions and effects, the result which is ultimately wanted. And forasmuch as this organ would have to operate under diflerent circumstances, with stron& degrees of light and with weak degrees, upon near objects and upon remote ones, and these differences demanded. ac- cording to the laws by which the transmission of heht is regulated, a corresponding diversity of structure—that the aperture, for example, through which the light passes should be larger or less—the lenses rounder or flatter, or that theirLHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. aL distance from the tablet upon which the picture is delineated should be shortened or lengthened—this, | say, being the case, and the difficulty to which the eye was to be adapted, we find its several parts capable of being occasionally chang- ed, and a most artificial apparatus provided to produce that change. This is far beyond the common regulator of a watch, which requires the touch of a foreign hand to set it; but it is not altogether unlike Harrison’s contrivance for making a watch regulate itself, by inserting within it a ma- chinery which, by the artful use of the different expansion of metals, preserves the equability of the motion under all the various temperatures of heat and cold in which the instru- ment may happen to be placed. The ingenuity of this last contrivance has been justly praised. Shall, therefore, a struc- ture which differs from it chiefly by surpassing it, be account- ed no contrivance at all; or, if it be a contrivance, that it is without a contriver ? But this, though much, is not the whole: by different species of animals, the faculty we are describing is possessed in degrees suited to the different range of vision which their mode of life and of procuring their food requires. Bzrds, for instance, in general, procure their food by means of their beak ; and the distance between the eye and the point of the beak being small, it becomes necessary that they should have the power of seeing very near objects distinctly. On the other hand, from being often elevated much above the ground, living in the air, and moving through it with great velocity, they require for their safety, as well as for assisting them in descrying their prey, a power of seeing at a great distance—a power of which, in birds of rapine, surprising examples are given. The fact accordingly is, that two pe- culiarities are found in the eyes of birds, both tending to fa- cilitate the change upon which the adjustment of the eye to different distances depends. The one isa bony, yet, in most species, a flexible rim or hoop, surrounding the broadest part of the eye, which confining the action of the muscles to that rrr ees a og Lge gi pedbise ee ge Ta¥s ee ee cee See Ste ee ee ee ee ed Sete VAG te ee pee ee Pe ee oe ee eee edo Ter ett28 NATURAL THEOLOGY. part, increases the effect of their lateral pressure upon the orb, by which pressure its axis is elongated for the purpose of looking at -very near objects. The other is an additional muscle called the marsupium, to draw, on occasion, the crystalline lens dack, and to fit the same eye for the viewing of very distant objects. By these means, the eyes of birds can pass from one extreme to another of their scale of adjust- ment, with more ease and readiness than the eyes of other animals. The eyes of fishes also, compared with those of terrestrial animals, exhibit certain distinctions of structure adapted to their state and element. We have already observed upon the figure of the crystalline compensating by its roundness the density of the medium through which their light passes. To which we have to add, that the eyes of fish, in their nat- ural and indolent state, appear to be adjusted to near ob- jects, in this respect differmg from the human eye, as well as those of quadrupéds and birds. The ordinary shape of the fish’s eye being in a much higher degree convex than that of land animals, a corresponding difference attends its muscular conformation, namely, that it is throughout calcu- lated for flattening the eye. The zrzs also in the eyes of fish does not admit of con- traction. This is a great diflerence, of which the probable reason is, that the dimmished light in water is never too strong for the retina. In the eel, which has to work its head through sand and gravel, the roughest and harshest substances, there is placed before the eye, and at some distance from it, a transparent, horny, convex case or covering, which, without obstructing the sight, defends the organ. To such an animal could any thing be more wanted or more useful ? Thus, in comparing the eyes of diflerent kinds of animals, we see in their resemblances and distinctions one general plan laid down, and that plan varied with the varying exi- gencies to which it is to be applied.THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. pA There is one property however, common, I believe, to all eyes, at least to all which have been examined,* namely, that the optic nerve enters the bottom of the eye not in the centre or middle, but a little on one side—not in the point where the axis of the eye meets the retina, but between that point and the nose. The difference which this makes is, that no part of an object is unperceived by both eyes at the same time. In considering vision as achieved by the means of an image formed at the bottom of the eye, we can never reflect without wonder upon the smallness yet correctness of the picture, the subtilty of the touch, the fineness of the lines. A landscape of five or six square leagues is brought into a space of half an inch diameter, yet the multitude of objects which it contains are all preserved, are all discriminated in their magnitudes, positions, figures, colors. The prospect from Hampstead-hill is compressed into the compass of a sixpence, yet circumstantially represented. A stage-coach, travelling at an ordinary speed for half an hour, passes in the eye only over one-twelfth of an inch, yet is this change of place in the image distinctly perceived throughout its whole progress; for it is only by means of that perception that the motion of the coach itself is made sensible to the eye. If any thing can abate our admiration of the small- ness of the visual tablet compared with the extent of vision, it is a reflection which the view of nature leads us every hour to make, namely, that in the hands of the Creator, ereat and little are nothing. Sturmius held that the examination of the eye was a cure for atheism. Besides that conformity to optical prin- ciples which its internal constitution displays, and which alone amounts to a manifestation of intelligence having been exerted in the structure—besides this, which forms, no doubt, the leading character of the organ, there is to be seen, in * The eye of the seal or sea-calf, I understand, is an exception Mem. Acad. Paris, 1710, p. 123. at ES ai Per re ee err eee Te tee eA SSS SSIs hase VSe ses? ge ee oe ee eee ee a areata Tere eee eecece lee. Tie 30 NATURAL THHEOLGEY. every thing belonging to it and about it, an extraordinary degree of care, an anxiety for its preservation, due, if we may so speak, to its value and its tenderness. It is ledged in a strong, deep, bony socket, composed by the junction of seven different bones,* hollowed out at their edges. In some few species, as that of the coatimondi,f the orbit is not bony throughout ; but whenever this is the case, the upper, which is the deficient part, is supplied by a cartilaginous ligament, a substitution which shows the same care. Within this socket it is embedded in fat, of all animal substances the best adapted both to its repose and motion. It is sheltered by the eyebrows—an arch of hair which, like a thatched penthouse, prevents the sweat and moisture of the forehead from running down into it. But it is still better protected by its 7d. Of the super- ficial parts of the animal frame, I know none which, in its office and structure, is more deserving of attention than the eyelid. It defends the eye ; it wipes it ; it closes it in sleep. Are there in any work of art whatever, purposes more evi- dent than those which this organ fulfils; or an apparatus for executing those purposes more intelligible, more appro- priate, or more mechanical? If it be overlooked by the ob- server of nature, it can only be because it is obvious and familiar. This is a tendency to be guarded against. We pass by the plainest instances, while we are exploring those which are rare and curious ; by which conduct of the under- standing we sometimes neglect the strongest observations, being taken up with others which, though more recondite and scientific, are, as solid arguments, entitled to much less consideration. In order to keep the eye moist and clean—which qualli- ties are necessary to its brightness and its use—a wash is constantly supplied by a secretion for the purpose; and the superfluous brine is conveyed to the nose through a, perfora- * Heister, sect. 89. a t Memoirs of the Royal Academy, Paris, p. 117.THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. tion in the bone as large as a goose-quill.* When once the fluid has entered the nose, it spreads itself upon the inside of the nostril, and is evaporated by the current of warm air which in the course of respiration is continually passing over it. Can any pipe or outlet for carrying off the waste liquor from a dye-house or a distillery, be more mechanical than thisis? It is easily alt a the eye must want moist- ure ; but could the want of the eye generate the gland which produces the tear, or bore the hole by which it is discharg- ed—a hole through a bone? It is observable that this provision is not found in fish— the element in which they live supplying a constant lotion to the eye. It were, however, injustice to dismiss the. eye as a piece of mechanism, without noticing that most exquisite of all contrivances, the nzctztating mu cae which is found in the eyes of birds and of many quadrupeds. Its use is to sweep the eye, which it does in an instant—to spread over it the lachrymal humor—to defend it also from sudden inju- ries; yet not totally, when ue upon the pupil, to shut out the light. The commodiousness with which it lies fold- ed up in the inner corner of the eye, ready for use and ac- tion, and the quickness with which it executes its purpose, are properties known and obvious to every observer; but © PLATE |: hie. 3) a. 18 ti lachrymal sland, which supplies this fluid ; if is sit t ated at the outer and upp r part of the orb it ot the eye, and secretes or separates tears from the blood. ieee are five 01 six ducts or tubes, 6, which convey this fluid to the globe of the eye, for the purpose of keeping it moist and facilitating its movements : 1 the motion of the eyelid diffuses the tears, and ¢, c, the puncta lachry- malia, take up the superfluous moisture, which passes through d, the _ sac - duct, into the nostril at e. t Prats I., Fig. 4.. The nictitating membrane, or third eyelid, is a Ae semitransparent fold of the conjunctive, which in a state of rest lies in the inner corner of the eye, with its loose edge nearly ver- tical. but can be drawn out so as to cover the whole front of the eye- ball. By means of this membrane, according to Cuvier, the eagle is enabled to look at the sun. se poa Feet eter rs Pee ee ee Pre eee ee eee te ee ee ee ee ary eee es ee ee ee oe SF ee act acta alt le dala Seer er ss tee eypeeeyee a. sF2e eee fs ee 32 NATURAL THEOLOGY. what is equally admirable, though not quite so obvious, is the combination of two kinds of substance, muscular and elastic, and of two different kinds of action, by which the motion of this membrane is performed. It is not, as in ordi- nary cases, by the action of two antagonist muscles—the one pulling forward and the other backward—that a reciprocal change is effected, but it is thus: the membrane itself is an elastic substance, capable of being drawn out by force like a piece of elastic gum, and by its own elasticity returning, when the force is removed, to its former position. Such be- ing its nature, in order to fit it up for its office, it is connect- ed, by a tendon or thread, with a muscle in the back part of the eye: this tendon or thread, though strong, is so fine as not to obstruct the sight even when it passes across it; and the muscle itself being placed in the back part of the eye, derives from its situation the advantage not only of being secure, but of being out of the way, which it would hardly have been in any position that could be assigned to it in the anterior part of the orb, where its function lies. When the muscle behind the eye contracts, the membrane by means of the communicating thread is instantly drawn over the fore part of it. When the muscular contraction—which is a positive and most probably a voluntary effort—ceases to be exerted, the ‘elasticity alone of the membrane brings it back again to its position.* Does not this, if any thing can do it, bespeak an artist, master of his work, acquainted with his materials? ‘Of a thousand other things,” say the French academicians, ‘‘ we perceive not the contrivance, because we understand them only by their effects, of which we know not the causes; but we here treat of a machine, all the parts whereof are visible, and which need only be looked upon to discover the reasons of its motion and action.’’+ * Philosophical Transactions, 1796. + Memoirs for a Natural History of Animals, by the Royal Aead- emy of Sciences at Paris, done into English by order of the Royal So- ciety, 1701, p. 249.THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 33 In the configuration of the muscle which, though placed behind the eye, draws the nictitating membrane over the eye, there is what the authors just now quoted deservedly call a marvellous mechanism. I suppose this structure to be found in other animals ; but in the memoirs from which this account is taken, it is anatomically demonstrated only in the cassowary. The muscle is passed through a loop formed by another muscle, and is there inflected as if it were round a pulley. This is a peculiarity—and observe the advantage of it. A single muscle with a straight ten- don, which is the common muscular “form, would have been sufficient, if it had had power to draw far enough. But the contraction necessary to draw the membrane over the whole eye, required a longer muscle than could lie straight at the bottom of the eye. Therefore, in order to have a greater leneth in a less compass, the chord of the main muscle makes an angle. This so far answers the end; but still fur- ther, it makes an angle, not round a fixed pivot, but round a loop formed by another muscle, which second muscle, whenever it contracts, of course twitches the first muscle at the point of inflection, and thereby assists the action designed by both. One question may possibly have dwelt in the reader’s mind during the perusal of these observations, namely, Why should not the Deity have given to the animal the faculty of vision at once? Why this circuitous perception ; the munis- try of so many means; an element provided for the purpose ; reflected from opaque substances, refracted through trans- parent ones, and both according to precise laws; then a complex organ, an intricate and artificial apparatus, in or- der, by the operation of this element and in conformity with the restrictions of these laws, to produce an image upon a membrane communicating with the brain? Wherefore all this? Why make the difficulty in order to surmount it tt to perceive objects by some other mode than that of touch, or objects which lay out of the reach of that sense, were the Ox ~ thee Ree eee RES, eye 34254 BESTS STEAL SS FS owe ee woe ee meee ee ee ee Le ee eS ee ed ee tee et De ee Se Poe Cea eee rere ee a ee ee he | Te eT ee ee et eeEee eee ee FHSSEPFIS SEL cece ee eee es ee Be ca i a eee ee eo eet ee 34 NATURAL THEODOGY. thine proposed, could not a simple volition of the Creator co : : : g \ have communicated the capacity? Why resort to contriv- ance where power is omnipotent? Contrivance, by its very \_definition and nature, is the refuge of imperfection. To have recourse to expedients implies difficulty, impediment, restraint, defect of power. This question belongs to the other senses as well as to sight; to the general functions of ani- mal life, as nutrition, secretion, respiration ; to the economy of vegetables—and indeed to almost all the operations of nature. The question, therefore, is of very wide extent ; and among other answers which may be given to it, besides reasons of which probably we are ignorant, one answer is this: It is only by the display of-contrivance that the ex- istence, the agency, the wisdom of the Deity could be testi- fied to his rational creatures. This is the scale by which we ascend to.all the knowledge of our Creator which we possess, so far as it depends upon the phenomena or the works of nature. ‘Take away this, and you take away from us every subject of observation and ground of reasoning ; I mean, as our rational faculties are formed at present. Whatever ig done, God could have done without the intervention of in- struments or means; but it is in the construction of instru- ments, in the choice and adaptation of means, that a crea- tive intelligence is seen. It is this which constitutes the order and beauty of the universe. God, therefore, has been pleased to prescribe limits to his own power, and to work-his ends within those limits. The general laws of matter have perhaps prescribed the nature of these limits ; its inertia: its reaction ; the laws which govern the communication of mo- tion, the refraction and reflection of licht, and the constitu. tion of fluids non-elastic and elastic, the transmission of sound through the latter; the laws of magnetism, of electri- city, and probably others yet undiscovered. These are gen- eral laws ; and when a particular purpose is to be effected, it is not by making a new law, nor by the suspension of the old ones, nor by making them wind and bend, and yield toTHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 30 the occasion—for nature with great steadiness adheres to and supports them—but it is, as we have seen in the eye, by the interposition of an apparatus corresponding with these laws, and -suited to the exigency which results from them, that the purpose is at length attained. As we have said, therefore, God prescribes limits to his power, that he may let in the exercise.and thereby exhibit demonstrations of his wisdom. For then—that is, such laws and limitations being laid down— it is as thouch one Being should have fixed cer- tain rules, and, if we may so speak, provided certain mate- rials, and afterwards have committed to another Being, out of these materials, and in subordination to these rules, the task of drawing forth a creation: a supposition which evidently leaves room and induces indeed a necessity for con- trivance. Nay, there may be many such agents, and many ranks of these. We do not advance this as a doctrine either of philosophy or of religion ; but we say that the subject may safely be represented under this view, because the Deity, acting himself by general laws, will have the same conse- quences upon our reasoning as if he had prescribed these laws to another. It has been said, that the problem of crea- tion was, ‘attraction and matter being given, to make a world out of them ;” and, as above explained, this statement perhaps does not convey a false idea. We have made choice of the eye as an instance upon which to rest the argument of this chapter. Some single example was to be proposed, and the eye offered itself un- der the advantage of admitting of a strict comparison with optical instruments. The ear, it is probable, is no less arti- ficially and mechanically adapted to its office than the eye. But we know less about it; we do not so well understand the action, the use, or the mutual dependency of its internal parts. Its general form however, both external and inter- nal, is sufficient to show that it is an instrument adapted to the reception of sound; that is to say, already knowing that sound consists in pulses of the air, we perceive in the wrerrr yr crore rte. rir se ee ee ee F ez 3 ae res eee et tne y et eee ee ee ee a i Re ee ek eed aarti . Ce ei Sere) eee36 NATURAL THEOLOGY. structure of the ear a suitableness to receive impressions from this species of action, and to propagate these impressions to the brain. For of what does this structure consist? An ex- ternal ear, the concha,* calculated, ike an ear-trumpet, to catch and collect the pulses of which we have spoken ; in large quadrupeds turning to the sound, and possessing a con- figuration as well as motion evidently fitted for the office : of a tube which leads into the head, lying at the root of this outward ear, the folds and sinuses thereof tending and con- * PratE I., Fic. 5. a, the tube leading from the external ear; hav- ing little glands to secrete the wax, and hairs standing across it to exclude insects without impeding the vibrations of the atmosphere ; b, the membrane of the tympanum, drawn into the form of a funnel by the attachment of the malleus ; c, the chain of four bones lying in the irregular cavity of the tympanum, and communicating the vibrations of the membrane 6 to the fluid in the labyrinth; d, the eustachian tube, which forms a communication between the throat and the tym- panum, so as to preserve an equilibrium of the air in the cavity of the tympanum and of the atmosphere; e, f, g, the labyrinth—consisting of a central cavity, the vestibule g, the three semicircular canals e, and the cochlea //. Beginning from the left hand, (see also Fig. 6,) we have the mal- Jews or hammér, the first of the chain of bones; we see its long han- dle or process, which is attached to the membrane of the tympanum, and moves as that vibrates; its other end is enlarged, and has a groove upon it which is articulated with the next bone. This second bone is the imcus or anvil, to the grooved surface of which the malleus is at- tached. A long process extends from this bone, which has upon it the os orbiculare ; to this third bone there is attached a fourth, the stapes, which is in shape like a stirrup-iron. The base of this bone is of an oval shape, and rests upon a membrane which closes the hole leading into the labyrinth. This hole is called the foramen ovale. The plan of the cochlea shows that one of its spiral passages, begin- ning in the vestibule e, winds round the pillar till it meets in a point with another tube. If the eye follows this second spiral tube, it will be found to lead, not into the vestibule, but into the regular cavity of the tympanum. Sounds striking against the membrane of the tympanum, are propagated by means of the four small bones to the water contained in the cavities of the labyrinth; and by means of this water the impression is conveyed to the extremities of the auditory nerve and finally to the brain.THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 37 ducting the air towards it: of a thin membrane like the pelt of a drum stretched across this passage upon a bony rim: of a chain of movable and infinitely curious bones, forming a communication, and the only communication that can be observed, between the membrane last mentioned and the interior channels and recesses of the skull: of cavities similar in shape and form to wind instruments of music, be- ing spiral or portions of circles: of the eustachian tube, like the hole in a drum, to let the air pass freely into and out of the barrel of the ear, as the covering membrane vibrates, or as the temperature may be altered: the whole labyrinth hewn out of a rock; that is, wrought into the substance of the hardest bone of the body. This assemblage of connected parts constitutes together an apparatus plainly enough rela- tive to the transmission of sound, or of the impulses received from sound, and only to-be lamented in not being better understood. The communication within, formed by the small bones of the ear, is, to look upon, more hke what we are accus- tomed to call machinery, than any thing I am acquainted with in animal bodies. It seems evidently designed to con- tinue towards the sensorium the tremulous motions which are excited in the membrane of the tympanum, or what is better known by the name of the ‘drum of the ear.” The compages of bones consists of four, which are so disposed, and so hinge upon one another, as that if the membrane, the drum of the ear, vibrate, all the four are put in motion to- gether ; and, by the result of their action, work the base of that which is the last in the series upon an aperture which it closes, and upon which it plays, and which aperture opens into the tortuous canals that lead to the brain. ‘This last bone of the four is called the stapes. The office of the drum of the ear is to spread out an extended surface capable of receiving the impressions of sound, and of beimg put by them into a state of vibration. The office of the stapes 1s to re- peat these vibrations. It is a repeating fngate, stationed g- SERS sees ae eee yee ee raw es ee Ee aa ae kee eee eG ae eT ee eee eee eh ee re ee ee ee ae DS SUS oS ee ee ee eo eeiatarieste te ee Poe ee Y 38 NATURAL THEOLOGY. more within the line. From which account of its action may be understood how the sensation of sound will be excit- ed by any-thing which communicates a vibratory motion to the stapes, though not, as in all ordinary cases, through the intervention of the membrana tympani. This is done by solid bodies applied to the bones of the skull, as by a metal bar holden at one end between the teeth, and touching at the other end a tremulous body. It likewise appears to be done, in a considerable degree, by the air itself, even when this membrane, the drum of ‘thse ear, 1s greatly damaged. Hither in the natural or preternatural state of the organ, the use of the chain of bones is to propagate the impulse in a direction towards the brain, and to propagate it with the advantage ofa lever; which oie consists 1m increas- ing the force and strength of the vibration, and at the same time diminishing the space through which it oscillates ; both of which changes may augment or facilitate the still deeper action of the auditory nerves. The benefit of the eustachian tube to the organ may be made out upon pneumatic principles. Behind the drum of the ear is a second cavity, or barrel, called the tympanum. The eustachian tube is a slender pipe, but sufficient for the passage of air, leading from this cavity into the back part of the mouth. Now, it would not have done to have had a vacuum in this cavity ; for in that case the pressure of the atmosphere from without would have burst the membrane which covered it. Nor would it have done to have filled the cavity with lymph, or any other secretion, which would necessarily have obstructed both the vibration of the mem- brane and the play of the small bones. Nor, lastly, would it have done to have occupied the space with confined air because the expansion of that air by heat, or its initiation by cold, would have distended or relaxed the covering mem- brane in a degree inconsistent with the purpose which it was designed to execute. The only remaining expedient, and that for which the eustachian tube serves, is to openTHE ARGUMENT APPHIED. oo to this cavity a communication with the external air. In one word, it exactly answers the purpose of the hole in a drum. The membrana tympani itself, likewise, deserves all the examination which can be made of it. It is not found in the ears of fish ; which furnishes an additional proof of what indeed is indicated by every thing about it, that it 1s appro- priated to the action of air, or of an elastic medium. It bears an obvious resemblance to the pelt or head of a drum, from which it takes its name. It resembles also a drum- head in this principal property, that its use depends upon its tension. “‘J'enszon is the state essential to it. Now we know that, in a drum, the pelt is carried.over a hoop, and braced as occasion requires, by the means of strings attached to its circumference. In the membrane of the ear the same pur- pose is provided for more simply, but not less mechanically nor less successfully, by a different expedient, namely, by the end of a bone—the handle of the malleus—pressing upon its centre. It is only in very large animals that the texture of this membrane can be discerned. In the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1800, vol. 1, Mr. Everard Home has given some curious observations upon the ear, and the drum of the ear of an elephant. He discovered in it what he calls a radiated muscle—that is, straight muscular fibres passing along the membrane from the circumference to the centre—from the bony rim which surrounds it towards the handle of the malleus, to which the central part is attached. This muscle he supposes to be designed to bring the mem- brane into unison with different sounds ; but then he also dis- covered that this muscle itself cannot act, unless the mem- brane be drawn to a stretch, and kept in a due state of tight- ness by what may be called a foreign force, namely, the action of the muscles of the malleus. Supposing his expla- nation of the use of the parts to be just, our author is well founded in the reflection which he makes upon it, “ that 1 this mogle of adapting the ear to diflerent sounds, 1s one of a ere z re Pog eee ee etek ees Peper error rere tee Pit et ote ek eS eet ye es rae ee cE eae at a ee ee RS etSesHercsdasaduds SS a ee ee ee aaa e See eeSd ee ee ae 40 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the most beautiful applications of muscles in the body ; the mechanism is so simple, and the variety of effects so great.” In another volume of the Transactions above referred to, and of the same year, two most curious cases are related of persons who retained the sense of hearing, not in a perfect but in a very considerable degree, notwithstanding the al- most total loss of the membrane we have been describing. In one of these cases, the use here assigned to that mem- brane, of modifying the impressions of sound by change of tension, was attempted to be supplied by straining the mus- cles of the outward ear. ‘The external ear,” we are told, ‘“‘had acquired a distinct motion upward and backward, which was observable whenever the patient listened to any thing which-he did not distinctly hear: when he was ad- dressed in a whisper, the ear was seen immediately to move ; when the tone of voice was louder, it then remained altogether motionless.” It appears probable, from both these cases, that a collat- eral if not principal use of the membrane is to cover and protect the barrel of the ear which lies behind it. Both the patients suflered from cold: one, ‘a great increase of deaf. ness from catching cold ;” the other, “ very considerable pain from exposure to a stream of cold air.’ Bad effects there- fore followed from this cavity being left open to the external air; yet, had the Author of nature shut it up by any other cover than what was capable, by its texture, of receiving vibrations from sound, and by its connection with the inte: rior parts, of transmitting those vibrations to the brain. the use of the organ, so far as we can judge, must have been entirely obstructed.THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. CHAPBTEE. DY. ON THE SUCCESSION OF BLANTES AND ANE MALS. THE generation of the animal no more accounts for the contrivance of the eye or ear, than, upon the supposition stated in a preceding chapter, the production of a watch by the motion and mechanism of a former watch, would ac- count for the skill and attention evidenced in the watch so produced—than it would account for the disposition. of the wheels, the catchine of their teeth, the relation of the sev- eral parts of the works to one another, and to their common end—tor the suitableness of their forms and places to their offices, for their connection, their operation, and the useful result of that operation. I do insist most strenuously upon the correctness of this comparison ; that it holds as to every mode of specific propagation ; and that whatever was true of the watch, under the hypothesis above-mentioned, is true of plants and animals. [. To begin with the fructification of plants. Can it be doubted but that the seed contains a particular organization ? Whether a latent plantule with the means of temporary nu- trition, or whatever else it be, it encloses an organization suited to the germination of a new plant. Has the plant which produced the seed any thing more to do with that organization, than the watch would have had to do with the structure of the watch which was produced in the course of its mechanical movement? I mean, Has it any thing at all to do with the contrivance? The maker and contriver of one watch, when he inserted within it a mechanism suit- ed to the production of another watch, was, in truth, the maker and contriver of that other watch. All the proper- ties of the new watch were to be referred to his agency : the desion manifested in it, to his intention; the art, to him as the artist ; the collocation of each part, to his placing ; the ere ees ss ae eer. ees ee ee ee eee seer et gS ee a 3 a ee es a ee eo ee re eee re ee er ee ee ee re ee $ELSEPSEAHSRABRE EDTAee ee 42 NALUR AL TEP OLOGY . action, eflect, and use, to his counsel, intelligence, and work- manship. In producing it by the intervention of a former watch, he was only working by one set of tools instead of another. So it is with the plant, and the seed produced by it. Can any distinction be assigned between the two cases ; between the producing watch and the producing plant; both passive unconscious substances—both, by the organization which was given to them, producing their like without un- derstanding or desigzn—both, that is, instruments ? II. From plants we may proceed to oviparous animals— from seeds to eggs. Now I say, that the bird has the same concern in the formation of the egg which she lays, as the plant has in that of the seed which it drops; and no other nor greater. The internal constitution of the eee is as much a secret to the hen as if the hen were inanimate. Her will cannot altér it, or change a single feather of the chick. She can neither foresee nor determine of which sex her brood shall be, or how many of either; yet the thing produced shall be, from the first, very different in its make, according to the sex which it bears. So far, therefore, from adapting the means, she is not beforehand apprized of the effect. If there be concealed within that smooth shell a provision and a preparation for the production and nourishment of a new animal, they are not of her providing or preparing ; if there be contrivance, it is none of hers. Although, therefore, there be the difference of life and perceptivity between the animal and the plant, it is a difference which enters not into the account: it is a foreign circumstance; it is a difference of properties not employed. The animal function and the veg- etable function are alike destitute of any design which can operate upon the form of the thing produced. The plant has no design in producing the seed—no comprehension of the nature or use of what it produces : the bird, with respect to its egg, is not above the plant with respect to its seed. Neither the one nor the other bears that sort of relation to what proceeds from them which a joimer does to the chairat re e >? - oebbse PeGe TEES TE ESSE SS s TST THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 43 which he makes. Now a cause which bears ths relation to the eflect, is what we want, in order to account for the suitableness of means to an end—the fitness and fitting of one thing to another; and this cause the parent plant or animal does not supply. It is further observable concerning the propagation of plants and animals, that the apparatus employed exhibits no resemblance to the thing produced ; in this respect, hold- ing an analogy with instruments and tools of art. The ee eee Pe Se ee od filaments, anther, and stigmata of flowers, bear no more resemblance to the young plant, or even to the seed which is formed by their mtervention, than a chisel or a plane does to atable orachair. What then are the filaments, anthere, and stigmata of plants, but instruments, strictly so called ? Ill. We may advance from animals which bring forth eggs, to animals which bring forth their young alive; and it Pet ee se ee eee eo ee of this latter class, from the lowest to the highest—from irrational to rational life, from brutes to the human species, without perceiving, as we proceed, any alteration whatever in the terms of the comparison. The rational animal does not produce its offspring with more certainty or success than the irrational animal; a man than a quadruped, a quadru- ped than a bird; nor—for we may follow the gradation through its whole scale—a bird than a plant; nor a plant than a watch, a piece of dead mechanism, would do, upon ge ee ere ee er ee ee the supposition which has already so often been repeated. Rationality, therefore, has nothing to do in the business. If ee ee eee or ee an account must be given of the contrivance which we ob- serve ; if it be demanded, whence arose either the contriv- ance by which the young animal is produced, or the con- trivance manifested in the young animal itself, it is not from the reason of the parent that any such account can be drawn. He is the cause of his offspring, in the same sense as that in which a gardener is the cause of the tulip which grows upon his parterre, and in no other. We admire the flower; we yer eee sy eee et ee re examine the plant ; we perceive the conduciveness of manyed eee ee ee ee eee 44. NATURAL THEOLOGY. of its parts to their end and office; we observe a provision for its nourishment, growth, protection, and fecundity ; but we never think of the gardener in all this. We attribute nothing of this to his agency; yet it may still be true, that without the gardener we should not have had the tulip. Just so it 1s with the succession of animals, even of the highest order. For the contrivance discovered in the struct- ure of the thig produced, we want a contriver. The par- ent is not that contriver ; his consciousness decides that ques- tion. He is in total ignorance why that which is produced took its present form rather than any other. It is for him only to be astonished by the eflect. We can no more look, therefore, to the intelligence of the parent animal for what We are in search of a cause of relation and of subserviency of parts to their use, which relation and subserviency we see in the procreated body—than we can refer the internal con- formation of an acorn to the intelligence of the oak from which it dropped, or the structure of the watch to the intel- higence of the watch which produced it; there being no difference, as far as argument is concerned, between an in- telligence which is not exerted, and an intelligence which does not exist.THE ARGUMENT*APPLIED. GH AP FE RV. APPLICATION OF THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED. Every observation which was made in our first chapter concerning the watch, may be repeated with strict propriety concerning the eye ; concerning animals ; concerning plants ; concerning, indeed, all the organized parts of the works of nature. As, I. When we are inquiring simply after the existence of | an intelligent Creator, imperfection, inaccuracy, liability to disorder, occasional irregularities, may subsist m a consider- able degree without inducing any doubt into the question ; just as a watch may frequently go wrong, seldom perhaps exactly right, may be faulty in some parts, defective in some, without the smallest ground of suspicion from thence arising that it was not a watch, not made, or not made for the pur- pose ascribed to it. When faults are pointed out, and when_ a question is started concerning the skill of the artist, or the dexterity with which the work is executed, then, indeed, in order to defend these qualities from accusation, we must be able, either to expose some intractableness and imperfection in the materials, or point out some invincible difficulty in the execution, into which imperfection and difhculty the matter of complaint may be resolved; or, if we cannot do this, we must adduce such specimens of consummate art and contrivance proceeding from the same hand as may convince the inquirer of the existence, in the case before him, of 1m- pediments like those which we have mentioned, although, what from the nature of the case is very likely to happen, they be unknown and unperceived by him. This we must do in order to vindicate the artist’s skill, or at least the per- fection of it; as we must also judge of his intention, and of the provisions employed in fulfilling that intention, not from an instance in which they fail, but from the great plurality of instances in which they succeed. But, after all, these See cose se FSe3% Pepe ee ee ee Pt re ra ne ae tae ee ee eee Ee a ao Teter eee erei 46 NATURE THEOLOG Ys are different questions from the question of the artist’s exist- ence ; or, which is the same, whether the thing before us be “a work of art or not; and the questions ought always to be kept separate in the mind. So likewise it is in the works of nature. Irregularities and imperfections are of little or no weight in the consideration, when that consideration re- lates simply to the existence of a Creator. When the argu- ment respects his attributes, they are of weight; but are then to be taken in conjunction—the attention is not to rest upon them, but they are to be taken in conjunction, with the unexceptionable evidences which we possess of skill, power, and benevolence displayed in other instances; which evidences may, in strength, number, and variety, be such, and may.so overpower apparent blemishes, as to induce us, upon the most reasonable ground, to believe that these last ought to be referred to some cause, though we be ignorant of it, other than defect of knowledge or of benevolence in \ the author. II. There may be also parts of plants and animals, as there were supposed to be of the watch, of which, in some instances the operation, in others the use, 1s unknown. These form different cases; for the operation may be un- known, yet the use be certain. Thus it is with the lungs of animals. It does not, I think, appear that we are ac- quainted with: the action of the air upon the blood, or in what manner that action is communicated by the lungs ; yet we find that a very short suspension of their office de- stroys the life of the animal. In this case, therefore. we may be said to know the use, nay, we experience the neces- sity of the organ, though we be ignorant of its operation, Nearly the same thing may be observed of what is called the lymphatic system. We suffer grievous inconveniences from its disorder, without being informed cf the office which it sustains in the economy of our bodies. There may possi- bly also be some few examples of the second class, in which not only the operation is unknown, but in which »xperi-LHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 47 ments may seem to prove that the part is not necessary ; or may leave a doubt how far it is even useful to the plant o1 animal in which it is found. This is said to be the case with the spleen, which has been extracted from dogs with- out any sensible injury to their vital functions. Instances of the former kind, namely, in which we cannot explain the operation, may be numerous; for they will be so in-propor- tion to our ignorance. They will be more or fewer to differ- ent persons, and in different stages of science. Every im- provement of knowledge diminishes their number. There is hardly, perhaps, a year passes that does not, in the works of nature, bring some operation, or some mode of operation, to light, which was before undiscovered—probably unsus- pected. Instances of the second kind, namely, where the part appears to be totally useless, I believe to be extremely rare ; compared with the number of those of which the use is evident, they are beneath any assignable proportion, and perhaps have been never submitted to a trial and examina- tion sufficiently accurate, long enough continued, or often enough repeated. No accounts which | have seen are sat- isfactory. The mutilated animal may live and grow fat— as was the case of the dog deprived of its spleen—yet may be defective in some other of its functions, which, whether they can all, or in what degree of vigor and perfection, be performed, or how long preserved without the extirpated organ, does not seem to be ascertained by experiment. But to this case, even were it fully made out, may be applied the consideration which we suggested concerning the watch, namely, that these superfluous parts do not negative the reasoning which we instituted concerning those parts which are useful, and of which we know the use; the indication of contrivance, with respect to them, remains as it was before. III. One atheistic way of replying to our observations upon the works of nature, and to the proofs of a Deity which we think that we perceive in them, is to tell us that all which we see must necessarily have had some form, and Peer tt Te eee eee Ti eS ee ks ee ee ee oe a ae er ee ee ee ee ee ee are ee A SA EAR Bee ee tes ee ee ee ee abee hd a ee et ae ek a ete 48 NATURAL IME ODGGY . that it might as well be its present form as any other. Let us now apply this answer to the eye, as we did before to the watch. Something or other must have occupied that place in the animal’s head—must have filled up, as we say, that socket : we will say, also, that it must have been of that sort of substance which we call animal substance, as flesh, bone, membrane, or cartilage, etc. But that it should have been an eye, knowing as we do what an eye comprehends, name- ly, that it should have consisted, first, of a series of transpar- ent lenses—very different, by the by, even in their substance, from the opaque materials of which the rest of the body is, in general at least, composed, and with which the whole of its-surface, this single portion of it excepted, is covered : secondly, of a black cloth or canvas—the only membrane in the body which is black—spread out behind these lenses, so as to receive the image formed by pencils of light trans- mitted through them ; and placed at the precise geometrical distance ‘at which, and at which alone, a distinct image could be formed, namely, at the concourse of the refracted rays: thirdly, of a large nerve communicating between this membrane and the brain ; without which, the action of heht upon the membrane, however modified by the organ, would be lost to the purposes of sensation : that this fortunate con- formation of parts should have been the lot, not of one individual out of many thousand individuals, like the ereat prize in a lottery, or like some singularity in nature, but the happy chance of a whole species; nor of one species out of many thousand species with which we are acquainted, but of by far the greatest number of all that exist. and that under varieties not casual or capricious, but bearing marks of being suited to their respective exigences: that all this should have taken place, merely because something must have occupied these points on every animal’s forehead : or, that all this*should be thought to be accounted for by the short answer, that “‘ whatever was there must have had some form or other,” is too absurd to be made more so byTHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. 49 any argumentation. We are not contented with this an- swer; we find no satisfaction in it, by way of accounting for appearances of organization far short of those of the eye, such as we observe in fossil shells, petrified bones, or other substances which bear the vestiges of animal or vegetable recrements, but which, either im respect to utility or of the situation in which they are discovered, may seem accidental enough. It is no way of accounting even for these things, to say that the stone, for instance, which is shown to us— supposing the question to be concerning a petrifaction—must have contained some internal conformation or other. Nor does it mend the answer to add, with respect to the singu- larity of the conformation, that after the event, it is no lon- ger to be computed what the chances were against it. This is always to be computed when the question is, whether a useful or imitative conformation be the produce of chance or not: I desire no greater certaimty in reasoning than that by which chance is excluded from the present disposition of the natural world. Universal experience is against it. What does chance ever do for us? In the human body, for in- stance, chance, that is, the operation of causes without de- sign, may produce a wen, a wart, a mole, a pimple, but never an eye. Among inanimate substances, a clod, a peb- ble, a liquid drop might be ; but never was a watch, a tele- scope, an organized body of any kind, answering a valuable purpose by a complicated mechanism, the effect of chance. In no assignable instance has such a thing existed without intention somewhere. ~TV. There is another answer which has the same effect as the resolving of things into chance ; which answer would persuade us to believe that the eye, the animal to which it belongs, every other animal, every plant, indeed every or- ganized body which we see, are only so many out of the possible varieties and combinations of being which the lapse of infinite ages has brought into existence ; that the present world is the relic of that variety; millions of other bodily ra) Nat. Theol, » Co ees ae eT: Pere r? Pee rr ere ee ete. eg ee ee a te ee See Pe Se eee Te Se a ee ee) Pe ed St od Lee oe eee Tete ee eeeCLEUT Te we cee Bae ee eee See - 50 NATURAL THEOLOGY. forms and other species having perished, being, by the de- fect of their constitution, incapable of preservation, or of continuance by generation. Now there is no foundation whatever for this conjecture in any thing which we observe in the works of nature; no such experiments are going on at present—no such energy operates as that which is here supposed, and which should be constantly pushing into ex- istence new varieties of beings. Nor are there any appear- ances to support an opinion, that every possible combination of vegetable or animal structure has formerly been tried. Multitudes of conformations, both of vegetables and animals, may be conceived capable of existence and succession, which yet do not exist. Perhaps almost as many forms of plants might have been found in the fields as figures of plants can be delineated upon paper. A countless variety of animals might have existed which do not exist. Upon the suppo- sition here stated, we should see unicorns and mermaids, sylphs and centaurs, the fancies of painters, and the fables of poets, realized by examples. Or, if it be alleged that these may transgress the bounds of possible life and propa- gation, we might at least have nations of human beings without nails upon their fingers, with more or fewer fingers and toes than ten, some with one eye, others with one ear. with one nostril, or without the sense of smelling at all. All these, and a thousand other imaginable varieties, might live and propagate. We may modify any one species many different ways, all consistent with life, and with the actions necessary to preservation, although aflording different de- grees of conveniency and enjoyment to the animal. And if we carry these modifications through the different species which are known to subsist, their number would be ineéal- culable. No reason can be given why, if these deperdits ever existed, they have now disappeared. Yet, if all possi- ble existences have been tried, they must have formed part of the catalogue. But moreover, the division of organized substances intoTHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. ol animals and vegetables, and the distribution and subdistri- bution of each into genera and species, which distribution is not an arbitrary act of the mind, but founded in the order which prevails in external nature, appear to me to contra- dict the supposition of the present world being the remains of an indefinite variety of existences—of a variety which re- jects all plan. The hypothesis teaches, that every possible variety of being hath, at one time or other, found 1ts way into existence—by what cause or in what manner is not said and that those which were badly formed perished; but how or why those which survived should be cast, as we see that plants and animals are cast, into regular classes, the hypothesis does not explain; or rather the hypothesis is in- consistent with this phenomenon. The hypothesis, indeed, is hardly deserving of the con- sideration which we have given to it. What should we think of a man who, because we had never ourselves seen watches, telescopes, stocking-mills, steam-engines, etc., made, knew not how they were made, nor could prove by testimo- ny when they were made, or by whom, would have us be- lieve that these machines, instead of deriving their curious structures from the thought and design of their inventors and contrivers, in truth derive them from no other origin than this; namely, that a mass of metals and other mate- rials having run, when melted, into all possible figures, and combined themselves in all possible forms and shapes and proportions, these things which we see are what were left from the incident, as best worth preserving, and as such are become the remaining stock of a magazine which, at one time or other, has by this means contained every mechan- ism, useful and useless, convenient and inconvenient, into which such like materials could be thrown ? I cannot dis- tincuish the hypothesis, as applied to the works of nature, from this solution, which no one would accept as applied to a collection of machines. V. To the marks of contrivance discoverable in animal Pee eT TE et a CEL ER US Be pS eek $a wd Ga Be Ee eee eee Se ee eae et oe Se ee ae ae ee a ata earl ee ee bes Ter ee et eee ee eT SGO2 NATURAL THEOLOSG Y. bodies, and to the argument deduced from them in_proof of design_and of a-designing Creator, this turn is sometimes attempted to be given, namely, that the parts were not in- tended for the use, but that the use arose out of the parts. This distinction is intelligible. A éabinet-maker rubs his mahogany with fish-skin ; yet it would be too much to assert that the skin of the dog-fish was made rough and granulat- ed on purpose for the polishing of wood, and the use of cab- inet-makers. Therefore the distinction is intelligible. But 1 think that there is very little place for it in the works of nature. When roundly and generally affirmed of them, as it hath sometimes been, it amounts to such another stretch of assertion as it would be to say, that all the implements of the cabinet-maker’s workshop, as well as his fish-skin, were substances accidentally configurated, which he had picked up and converted to his use; that his adzes, saws, planes, and gimlets, were not made, as we suppose, to hew, cut, smooth, shape out, or bore wood with, but that, these things being made, no matter with what design, or whether with any, the cabinet-maker perceived that they were appli- cable to his purpose, and turned them to account. But, again, so far as this solution is attempted to be applied to those parts of animals the action of which does not depend upon the will of the animal, it is fraught with still more evident absurdity. Is it possible to believe that the eye was formed without any regard to vision; that it was the animal itself which found out that, though formed with no such intention, it would serve to see with; and that the use of the eye as an organ of sight resulted from this discovery, and the animal’s application of it? The same question may be asked of the ear; the same of all the senses. None of the senses fundamentally depend upon the election of the animal; consequently neither upon his sagacity nor his experience. It is the impression which objects make upon them that constitutes their use. Under that im pres- sion he is passive. He may bring objects to the sense, orTHE ARGUMENT APPLIED. oo within its reach; he may select these objects ; but over the impression itself he has no power, or very little; and that properly is the sense. Secondly, there are many parts of animal bodies which seem to depend upon the will of the animal in a greater degree than the senses do, and yet with respect to which this solution is equally unsatisfactory. If we apply the so- lution to the human body, for instance, it forms itself into questions upon which no reasonable mind can doubt: such as, whether the teeth were made expressly for the mastica- tion of food, the feet for walking, the hands for holding ; or whether, these things as they are being in fact in the ani- mal’s possession, his own ingenuity taught him that they were convertible to these purposes, though no such purposes were contemplated in their formation. All that there is of the appearance of reason in this way of considering the subject is, that, in some cases, the organ- ization seems to determine the habits of the animal, and its choice to a particular mode of life; which, in a certain sense, may be called ‘“ the use arising out of the part.” Now, to all the instances in which there is any place for this sug- gestion, it may be replicd, ‘that the organization determines the animal to habits ‘beneficial and’ salutary‘to’ itself; and that this effect worild aot be seelL SO regilaily to tullow, if the several organizations did not'’bear a concerted and con- trived relation to the substance by which the animal was surrounded. They would, otherwise, be capacities without objects—powers without employment. The web-foot deter- mines, you say, the duck to swim; but what would that avail if there were no water to swim in? The strong hook- ed bill and sharp talons of one species of bird determine it to prey upon animals; the soft straight bill and weak claws of another species determine it to pick up seeds ; but neither determination could take effect im providing for the suste- nance of the birds, if animal bodies and vegetable seeds did not lie within their reach. The peculiar conformation of ee ee et SE FTE TS Se TELS Pe ee eS Page pare oe dd Se ee eeeee Le ee ee. ee ee ee ey Se o4 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the bill and tongue and claws* of the woodpecker deter- mines that bird to search for his food among the insects lodged behind the bark or in the wood of decayed trees ; but what would this profit him if there were no trees, no de- cayed trees, no insects lodged under their bark or in their trunk? The proboscis with which the bee is furnished de- termines him to, seek for honey; but what would that sig- nify if flowers supplied none? Faculties thrown down upon animals at random, and without reference to the objects amidst which they are placed, would not produce to them the services and benefits which we see; and if there be that reference, then there is intention. Lastly, the solution fails entirely when applied to plants. The parts of plants answer their uses without any concur- rence from the will or choice of the plant. VI. Others have chosen to refer every thing to a prin- cople of order in nature. A principle of order is the word ; but what is meant by a principle of order as different from an intelligent Creator, has not been explained either by defi- nition or example ; and without such explanation, it should seem to be a.mere substitution of, words for reasons, names for catises. « Order itself-is enly:thetadaptation of means to an end? a principl¢ of vrder; theteforé,-can only sienify the . c €. ¢ t . € qe ‘ 4 = a : . mind and axtontion which so: adapts.them. Or, were it ~ capable’ df-bpinigs explained in any other sense, is there any experience, any analogy, to sustain it? Was a watch ever produced by a principle of order; and why might not a watch be so produced as well as an eye? Furthermore, a principle of order, acting blindly and without choice, is negatived by the observation that order is not universal, which it would be if it issued from a constant and necessary principle ; nor indiscriminate, which it would be if it issued from an unintelligent principle. Where order * The claws are strong and hooked; and, as in all climbing birds, have two’ toes placed forwards and two backwards, by which they take a firm hold of the bark of trees. See Plate Veo onie. 3)THE ARGUMENT APPLIED. Oo is wanted, there we find it; where order is not wanted, that is, Where, if it prevailed, it would be useless, there we do not find it. In the structure of the eye—for we adhere to our example—ain the figure and position of its several parts, the most exact order is maintained. In the forms of rocks and mountains, in the lines which bound the coasts of con- tinents and islands, m the shape of bays and promontories, no order whatever is perceived, because it would have been superfluous. No useful purpose would have arisen from moulding rocks and mountains into regular solids, bounding the channel of the ocean by geometrical curves; or from the map of the-world resembling a table of diagrams in Euclid’s Elements or Simpson’s Conic Sections. VII. Lastly, the confidence which we place im our ob- servations upon the works of nature, m the marks which we discover of contrivance, choice, and design, and in our rea- soning upon the proofs afforded us, ought not to be shaken, as it is sometimes attempted to be done, by bringing forward to our view our own ignorance, or rather the general imper- fection of our knowledge of nature. Nor, in many cases, ought this consideration to aflect us, even when it respects some parts of the subject immediately under our notice. True fortitude of understanding consists in not suffermg what we know to be disturbed by what we do not know. If we perceive a useful end, and means adapted to that end, we perceive enough for our conclusion. If these things be clear, no matter what is obscure. The argument is finished. For instance, if the utility of vision to the animal which enjoys it, and the adaptation of the eye to this office, be evi- dent and certain—and I can mention nothing which is more so—ought it to prejudice the inference which we draw from these premises, that we cannot explain the use of the spleen : Nay, more, if there be parts of the eye, namely, the cornea, the crystalline, the retina, in their substance, figure and po- sition, manifestly suited to the formation of an image by the refraction of rays of light, at least as manifestly as the $eseen535 7592 gicgwms sme eo ge Tes F roe eee eee ee eT te eo oe ee ee ee ee eSere cae sa ee Oe Se a ee ai Se ee eee tod ee 225 ee eee nt as ee ee te ee ee ee Ses Eesha. 3 2 ed los ob NATURAL PHEOLOGY. glasses and tubes of a dioptric telescope are suited to that purpose, it concerns not the proof which these afford of de- sign, and of a designer, that there may perhaps be other parts, certain muscles, for instance, or nerves in the same eye, of the agency or effect of which we can give no ac- count, any more than we should be inclined to doubt, or ought to doubt, about the construction of a telescope, name- ly, for what purpose it was constructed, or whether it was constructed at all, because there belonged to it certain screws and pins, the use or action of which we did not comprehend. I take it to be a general way of infusing doubts and scruples into the mind, to reeur to its own ignorance, its Own imbe- eility—to tell us that upon these subjects we know little ; that little imperfectly ; or rather, that we know nothing properly about the matter. These suggestions so fall in with our consciousness as sometimes to produce a general distrust of our faculties and our conclusions. But this is an unfounded jealousy. The uncertainty of one thing does not necessarily affect the certainty of another thing. Our i 1gno- rance of many points need not suspend our assurance of a few. Before we yield, in any particular instanee, to the scepticism which this sort of insinuation would induce, we ought accurately to ascertain whether our ignorance or doubt concern those precise points upon which our conclu- sion rests. Other points are nothing. Our ignorance of other points may be of no consequence to these, though they be points, in various respects, of great importance. A just reasoner removes from his consideration not only what he knows, but what he does not know, touche matters not strictly connected with his argument, that is, not forming the very steps of his deduction : beyond these, his knowle dge and his ignorance are alike relative.= ie er eipee eee ret i f rPeerererr prer ore rete Pi ies ota THE ARGUMENT CUMULATIVE. CRAP TEE Vale THE ARGUMENT CUMULATIVE. Were there no example in the world of contrivance except that of the eye, it would be alone sufficient to sup- port the conclusion which we draw from it, as to the neces- sity of an intelligent Creator. It could never be got rid of, because it could not be accounted for by any other supposi- tion which did not contradict all the principles we possess ee eee es ae ee of knowledge—the principles according to which things do, as often as they can be brought to the test of experience, turn out to be true or false. Its coats and humors, con structed as the lenses of a telescope are constructed, for the refraction of rays of light to a poimt, which forms the prope action of the organ: the provision in its muscular tendons Sr ae arias for turning its pupil to the object, similar to that which is given to the telescope by screws, and upon which power of direction in the eye the exercise of its office as an optical i if instrument depends; the further provision for its defence, for its constant lubricity and moisture, which we see in its socket and its lids, in its glands for the secretion of the mat- ter of tears, its outlet or communication with the nose for carrying off the liquid after the eye is washed with it; these provisions compose altogether an apparatus, a system of ee een et er ea ee ee ee ee ee parts, a preparation of means, so manifest in their design, so exquisite in their contrivance, so successful in their issue, so precious, and so infinitely beneficial in their use, as, in my opinion, to bear down all doubt that can be raised upon the subject. And what I wish, under the title of the pres- ent chapter, to observe, is, that if other parts of nature were imaccessible to our inquiries, or even if other parts of nature presented nothing to our examination but disorder and con- fusion, the validity of this example would remain the same. If there were but one watch in the world, it would not be less certain that it had a maker. If we had never in our Z, Jeee ee Sere es ore eee ere eres ere ee ee eee ee eeEse Ss: et et ies eee a eR teen alae 10 0) 5 NATURAL FHEOLGGY lives seen any but one single kind of hydraulje machine, yet if of that one kind we understood the mechanism and use, we should be as perfectly assured that it proceeded from the hand and thought and skill of a workman, as if we visited a museum of the arts, and saw collected there twenty different lands of machines for drawing water, or a thousand diflerent kinds for other purposes. Of this point each machine is a proof independently of all the rest. So it is with the eviden- ces of adivine agency. The proof is not a conclusion which les at the end of a chain of reasoning, of which chain each ry instance of contrivance is only a link, and of which, if one link fail, the whole falls; but it is an argument separately supphed by every separate example. An error in stating an example aflects only that example. The argument is cu- mulative, in the fullest sense of that term. The eye proves it without the ear; the ear without the eye. The proof in each example is complete ; for when the design of the part, and the conduciveness of its structure to that design is shown, the mind may set itself at rest; no future consideration can detract any thing from the force of the example.PARTS AND FUNCTIONS. oy CHA PYRE Fe. Vie OF THE MECHANICAL AND IMMECHANICAL PARTS AND FUNCTIONS OF ANIMALS AND VEGETABLES. Ir is not that every part of an animal or vegetable has not proceeded from a contriving mind ; or that every part is not constructed with a view to its proper end and purpose, according to the laws belonging to, and governing the sub- stance or the action made use of in that part ; or that each part is not so constructed as to effectuate its purpose while it operates according to these laws; but it is because these laws themselves are not in all cases equally understood, or, what amounts to nearly the same thing, are not equally ex- emplified in more simple processes and more simple ma- chines, that we lay down the distinction here proposed, be- tween the mechanical and immechanical parts of animals. For instance, the principle of muscular motion, namely, upon what cause the swelling of the belly of the muscle, and consequent contraction of its tendons, either by an act of the will, or by involuntary irritation, depends, is wholly unknown to us. The substance employed, whether it be fluid, gaseous, elastic, electrical, or none of these, or nothing resembling these, is also unknown to us: of course, the laws belonging to that substance, and which regulate its action, are unknown to us. We see nothing similar to this contrac- tion in any machine which we can make, or any process which we can execute. So far, it is confessed, we are in ignorance, but no farther. This power and principle, from whatever cause it proceeds, being assumed, the collocation of the fibres to receive the principle, the disposition of the muscles for the use and application of the power, is mechan- ical, and is as intelligible as the adjustment of the wires and strings by which a puppet is moved. We see, there- fore, as far as respects the subject before us, what is not me- BS plc eetdscaeega lad ei fe rceser ¥ ee ee Pe eee eS ee Ee ene ae AS eE See Te Te Re PN a le lead oT ee oy eee eee ek60 NATURAL THEOLOGY. chanical in the animal frame, and what is. The nervous influence—for we are often obliged to give names to things which we know little about—TI say, the nervous influence, by which the belly or middle of the muscle is swelled, is not mechanical. The utility of the efféct we perceive—the means, or the preparation of means, by which it is produced, we do not. But obscurity as to the origin of muscular mo- tion brings no doubtfulness into our observations upon the sequel of the process ; which observations relate, first, to the constitution of the muscle, in consequence of which consti- tution, the swelling of the belly or middle part is necessarily and mechanically followed by a contraction of the tendons ; secondly, to the number and variety of the muscles, and the corresponding number and variety of useful powers which they supply to the animal, which is astonishingly great ; thirdly, to the judicious—if we may be permitted to use that term in speaking of thesAuthor, or of the works of nature— D eee to the wise and well-contrived disposition of each muscle for its specific purpose—for moving the joint this way, and that way, and the other way—tfor pulling and drawing the part to which it is attached in a determinate and particular di- rection, which is a mechanical operation, exemplified in a multitude of stances. To mention only one: the tendon of the trochlear muscle of the eye,* to the end that it may draw in the line required, is passed through a cartilaginous ring, at which it is reverted exactly in the same manner as a rope in a ship is carried over a block, or round a stay, in order to make it pull in the direction which is wanted. All this, as we have said, is mechanical, and is as accessible to * Puate Il., Fig. 1.° The trochlear or superior oblique muscle arises with the straight muscles from the bottom of the orbit. Its muscular portion, a, is extended over the upper part of the eyeball, and gradually assumes the form of a smooth round tendon. b: this passes through the pulley, c, which is fixed to the inner edge of the orbit, d, then returning backwards and downwards, e. is inserted into the sclerotic membrane, J. ‘The use of this muscle is to bring the eye forwards, and twn the pupil downwards and outwards.PARIS AND FUNCTIONS. 61 inspection, as capable of being ascertained, as the mechanism of the automaton in the Strand. Supposing the automaton to be put in motion by a magnet, which is probable, it will supply us with a comparison very apt for our present pur- pose. Of the magnetic effluvium we know perhaps as little as we do of the nervous fluid. But, maenetic attraction being assumed—it signifies nothing from what cause it pro- ceeds—we can trace, or there can be pointed out to us, with perfect clearness and certainty, the mechanism, namely, the steel bars, the wheels, the joints, the wires, by which the motion so much admired is communicated to the fingers of the image ; and to make any obscurity or difficulty, or con- troversy in the doctrine of magnetism, an objection to our knowledge or our certainty concerning the contrivance, or the marks of contrivance, displayed in the automaton, would be exactly the same thing as it is to make our ignorance— which we acknowledge—of the cause of nervous agency, or even of the substance and structure of the nerves them- selves, a ground of question or suspicion as to the reasoning which we institute concerning the mechanical part of our frame. That an animal is a machine, is a proposition net- ther correctly true nor wholly false. The distinction which we have been discussine will serve to show how far the comparison which this expression imphes holds, and where- in it fails. And whether the distinction be thought of im- portance or not, it is certainly of importance to remember, that there is neither truth nor justice in endeavoring to bring a cloud over our understandings, or a distrust into our reason- ings upon this subject, by suggesting that we know nothing of voluntary motion, of irritability, of the principle of life, of sensation, of animal heat, upon all which the animal func- tions depend ; for our ignorance of these parts of the animal frame concerns not at all our knowledge of the mechanical parts of the same frame. I contend, therefore, that there is mechanism in animals; that this mechanism is as properly such as it is in machines made by art; that this mechanism P eee et ee iL Sp So @hSse Pe Zeta s TSEC Sees 4 Pia ek Pe ae ee ee ee pecevsbisscgsceaset?62 NATURAL THEOLOGY. is intelligible and certain ; that it is not the less so, because it often begins or terminates with something which is not mechanical; that whenever it is intelligible and certain, it demonstrates intention and contrivance, as well in the works of nature as in those of art; and that‘it is the best demon- stration which either can afford. But while I contend for these propositions, I do not ex- clude myself from asserting that there may be, and that there are, other cases in which, although we cannot exhibit mech- anism, or prove indeed that mechanism is employed, we want not sufhcient evidence to conduct us to the same con- clusion. There is what may be called the chemical part of our frame ; of which, by reason of the imperfection of our chem- istry, we can attain to no distinct knowledge: I mean, not to a knowledge, either in degree or kind, similar to that which we possess of the mechanical part of our frame. It does not, therefore, afford the same species of argument as that which mechanism aflords; and yet it may afford an argument in a high degree satisfactory. The gastric jutce, or the liquor which digests the food in the stomachs of ani- mals, is of this class. Of all the menstrua it is the most active, the most universal. In the human stomach, for in- stance, consider what a variety of strange substances, and how widely different from one another, it in a few hours reduces to a uniform pulp, milk, or mucilage. It seizes upon every thing; it dissolves the texture of almost every thing that comes in its way. The flesh of perhaps all animals; the seeds and fruits of the greatest number of plants; the roots and stalks, and leaves of many, hard and tough as they are, yield to its powerful pervasion. The change wrought by it is different from any chemical solution which we can produce, or with which we are acquainted, in this respect as well as many others, that in our chemistry particular men- strua act only upon particular substances. Consider, more- over, that this fluid, stronger in its operation than a causticPARTS AND FUNCTIONS. 63 alkali or mineral acid, than red precipitate or aquafortis itself, is nevertheless as mild and bland and inoffensive to the touch or taste as saliva or gum-water, which it much resembles. Consider, I say, these several properties of the digestive organ, and of the juice with which it is supplied, or rather with which it is made to supply itself, and you will confess it to be entitled to a name which it has sometimes received, that of “the chemical wonder of animal nature.” Still, we are ignorant of the composition of this fluid, and of the mode of its action; by which is meant, that we are not capable, as we are in the mechanical part of our frame, of collating it with the operations of art. And this | eall the imperfection of our chemistry ; for, should the time ever arrive, which is not, perhaps, to be despaired of, when we can compound ingredients so as to form a solvent which will act in the manner in which the gastric juice acts, we may be able to ascertain the chemical principles upon which its efficacy depends, as well as from what part, and by what concoction in the human body these principles are generated and derived. In the mean time, ought that which is in truth the defect of our chemistry, to hinder us from acquiescing in the infer- ence which a production of nature, by its place, its proper- ties, its action, its surprising efficacy, its invaluable use, au- thorizes us to draw in respect of a creative design ? Another most subtle and curious function of animal bod- ies is secretion. This function is semichemical and seml- mechanical ; exceedingly important and diversified in its effects, but obscure in its process and in its apparatus. The importance of the secretory organs is but too well attested by the diseases which an excessive, a deficient, or a vitiated secretion is almost sure: of producing. _ A single secretion being wrong is enough to make life miserable, or sometimes to destroy it. Nor is the variety less than the importance. From one and the same blood—I speak of the human body— about twenty different fluids are separated ; in their sensi- Pe a ee eS ee 623 oem sm ee Ga TS Fe T = aS eSB SRE SHOE RSaIS BS er So ee ee ee Poa eat ee ae Pee ee eS ee ee a eee eee ee ee ee ee a fee ee eePCN S SSS LISS SSeS Le oe ES eae SelSeteeece= hs Dae ee ee eee eee re eee Fae ee ee ee a ee ee 64 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ble properties, in taste, smell, color, and consistency, the most unlike one another that is possible—thick, thin, salt, bitter, sweet: and if from our own we pass to other species of animals, we find among their secretions not only the most yarious but the most opposite properties; the most nutri- tious aliment, the deadliest poison ; the sweetest perfumes, the most fetid odors. Of these the greater part, as the gas- tric juice, the saliva, the bile, the slippery mucilage which lubricates the joints, the tears which moisten the eye, the wax which defends the ear, are, after they are secreted, made use of in the animal economy, are evidently subservi- ent, and are actually contributing to the utilities of the ani- mal itself. Other fluids seem to be separated only to be rejected. That this also is necessary—though why it was originally necessary we cannot tell—is shown by the conse- quence of the separation being lone suspended, which con- sequence is disease and death. Akin to secretion, if not the same thing, is assimilation, by which one and the same blood is converted into bone, muscular flesh, nerves, membranes, tendons ; things as diflerent as the wood and iron, canvas and cordage, of which a ship with its furniture is composed. We have no operation of art wherewith exactly to compare all this, for no other reason, perhaps, than that all opera- tions of art are exceeded by it. No chemical election, no chemical analysis or resolution of a substance into its con- stituent parts, no mechanical sifting or division that we are acquainted with, in perfection or variety, come up to animal secretion. Nevertheless, the apparatus and process are ob- scure, not to say absolutely concealed from our inguiries. In a few, and only a few instances, we can discern a lit- tle of the constitution of a gland. In the kidneys of large animals, we can trace the emulgent artery dividing itself into an infinite number of branches ; their extremities every- where communicating with little round bodies, in the sub- stance of which bodies the secret of the machinery seems to reside, for there the change is made. “We can discern pipesPARTS AND FUNCGEIONS. 65 laid from these round bodies towards the pelvis, which is a basin within the solid of the kidney. We can discern these pipes joming and collecting together into larger pipes; and, when so collected, ending im innumerable papille, through which the secreted fluid is continually oozing into its recep- tacle. This is all we know of the mechanism of a gland, even in the case im which it seems most capable of being investigated. Yet to pronounce that we know nothing of animal secretion, or nothing satisfactorily, and with that concise remark to dismiss the article from our argument, would be to dispose of the subject very hastily and very irrationally. For the purpose which we want, that of evine- ing intention, we know a great deal. And what we know is this. We see the blood carried by a pipe, conduit, or duct, to the gland. We see an organized apparatus, be its construction or action what it will, which we ecall that gland. We see the blood, or part of the blood, after it has passed through and undergone the action of the gland, com- ing from it by an emulgent vein or artery, that is, by an- other pipe or conduit. And we see also at the same time a new and specific fluid issuing from the same gland by its excretory duct, that is, by a third pipe or conduit ; which new fluid is in some cases discharged out of the body, in more cases retained within it, and there executing some im- portant and intelligent office. Now supposing, or admit- ting, that we know nothing of the proper internal constitu- tion of a gland, or of the mode of its acting upon the blood, then our situation is precisely like that of an unmechanical looker-on, who stands by a stocking-loom, a corn-mill, a carding-machine, or a thrashing-machine at work, the fab- ric and mechanism of which, as well as-all that passes with- in, is hidden from his sight by the outside ease ; or, if seen, would be too complicated for his uninformed, uninstructed understanding to comprehend. And what is that situation ? This spectator, ignorant as he is, sees at one end a material enter the machine, as unground grain the mill, raw cotton Peer etre Teer ere tee ee Te ot lek. ee ee ee ee oe ee pe A Be en ee ee Pp ey gee a ee ee Ce ee ee See eS ee ee ee re eeePe at ay eee ee tea oe See eee eee ee ge ai ea ct en Se ae et es ae ed tee ee to the work which is to be done, or the end to be 66 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the carding-machine, sheaves of unthreshed corn the thresh- ing-machine ; and when he casts his eye to the other end of the apparatus, he sees the material issuing from it in a new state, and what is more, in a state manifestly adapted to future uses—the grain in meal fit for the making of bread, the wool in rovings ready for spinning into threads, the sheaf in corn dressed for the mill. — Is it necessary that this man, in order to be convinced that design, that intention, that con- trivance has been employed about the machine, should be allowed to pull it to pieces—should be enabled to examine the parts separately, explore their action upon one another, or their operation, whether simultaneous or successive, upon the material which is presented to them? He may long to do this to gratify his curlosity ; he may desire to do it to im- prove his theoretic knowledge ; or he may have a more sub- stantial reason for requesting it, if he happen, instead of a common visitor, to be a millwright by profession, or a per- son sometimes called in to repair such-like machines when out of order; but for the purpose of ascertaining the exist- ence of counsel and design in the formation of the machine, he wants no such intromission or privity. What he sees ig sufficient. The effect upon the material, the chang duced in it, the utility of that change for future applications, abundantly testify, be the concealed part of +t] of its construction what it will contriver. € pro- 1e machine or , the hand and agency of a If any confirmation were wanting to the evidence which the animal secretions afford of design, it may be derived, as has been already hinted, from their fariety, and from their appropriation to their place and use. They all come from the same blood; they are all drawn off by glands; yet the produce is very different, and the difference exactly adapted answered. No account can be given of this, without resorting to ap- pointment. Why, for instance, is the saliva, wl uch is dift fused over the seat of taste, insipid, while so many others ofPARTS AND FUNCTIONS. 67 the secretions, the urine, the tears, and the sweat, are salt ? Why does the gland within the ear separate a viscid sub- stance, which defends that passage; the gland in the outer angle of the eye a thin brine, which washes the ball? Why is the synovia of the joints mucilaginous; the bile bitter, stimulating, and soapy? Why does the juice which flows into the stomach contain powers which make that organ the great laboratory, as it is by its situation the recipient of the materials of future nutrition? These are all fair ques- tions ; and no answer can be given to them but what calls in intelligence and intention. My object in the present chapter has been to teach three things : first, that it is a mistake to suppose that, in reason- ing from the appearances of nature, the imperfection of our knowledge proportionably affects the certainty of our conclu- sion, for in many cases it does not aflect it at all; secondly, that the different parts of the animal frame may be classed and. distributed according to the degree of exactness with which we compare them with works of art ; thirdly, that the mechanical parts of our frame, or those in which this com- parison is most complete, although constituting probably the coarsest portions of nature’s workmanship, are the most proper to be alleged as proofs and specimens of design. Tree Ty Pert es es tae oe eee es ee ee Pg re re nna aT ale i CPRRSB OH GS IE ES ee ee tr rt ee ae ee ee oe ee eeStee eet eee oo ek Bel er oe ne ko coe ot ea Tor es See ee en ee ee a= RPE ESS NATURAL THEOLOGY. CH AP DE Reo Vi ie OF MECHANICAL ARRANGEMENT IN THE HUMAN FRAME. WE proceed, therefore, to propose certain examples taken out of this class; making choice of such as, among those which have come to our knowledge, appear to be the most striking and the best understood; but obliged, perhaps, to postpone both these recommendations to a third, that of the example being capable.of explanation without plates, or fig- ures, or technical language. OF THE BONES, I. I challenge any man to produce in the joints and plv- ots of the most complicated or the most flexible machine that was ever contrived, a construction more artificial, or more evidently artificial, than that which is s een in the -ver- tebre of the human neck. Two things were’to be done: the head was to have the power of bending forward and backward, as in the act of nodding, stooping, looking upward or downward ; and, at the same time, of turning itself round upon the body to a certain extent—the quadrant, we will say, or rather, perhaps, a hundred and twenty degrees of a circle. For these two purposes two distinct contrivances are employed : first, the head rests immediately upon the uppermost part of the vertebre, and is united to it by a hinge-joint, upon which joint the head plays freely forward and backward, as far either Way as is necessary, or as the ligaments allow; which was the first thing required. But then the rotary motion is unprovided for; tk ly, to make the head capable of this, a further mechanism is introduced—not between the head bone of the neck, where the } 1erefore, second- and the uppermost linge is, but between that bone and the bone next underneath it. It is a mechanism re- sembling a tenon and mortise. This second, or uppermostTHE HUMAN FRAME. 69 bone but one, has what anatomists call a process, namely, a projection somewhat similar in size and shape to a tooth ; which tooth entering a corresponding hole or socket in the bone above it, forms a pivot or axle, upon which that upper bone, together with the head which it supports, turns freely in a circle, and as far in the circle as the attached muscles permit the head to turn. Thus are both motions perfect without interfering with each other. When we nod the head, we use the hinge-jomt, which lies between the head and the first bone of the neck. When we turn the head round, we use the tenon and mortise, which runs between the first bone of the neck and the second. We see the same contrivance and the same principle employed in the frame or mounting of a telescope. It is occasionally requisite that the object-end of the instrument be moved up and down, as well as horizontally or equato- rially. For the vertical motion, there is a hinge, upon which the telescope plays ; for the horizontal or equatorial motion, an axis upon which the telescope and the hinge turn to- gether. And this is exactly the mechanism which is appli- ed to the motion of the head; nor will any one here doubt of the existence of counsel and design, except it be by that debility of mind which can trust to its own reasonings 1n nothing. We may add, that it was, on another account, also expe- dient that the motion of the head backward and forward should be performed upon the upper surface of the first ver- tebra; for, if the first vertebra itself had bent forward, it would have brought the spimal marrow, at the very begin- ning of its course, upon the point of the tooth. II. Another mechanical contrivance, not unlike the last in its object, but different and original in its means, is seen in what anatomists call the fore-arm—that is, in the arm between the elbow and the wrist.* Here, for the perfect * Prats IL, Fic. 2. a, the humerus; the head, 8, is a portion ] v5 ) of a sphere, and exhibits an instance of the ball and socket, or wniver- eee eee Vee ee ea ey Se Toe Pie . 7 sbekee Sei geo seed GS TEES TPS SS Se Set ee ee ee ee cd Re BRN re ee ce eld pees hs whew brew Bus ct oe oe ee ee ee eePore ee ea opie &. ee SS foe ee ee ee Fre 70 NATURAL THEOLOGY: use of the limb, two motions are wanted : a motion at the elbow, backward and forward, which is called a reciprocal motion ; and a rotary motion, by which the palm of the hand, as occasion requires, may be turned upward. How is this managed? The fore-arm, it ts well known, consists of two bones, lying alongside each other, but touching only to- wards the ends. One, and only one of these bones is joined to the humerus, or upper part of the arm, at the elbow; the other alone to the hand, at the wrist. The first, by means, at the elbow, of a hinge-jomt—which allows only of motion in the same plane—swings backward and forward, carrying along with it the other bone and the whole fore-arm. In the mean time, as often as there is occasion to turn the palm upward, that other bone to which the hand is attached rolls upon the first by the help of a groove or hollow near each end of one bone, to which is fitted a corresponding promi- nence in the other. If both bones had been joined to the humerus (upper arm) at the elbow, or both to the hand, at the wrist, the thing could not have been done. The first was to be at liberty at one end, and the second at the other, by which means the two actions may be performed togeth- er.* The great bone, which carries the fore-arm, may be swinging upon its hinge at the elbow at the very time that the lesser bone, which carries the hand, may be turning round it in the grooves. The management, also, of these grooves, or rather of the tubercles and grooves, is very ob- servable. The two bones are called the radius and the ulna. Above, that is, towards the elbow, a tubercle of the sal joint; c, the elbow, exemplifying the hingeyoint ; d, the radius, and e, the ulna. The radius belongs more peculiarly to the wrist, be- ing the bone which supports the hand, and turns with it in all its revolving motions. The ulna belongs chiefly to the elbow-joint, and by it we perform all the actions of bending the arm and extending the fore-arm. * Puate II., Fie. 3, shows the connection of the radius, d, with the ulna, e, at the elbow; a, being the humerus. The mode of articu- lation at the wrist is seen in Fig. 2.THE HUMAN FRAME. radius plays into a socket of the ulna; while below, that is, towards the wrist, the radius finds the socket, and the ulna the tubercle. A single bone in the fore-arm, with a ball- and-socket joint at the elbow, which admits of motion in al] directions, might, in some degree, have answered the pur- pose of both moving the arm and turning the hand. But how much better it is accomplished by the present mechan- ism any person may convince himself who puts the ease and quickness with which he can shake his hand at the wrist circularly—moving likewise, if he pleases, his arm at the elbow at the same time—in competition with the compara- tively slow and laborious motion with which his arm can be made to turn round at the shoulder by the aid of a ball-and- socket joint. III. The spene, or backbone, is a chain of joints of very wonderful construction. Various, difficult, and almost in- consistent offices were to be executed by the same instru- ment. It was to be firm, yet flexible—now I know no chain made by art which is both these—for, by firmness, I mean not only strength but stability: fivm, to support the erect position of the body; flexible, to allow of the bending of the trunk in all degrees of curvature. It was further also— which is another and quite a distinct purpose from the rest— to become a pipe or conduit for the safe conveyance from the brain of the most important fluid of the animal frame, that, namely, upon which all voluntary motion depends, the spinal marrow ; a substance not only of the first necessity to action, if not to life, but of a nature so delicate and ten- der, so susceptible and so impatient of injury, as that any unusual pressure upon it, or any considerable obstruction of its course, is followed by paralysis or death. Now the spine was not only to furnish the main trunk for the passage of the medullary substance from the brain, but to give out, in the course of its progress, small pipes therefrom, which, being afterwards indefinitely subdivided, micht, under the name of nerves, distribute this exquisite peer errr Tre errs tee Pe ee Ste ke feeeeree eee rs ee ry se ee BP Te Oe ee ee oe eee ae Pee a Pe eePeorese ari er ee ee ee ae eee sete eee ee a eee ee ed ce NATURAL THEOLOGY. supply to every part of the body. The same spine was also to serve another use not less wanted than the preceding, namely, to afford a fulcrum, stay, or basis—or, more proper- ly speaking, a series of these—for the insertion of the mus- cles which are spread over the trunk of the body ; in which trunk there are not, as in the limbs, cylindrical bones to which they can be fastened : and likewise, which is a similar use, to furnish a support for the ends of the ribs to rest upon. Bespeak of a workman a piece of mechanism which shall comprise all these purposes, and let him set about to con- trive it; let him try his skill upon it; let him feel the diffi- culty of accomplishing the task, before he be told how the same thing is effected in the animal frame. Nothing will enable him to judge so well of the wisdom which has been employed—nothing will dispose him to think of it so truly. First, for the firmness, yet flexibility of the spine : it is com- posed of a great number of bones in the human subject, of twenty-four—joined to one another, and compacted by broad bases. The breadth of the bases upon which the parts sev- erally rest, and the closeness of the junction, give to the chain its firmness and stability; the number of parts, and consequent frequency of joints, its flexibility. Which flexi- bility, we may also observe, varies in different parts of the chain: is least in the back, where strength more than flex- ure 1s wanted ; greater in the loins, which it was necessary should be more supple than the back ; and greatest of all in the neck, for the free motion of the head. Then, secondly, in order to afford a passage for the descent of the medullary substance, each of these bones is bored through in the mide dle, in such a manner as that; when put together, the hole in one bone falls into a line and corresponds with the holes in the two bones contiguous to it. By which means the per- forated pieces, when joined, form an entire, close, uninter- rupted channel, at least while the spine is upright and at rest. But as a settled posture is inconsistent with its use, a great difficulty still remained, which was to prevent theTHE HUMAN FRAME. Td vertebre shifting upon one another, so as to break the line of the canal as often as the body moves or twists, or the joints gaping externally whenever the body is bent forward and the spine thereupon made to take the form of a bow. These dangers, which are mechanical, are mechanically pro- vided against. The vertebra, by means of their processes and projections, and of the articulations which some of these form with one another at their extremities, are so locked in and confined as to maintain, in what are called the bodies or broad surfaces of the bones, the relative position nearly unaltered, and to throw the change and the pressure pro- duced by flexion almost entirely upon the intervening carti- lages, the springiness and yielding nature of whose substance admits of all the motion which is necessary to be performed upon them, without any chasm being produced by a separa- tion of the parts. I say, of all the motion which is neces- sary; for although we bend our backs to every degree al- most of inclination, the motion of each vertebra is very small: such is the advantage we receive from the chain being composed of so many links, the spine of so many bones. Had it consisted of three or four bones only, in bend- ing the body the spinal marrow must have been bruised at every angle. The reader need not be told that these inter- vening cartilages are gristles, and he may see them in per- fection in a loin of veal. Their form also favors the same imtention. They are thicker before than behind ; so that when we stoop forward, the compressible substance of the cartilage, yielding in its thicker and anterior part to the force which squeezes it, brings the surface of the adjoining verte- bre nearer to the being parallel with one another than they were before, instead of increasing the inclination of their planes, which must have occasioned a fissure or opening between them. Thirdly, for the medullary canal, giving out in its course, and im a convenient order, a supply of nerves to different parts of the body, notches are made in the upper and lower edge of every vertebra, two on each edge, equi- Nat . Theols 4. ee ee a 2 P 23 that Canterte Det Beis Ww FB ty Ba Ba ee eee re ke S¥S< COREA eERRS SES SES74 NATURAL THEOLOGY. distant on each side from the middle line of the back. When the vertebre are put together, these notches, exactly fitting, form small holes, through which the nerves at each articu- lation issue out in pairs, in order to send their branches to every part of the body, and with an equal bounty to both sides of the body. The fourth purpose assigned to the same ‘nstrument is the insertion of the bases of the muscles, and the support of the ends of the ribs; and for this fourth pur- pose, especially the former part of it, a figure specifically suited to the design, and unnecessary for the other purposes, is given to the constituent bones. While they are plain and round and smooth towards the front, where any rough- ness or projection might have wounded the adjacent viscera, they run out behind and on each side into long processes ; to which processes the muscles necessary to the motions of the trunk-are fixed, and fixed with such art, that while the vertebre supply a basis for the muscles, the muscles help to keep these bones in their position, or by their tendons to tie them together. That most important, however, and general property, namely, the strength of the compages, and the security against luxation, was to be still more specially consulted ; for where so many joints were concerned, and where in every one, derangement would have been fatal, it became a subject of studious precaution. Tor this purpose the ver- tebre are articulated, that is, the movable jomts between them are formed by means of those projections of their sub- stance which we have mentioned under the name of process- es, and these so lock in with and overwrap one another as to secure the body of the vertebra not only from accidentally slipping, but even from being pushed out of its place by any violence short of that which would break the bone. I have often remarked and admired this structure in the chine of a hare. In this, as in many instances, a plain observer of the animal economy may spare himself the disgust of being pres- ent at human dissections, and yet learn enough for his infor-THE 2 HUMAN FRAME. Lo mation and satisfaction, by even examining the bones of the animals which come upon his table. Let him take, for exam- ple, into his hands a piece of the clean-picked bone of a hare’s back, consisting, we will suppose, of three vertebre. He will find the middle bone of the three so implicated, by means of its projections or processes, with the bone on each side of it, that no pressure which he can use will force it out of its place between them. It will give way neither forward nor back- ward, nor on either side. In whichever direction he pushes, he perceives, in the form, or junction, or overlapping of the bones, an impediment opposed to his attempt, a check and guard against dislocation. In one part of the spine he will find a still further fortifying expedient, in the mode accord- ing to which the mbs are articulated to the spine. Each rib rests upon two vertebre. That is the thing to be re- marked, and any one may remark it in carving a neck of mutton. The manner of it is this: the end of the rib is di- vided by a middle ridge into two surfaces, which surfaces are joined to the bodies of two contiguous vertebre, the ridge applying itself to the intervening cartilage. Now this is the very contrivance which is employed in the famous iron bridge at my door at Bishop-Wearmouth, and for the same purpose of stability, namely, the cheeks of the bars which pass between the arches ride across the jomts by which the pieces composing each arch are united. Hach cross-bar rests upon two of these pieces at their place of junction, and by that position resists, at least im one direction, any tendency in either piece to slip out of its place. Thus perfectly, by one means or the other, is the danger of slipping laterally, or of being drawn aside out of the dine of the back, provided against ; and to withstand the bones being pulled asunder longitudinally, or in the direction of that line, a strong mem- brane runs from one end of the chain to the other, sufficient to resist any force which is likely to act in the direction of the back or parallel to it, and consequently to secure the whole combination in their places. The general result is, C7 Perri seis Te rr yy et se errr To et Tot ee ee er eee Ss eae ee ee ee ee et ae ee ee oo a oe Peek pee ee ee nee Dd) Sod aki need ae ee ee ee ee a teec hs seers eee eestor es Sat ie yt eee Sd et tes Cs ee ees 76 NATURAL THEOLOGY. that not only the motions of the human body necessary for the ordinary offices of life are performed with safety, but that it is an incident hardly ever heard of that even the ges- ticulations of a harlequin distort his spine. Upon the whole, and as a guide to those who may be inclined to carry the consideration of this subject further, there are three views under which the spine ought to be re- garded, and in all which it cannot fail to excite our admira- tion. These views relate to its articulations, its ligaments, and its perforations; and to the corresponding advantages which the body derives from it for action, for strength, and for that which is essential to every part, a secure communi- cation with the brain. The structure of the spine is not in general different in different animals. In the serpent tribe, however, it is con- siderably varied; but with a strict reference to the conven- iency of the animal. For whereas in quadrupeds the num- ber of vertebre is from thirty to forty, in the serpent it is nearly one hundred and fifty : whereas in men and quadru- peds the surfaces of the bones are flat, and these flat surfaces laid one against the other, and bound tight by smews; in the serpent, the bones play one within another, like a ball and socket,* so that they have a free motion upon one an- other in every direction: that is to say, in men and quadru- peds, firmness is more consulted ; in serpents, phancy. Yet even pliancy is not obtained at the expense of safety. The backbone of a serpent, for coherence and flexibility, is one of the most curious pieces of animal mechanism with which we are acquainted. The chain of a watch—I mean the chain which passes between the spring-barrel and the fu- 1° ohne see—which aims at the same properties, is but a bun piece of workmanship in comparison with that of which we speak. IV. The reciprocal enlargement and contraction of the chest, to allow for the play of the lungs, depends upon a sim- *& Der. Phys. Theol., p- 396.THE HUMAN FRAME. Ai ple yet beautiful mechanical contrivance, referable to the structure of the bones which enclose it. The ribs are artic- ulated to the backbone, or rather to its side projections, 00- liquely : that is, in their natural position they bend or slope from the place of articulation downwards. But the basis upon which they rest at this end being fixed, the consequence of the obliquity, or the inclination downwards 1s, that when hey come to move, whatever pulls the ribs upwards, neces- T sarily at the same time draws them out; and that, while the ribs are brought to a right angle with the spine behind, the sternum, or part of the chest to which they are attached in front, is thrust forward. The simple action, therefore, of the elevating muscles does the business ; whereas, if the ribs had been articulated with the bodies of the vertebre at nght angles, the cavity of the thorax could never have been fur- ther enlarged by a change of their position. If each rib had been a rigid bone, articulated at both ends to fixed bases, the whole chest had been immovable. Keill has observed that the breastbone, in an easy inspiration, is thrust out one-tenth of an inch; and he calculates that this, added to what is gained to the space within the chest by the flatten- ine or descent of the diaphragm, leaves room for forty-two cubic inches of air to enter at every drawing-in of the breath. When there is a necessity for a deeper and more laborious inspiration, the enlargement of the capacity of the chest may be so increased by effort, as that the lungs may be distended with seventy or a hundred such cubie inches.* The thorax, says Schelhammer, forms a kind of bellows, such as never have been, nor probably will be, made by any artificer. Vin The patella, or kneepan,} is a curious little bone ; in its form and office unlike any other bone in the body. It is circular, the size of a crown-piece, pretty thick, a little convex on both sides, and covered with a smooth cartilage. It lies upon the front of the knee; and the powerful tendons by which the leg is brought forward, pass through it—or * Anat. p. 229. T See Fig. 4. peer errr Tre tere Pees Pee ee ef ee ee ee eS ee ee eines tar ehead tare RR Eta &. Se eS hae Sy See TS Se L ESS Ae St AS ee res re ee ee ee! oe ee ee Ye ee eidCee eit eos tea ee ee ee ro oe eee ed ee ee ee ee eo ed ee Ce Salk eee 78 NATURAL THEOLOGY. rather, it makes a part of their continuation—from their ori- gin in the thigh to their insertion in the tibia. It protects both the tendon and the joint from any injury which either might suffer by the rubbing of one against the other, or by the pressure of unequal surfaces. It also gives to the ten- dons a very considerable mechanical advantage, by altering the line of their direction, and by advancing it further out from the centre of motion; and this upon the principles of the resolution of force, upon which principles all machinery is founded. These are its uses. But what is most observ- able in it is, that it appears to be supplemental, as it were, to the frame ; added, as it should almost seem, afterward ; not quite necessary, but very convenient. It is separate from the other bones; that is, it is not connected with any other bones by the common mode of union. It is soft, or hardly formed, in infancy ; and produced by an ossification, of the inception or progress of which no account can be given from the structure or exercise of the part. VI. The showlder-blade is, in some material respects, a © very singular bone, appearing to be made so expressly for its own purpose, and so independently of every other reason, In such quadrupeds as have no collar-bones, which are by far the greater number, the shoulder-blade has no bony com- munication with the trunk, either by a joint, or process, or > > in any other way. It does not grow to, or out of any other bone of the trunk. It does not apply to any other bone of the trunk—I know not whether this be true of any second bone in the body, except perhaps the os hyoides—in strictness, 1t forms no part of the skeleton. It is bedded in the flesh, attached only to the muscles. It is no other than a foundation bone for the arm, laid in separate as it were, and distinct from the general ossification. The lower limbs con- nect themselves at the hip with bones which form part of the skeleton ; but this connection in the upper limbs being wanting, a basis, whereupon the arm might be articulated, was to be supplied by a detached ossification for the purpose.THE HUMAN FRAME. OF LHe JOINT s- I. The above are a few examples of bones made remark- able by their configuration; but to almost all the bones be- long joints ; and in these, still more clearly than in the form or shape of the bones themselves, are seen both contrivance and contriving wisdom. Every joint is a curiosity, and is also strictly mechanical. There is the hinge-joimt, and the mortise-and-tenon jot; each as manifestly such, and as accurately defined, as any which can be produced out of a cabinet-maker’s shop; and one or the other prevails, as either is adapted to the motion which is wanted : for exam- ple, a mortise-and-tenon, or ball-and-socket joint, is not re- quired at the knee, the leg standing in need only of a motion backward and forward in the same plane, for which a hinge- joint is sufficient; a mortise-and-tenon, or ball-and-socket joint is wanted at the hip, not only that the progressive step may be provided for, but that the interval between the limbs may be enlarged or contracted at pleasure. Now observe what would have been the inconveniency—that is, both the superfluity and the defect of articulation, if the case had if the ball-and-socket joint had been at the knee, and the hinge-joint at the hip. The thighs must have been inverted been kept constantly together, and the legs had been loose and straddling. There would have been no use, that we know of. in being able to turn the calves of the legs before ; and there would have been great confinement by restraining the motion of the thighs to one plane. The disadvantage would not have been less if the jomts at the hip and the knee had been both of the same sort—both balls and sock~ ets, or both hinges; yet why, independently of utility, and of a Creator who consulted that utility, should the same bone—the thivh-bone—be rounded at one end, and chan- nelled at the other? The hinge-joint is not formed by a bolt passing through the two parts of the hinge, and thus keeping them in their places, but by a different expedient. A strong, tough, parch- Syl veddse ee Gets es TFS SSH S3e RITES eer eee rs ee re ee te SSS ESPERO RE ee oe ee ae eo Poe a oe enn) Et pe pen ateryasos SP SESS Sbes Pee ore ee et fee ee eee ey eetne eae cha ea eee ee Ce eee ae oe os ee as ot eh 80 NALTURA Lb; 2 EE OLOGY. ment-like membrane, rising from the receiving bones, and inserted all round the received bones a little below their heads, encloses the joint on every side. This membrane ties, confines, and holds the ends of the bones together, keeping the corresponding parts of the joints—that is, the relative convexities and concavities—in close application to each other. For the ball-and-socket joint, besides the membrane already described, there is in some important joints, as an ad- ditional security, a short, strong, yet flexible ligament, insert- ed by one end into the head of the ball. by the other, into the bottom of the cup; which hgament keeps the two parts of the joint so firmly in their place, that none of the motions which the limb naturally performs, none of the jerks and twists to which it is ordinarily liable, nothing less indeed than the utmost and the most unnatural violence, can pull them asunder. It is hardly imaginable how great a force is necessary even to stretch, still more to break. this ligament : yet so flexible is it, as to oppose no impediment to the sup- pleness of the joint. By its situation also, it is inaccessible to injury from sharp edges. As it cannot be ruptured, such is its strength, so it cannot be cut, except by an accident which would sever the limb. If I had been permitted to frame a proof of contrivance such as might satisfy the most distrustful inquirer, I know not whether I could have chosen an example of mechanism more unequivocal or more free from objection, than this hgament. Nothimg can be more mechanical ; nothing, however subservient to the safety, less capable of being generated by the action of the joint... 1 would particularly solicit the reader’s attention to this pro- vision, as it is found in the head of the thigh-bone—to its strength, its structure, and its use. It is an instance upon which I lay my hand. One single fact, weighed by a mind in earnest, leaves oftentimes the deepest impression. For the purpose of addressing different understandings and dif. ferent apprehensions—for the purpose of seutiment—for theTHE HUMAN FRAME. 8 81 purpose of exciting admiration of the Creator’s works, we diversify our views, and multiply our examples: but for the purpose of strict argument, one clear instance is sufficient ; and not only sufficient, but capable perhaps of generating a firmer assurance than what can arise from a divided atten- tion. The genglymus, or hinge-joint, does not, it is manwest, admit of a licament of the same kind with that of the ball- and-socket joint ; but it is always fortified by the species of hgament of which it does admit. The strong, firm, invest- ing membrane above described accompanies it in every part ; and in particular joints, this membrane, which is prop- erly a ligament, is considerably stronger on the sides than either before or behind, in order that the convexities may play true in their concavities, and not be subject to slip side- ways, which is the chief danger; for the muscular tendons generally restrain the parts from going further than they ought to go in the plane of their motion. In the ‘vee, which is a joint of this form, and of great importance, there are superadded to the common provisions for the stability of the joint, two strong ligaments, which cross each other— and cross each other in such a manner as to secure the joint from being displaced in any assignable direction.* ‘J think,” says Cheselden, ‘that the knee cannot be complete- ly dislocated without breaking the cross ligaments.’t We can hardly help comparing this with the binding up of a fracture, where the fillet is almost wholly strapped across, for the sake of giving firmness and strength to the bandage. k PLATE Li. hie 5; The crucial or unternal licaments of the knee-joints arise from each side of the depression between the con- dyles of the thigh-bone: the anterior is fixed into the centre, the poste- rior into the back of the articulation of the tibia. This structure prop- erly limits the motions of the joints, and gives the firmness requisite for violent exertions. Viewing the form of the bones, we should con- sider it one of the weakest and most superficial joints ; but the strength of its ligaments and of the tendons passing over it, renders it the most secure and the least liable to dislocation of any in the body. +t Cheselden’s Anat., ed. 7th, p. 49. A% sp legdisd pigs tere Tee fseesss RSe* $7 ‘ere epee Peo ee ee ey LSE Pe PERSE Se epee eS Sy Ve | ee ee SPS Fas ees eS SSeS Sees eee Eee teefait ene ee ee cegeal ete tee eee aS = oe oe eo Ct ees ? See ee ee ees ae See ae ee ts 82 NATURAL THEOLOGY. Another no less important joint, and that also of the gin- glymus sort, is the ankle ; yet though important—in order, perhaps, to preserve the symmetry and lghtness of the limnb—small, and on that account more liable to injury. Now this joint is strengthened, that is, is defended from dis- location by two remarkable processes or prolongations of the bones of the leg, which processes form the protuberances that we call the inner and outer ankle. It is part of each bone gomg down lower than the other part, and thereby overlapping the joint: so that if the joint be in danger of slipping outward, it is curbed by the inner projection, that is, that of the tibia ; if inward, by the outer projection, that is, that of the fibula, Between both, it is locked in its position. I know no account that can be given of this structure, ex- cept its utility. Why should the tibia terminate at its lower extremity with a double end, and the fibula the same, but to barricade the joint on both sides by a continuation of part of the thickest of the bone over it? The joint at the shovdl- der, compared with the jomt at the hzp, though both ball- and-socket joints, discovers a difference in their form and proportions, well suited to the different offices which the limbs have to execute. The cup or socket at the shoulder is much shallower and flatter than it is at the hip, and is also in part formed of cartilage set round the rim of the cup. The socket into which the head of the thigh-bone is inserted, is deeper, and made of more solid materials. This agrees with the duties assigned to each part. The arm is an instrument of motion principally, if not solely. Accordingly, the shal- lowness of the socket at the shoulder, and the yieldineness of the cartilaginous substance with which its edge is set round, and which in fact composes a considerable part of its concavity, are excellently adapted for the allowance of a free motion and a wide range, both which the arm wants. Whereas the lower limb forming a part of the column of the body—having to support the body, as well as to be the means of its locomotion—firmness was to be consulted asTHE HUMAN FRAME. 83 Od well as action. With a capacity for motion in all directions indeed, as at the shoulder, but not in any direction to the Same extent as in the arm, was to be united stability, or re- sistance to dislocation. Hence the deeper excavation of the socket, and the presence of a less proportion of cartilage upon the edge. The suppleness and pliability of the joints we every mo- ment experience ; and the firmness of animal articulation, the property we have hitherto been considering, may be judged of from this single observation, that, at any given moment of time, there are millions of animal joints in com- plete repair and use, for one that is dislocated ; and this, notwithstanding the contortions and wrenches to which the limbs of animals are continually subject. II. The joznts, or rather the ends of the bones which form them, display also, in their configuration, another use. The nerves, bloodvessels, and tendons, which are necessary to the life, or for the motion of the limbs, must, it is evident, in their way from the trunk of the body to the place of their destination, travel over the movable joints ; and it is no less evident that, in this part of their course, they will have, from sudden motions, and from abrupt changes of curvature, to encounter the danger of compression, attrition, or lacera- tion. ‘Lo guard fibres so tender against consequences so in- jurious, their path is in those parts protected with peculiar ‘are, and that by a provision in the figure of the bones them- selves. The nerves which supply the fore-arm, especially the inferior cubital nerves, are at the elbow conducted, by a kind of covered way, between the condyles, or rather under the inner extuberances of the bone which composes the up- per part of the arm.* At the Anee, the extremity of the thigh-bone is divided by a sinus, or cliff, into two heads or protuberances ; and these heads on the back part stand out beyond the cylinder of the bone. Through the hollow which lies between the hind parts of these two heads—that is to * Cheselden’s Anat., p. 255, ed. 7. PSE rarer ete? Tees peer eee Pir es ot : e pa Pee ee a ee Sees PAL Lae Ee Si be ELieend SH eSea >Se adhe te a er a ee et 84 NATURAL THHOUOGY. say, under the ham, between the hamstrings, and within the concave recess of the bone formed by the extuberances on each side—in a word, along a defile, between rocks, pass the great. vessels and nerves which go to the leg.* Who led these vessels by a road so defended and secured? In the joint at the shoulder, in the edge of the cup which receives the head of the bone, is a 20tch, which is joined or covered at the top with a ligament. Through this hole, thus guard- ed, the bloodvessels steal to their destination in the arm, in- stead of mounting over the edge of the concavity.t Ill. In all joints, the ends of the bones which work against each other, are tipped with grzstle. In the ball-and- socket joint, the cup is lined and the ball capped with it. The smooth surface, the elastic and unfriable nature of car- tilage, render it of all substances the most proper for the place and purpose. I should, therefore, have pointed this out among the foremost of the provisions which have been made in the joints for the facilitating of their action, had it not been alleged that cartilage in truth is only nascent or imperfect bone; and that the bone in these places is kept soft and imperfect, 1 consequence of a more complete and rigid ossification being prevented from taking place by the continual motion and rubbing of the surfaces ; which being so, what we represent as a designed advantage is an una- voidable effect. 1am far from being convinced that this is a true account of the fact ; or that, if it were so, it answers the argument. To me the surmounting of the bones with gristle looks more like a plating with a different metal, than like the same metal kept in a different state by the action to which it is exposed. At all events, we have a great particular ben- efit, though arising from a general constitution; but this last, not bemg quite what my argument requires, lest I should seem by applying the instance to overrate its value, I have thought it fair to state the question which attends it. IV. In some joints, very particularly in the knees, there * Ches. Anat., p. 3a; } bigs. 30.THE HUMAN FRAME. Sd are loose cartilages or gristles between the bones and with- in the joint, so that the ends of the bones, instead of work- ing upon one another, work upon the intermediate cartilages. Cheselden has observed,* that the contrivance of a loose ring is practised by mechanics where the friction of the joints of any of their machines is great, as between the parts of crook- hinges of large gates, or under the head of the male screw of large vices. The cartilages of which we speak have very much of the form of these rings. The-comparison, moreover, shows the reason why we find them in the knees rather than in other joints. It is an expedient, we have seen, which a mechanic resorts to only when some strong and heavy work is to be done. So here the thigh-bone has to achieve ht of the body pressing upon it, and often, as in rising from our seat, with its motion at the knee, with the whole weig the whole weight of the body to lift. It should seem also, from Cheselden’s account, that the slipping and sliding of the loose cartilages, though it be probably a small and ob- scure change, humored the motion at the end of the thigh- bone, under the particular configuration which was neces- sary to be given to it for the commodious action of the ten- dons, and which configuration requires what he calls a vari- able socket, that is, a concavity, the lines of which assume a different curvature in different mclinations of the bones. V. We have now done with the configuration ; but there is also in the joints, and that common to them all, another exquisite provision manifestly adapted to their use, and con- cerning which there can, I think, be no dispute, namely, the regular supply of a mucilage, more emollient and slippery than oil itself, which is constantly softening and lubricating the parts that rub upon each other, and thereby diminishing the effect of attrition in the highest possible degree. For the continual secretion of this important liniment, and for the feeding of the cavities of the jomt with it, glands are fixed near each joint, the excretory ducts of which glands, * Ches. Anat., p. 13,.ed. 7. e- ees +a pega tae = FF ee eee ae te oe a pe ee ee ee ee oe ee en Pee Fee ee ee ee ee ae ee > ee ee ee ee eeeset a ee ee eS eo. ee eee ed ee a ope Pater a ene eee ene eee tet ee eee et Sa NATURAL THEOLOGY. 86 dripping with their balsamic contents, hang loose like fringes within the cavity of the joints. A late improvement in what are called friction wheels, which consists of a mechan- ism so ordered as to be regularly dropping oil into a box which encloses the axis, the nave, and certain balls upon which the nave revolves, may be said, in some sort, to rep- resent the contrivance in the animal joint, with this superi- ority, however, on the part of the joint, namely, that here the oil is not only dropped, but made. In considering the joints, there is nothing, perhaps, which ought to move our gratitude more than the reflection, how well they wear. A. limb shall swing upon its hinge, or play in its socket, many hundred times in an hour, for sixty years together, without diminution of its agility, which is a long time for any thing to last—for any thing so much worked and exercised asthe joints are. This durability I should attribute in part to the provision which is made for the preventing of wear and tear, first by the polish of the cartilaginous surfac- es; secondly, by the healing lubrication of the mucilage, and in part, to that astonishing property of animal constitutions, assimilation, by which, in every portion of the body, let it con- sist of what it will, substance is restored and waste repaired. Movable joints, I think, compose the curiosity of bones ; but their union, even where no motion is intended or want- ed, carries marks of mechanism and of mechanical wisdom. The teeth, especially the front teeth, are one bone fixed in another, like a peg driven into a board. The sutures of the skull* are like the edges of two saws clapped together in such a manner as that the teeth of one enter the intervals of the other. We have sometimes one bone lapping over another, and planed down at the edges ; sometimes also the thin lamel- la of one bone received into a narrow furrow of another. In all which varieties we seem to discover the same desien, namely, firmness of juncture without clumsiness in the som * Puate Il., Fie. 6. a, a, the coronal suture; 8, the sagittal ; c, c, the lambdoidal; d, an irregularity ; and e, e, the Squamous sutures.CHAPTER Muscies, with their tendons, are the instruments by which animal motion is performed. It will be our business to point out instances in which, and properties with respect to which, the disposition of these muscles is as strictly me- chanical as that of the wires and strings of a puppet. I. We may observe, what I believe is universal, an exact relation between the joint and the muscles which move it. Whatever motion the joimt by its mechanical construction is capable of performing, that motion the annexed muscles by their position are capable of producing. For example, if there be, as at the knee and elbow, a hinge-joint, capable of motion only in the same plane, the leaders, as they are called, that is, the muscular tendons, are placed in direc- tions parallel to the bone, so as, by the contraction or relax- ation of the muscles to which they belong, to produce that motion and no other. If these joints were capable of a freer motion, there are no muscles to produce it. Whereas, at the shoulder and the hip, where the ball-and-socket jomt allows by its construction of a rotary or sweeping motion, tendons are placed in such a position, and pull in such a direction, as to produce the motion of which the joint admits. For instance, the sartorius or tailor’s muscle,* rising from the spine, running diagonally across the thigh, and taking hold of the inside of the main bone of the leg a little below the knee, enables us, by its contraction, to throw one leg and thigh over the other, giving eflect at the same time to the ball-and-socket joint at the hip, and the hinge-joint at the knee. There is, as we have seen, a specific mechanism in * Prater III., Fie. 1. The sartorius, a, is the longest muscle of the human system. It is extended obliquely across the thigh from the fore part of the hip to the inner side of the tibia. Its office is to bend the knee and bring the leg inwards. $4 gi vgesa pede ts ¥e ti 2s Pees Ss eS oe ee ee eS et oe Se ae tie hei Be Bw SR RE ae REN ee ee ee ee — VESSELS OF ANIMALS. 153 means or other, to be passed through them. Accordmely, we find the number of the lacteals exceeding all powers of computation, and their pipes so fine and slender as not to be visible, unless filled, to the naked eye, and their orifices, which open into the intestines, so small as not to be diseern- ible even by the best microscope. Fourthly, the main pipe, which carries the chyle from the reservoir to the blood, namely, the thoracic duct, being fixed m an almost upright position, and wanting that advantage of propulsion which the arteries possess, is furnished with a succession of valves to check the ascending fluid, when once it has passed them, from falling back. The valves look upwards, so as to leave the ascent free, but to prevent: the return of the chyle, if, for want of sufficient force to push it on, its weight should at any time cause it to descend. Fifthly, the chyle enters the blood in an odd place, but perhaps the most commodious place possible, namely, at a large vein in the neck, so situ- ated with respect to the circulation as speedily to bring the mixture to the heart. And this seems to be a circumstance of great moment; for had the chyle entered the blood at an artery, or at a distant vein, the fluid composed of the old and the new materials must have performed a considerable part of the circulation before it received that churning in the lungs which is probably necessary for the intimate and perfect union of the old blood with the recent chyle. Who could have dreamed of a communication between the cavity of the intestines and the left great vein of the eck 2 Who could have suspected that this communication should be the medium:through which all nourishment is derived to the body, or this the place where, by a side inlet, the important junction is formed between the blood and the material which feeds it ? We postponed the consideration of digestion, lest 1t should interrupt us in tracing the course of the food to the blood ; but in treating of the alimentary system, so principal a part of the process cannot be omitted. Si ¢etaisapege lees TF es re eee ee ee ee Sa eV Ere ee eS See TO ee ee eT Bee Pe Eres ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee PeLS terer ett eePLL Ete eee See Ee SSeS ap ewe bay DSP ose or ee oe cee 7 Bee eed reas Te et weed. ree ee Ra ale ier To ae ee a et - 118 NATURAL THEOLOGY. Of the gastric juice, the immediate agent by which that change which food undergoes in our stomachs is effected, we shall take our account from the numerous careful and varied experiments of the Abbé Spallanzani. 1. It is not a simple diluent, but a’ real solvent. A quarter of an ounce of beef had scarcely touched the stomach of a crow, when the solution began. 2. It has not the nature of saliva; it has not the nature of bile; but is distinct from both. By experiments out of the body, it appears that neither of these secretions acts upon alimentary substances in the same manner as the gastric juice acts. Digestion is not putrefaction, for the digesting fluid 22 Oo resists putrefaction most pertinaciously ; nay, not only ehecks its further progress, but restores putrid substances. 4. Itis not a fermentative process, for the solution begins at the surface, and proceeds towards the centre, contrary to the order in which fermentation acts and spreads. 5. It is not the digestion of heat, for the cold maw of a cod or sturgeon will dissolve the shells of crabs or lobsters, harder than the sides of the stomach which contais them. In a word, animal digestion carnes about it the marks of being a power and a process completely swz generis, distinct from every other, at least from every chemical process with which we are acquainted. And the most wonderful thing about it is its appropriation—its subserviency to the partic- ular economy of each animal. The gastric juice of an owl, falcon, or kite will not touch grain; no, not even to finish the macerated and half-digested pulse which is left in the crops of the sparrows that the bird devours. In poultry, the trituration of the gizzard, and the gastric juice, conspire in the work of digestion. The gastric juice will not dissolve the grain while it is whole. Entire grains of barley, en- closed in tubes or spherules, are not affected by it. But if the same graim be by any means broken or ground, the gas- tric juice immediately lays hold of it. Here then is wanted,VESSELS OF ANIMALS. 119 and here we find, a combination of mechanism and chem- istry. For the preparatory grinding, the gizzard lends its mill; and as all mill-work should be strong, its structure is so beyond that of any other muscle belonging to the animal. The internal coat also, or lining of the gizzard, is, for the same purpose, hard and cartilaginous. But, forasmuch as this is not the sort.of animal substance suited for the recep- tion of glands, or for secretion, the gastric juice, in this fam- ily, 1s not supplied, as in membranous stomachs, by the stomach itself, but by the gullet, in which ‘the feeding- glands are placed, and from which it trickles down into the stomach. In sheep, the gastric fluid has no effect in digesting plants, waless they have been previously masticated. It only produces a slight maceration, nearly such as common water would produce, in a degree of heat somewhat exceed- ing the medium temperature of the atmosphere. But, pro- vided that the plant has been reduced to pieces by chewing, the gastric juice then proceeds with it, first, by softening its substance ; next, by destroying its natural consistency ; and, lastly, by dissolving it so completely as not even to spare the toughest and most stringy parts, such as the nerves of the leaves. So far our accurate and indefatigable abbé. Dr. Stevens of Edinburgh, in 1777, found, by experiments tried with perforated balls, that the gastric juice of the sheep and the ox speedily dissolved vegetables, but made no impression upon beef, mutton, and other animal bodies. Mr. Hunter discovered a property of this fluid of a most curious kind, namely, that in the stomach of animals which feed upon flesh, irresistibly as this fluid acts upon animal substances, it is only upon the dead substance that it operates at all. The living fibre suffers no injury from lying in contact with it. Worms and insects are found alive in the stomachs of such animals. The coats of the human stomach, ina healthy state, are insensible to its presence ; yet in cases of sudden aaa eeesehSgERoe? vote Get 2 as we ate at ey ee ee ee ee re ee ee ee a ee eeePP eo oe Sees eo BRED BPP eI 9: Sey ee : tee es € RES 120 NATURAL THEOLOGY. death—wherein the gastric juice, not having been weakened by disease, retains its activity—it has been known to eat a hole through the bowel which contains it.* How nice is this discrimination of action, yet how necessary. But to return to our hydraulics. IV. The gall-bladder is a very remarkable contrivance. It is the reservoir of a canal. It does not form the channel itself, that is, the direct communication between the liver and the intestine, which is by another passage, namely, the ductus hepaticus. continued under the name of the ductus communis ; but it lies adjacent to this channel, joining it by a duct of its own, the ductus cysticus: by which structure it is enabled, as occasion may require, to add its contents to and increase the flow of bile into the duodenum. And the position of the gall-bladder is such as to apply this structure to the best advantage. In its natural situation, it touches the exterior surface of the stomach, and consequently is com- pressed by the distention of that vessel; the effect of which compression is to force out from the bag, and send into the duodenum, an extraordinary quantity of bile, to meet the extraordinary demand which the repletion of the stomach by food is about to occasion.t| Cheselden’ describest the gall-bladder as seated against the duodenum, and thereby liable to have its fluid pressed out by the passage of the aliment through that cavity, which likewise will have the effect of causing it to be received into the intestine at a right time and in a due proportion. There may be other purposes answered by this contriv- ance, and it is probable that there are. The contents of the gall-bladder are not exactly of the same kind as what passes from the liver through the direct passage.§ It is possible that the gall may be changed, and for some pur- poses meliorated, by keeping. The entrance of the gall-duct into the duodenum fur- * Phil. Trans., vol. 62, p. 447. T Keill’s Anat., p. 64. ft Anat., p. 164. § Keill, (from Malpighius,) p. 63.VESSELS OF ANIMALS. 121 nishes another observation. Whenever either smaller tubes are inserted into larger tubes, or tubes into vessels and cavi- ties, such receiving tubes, vessels, or cavities being subject to muscular constriction, we always find a contrivance to prevent regurgitation. In some cases valves are used; in other cases, among which is that now before us, a different expedient is resorted to, which may be thus described: the gall-duct enters the duodenum obliquely ; after it has pierced the first coat, it runs near two finger’s breadth between the coats before it opens into the cavity of the intestine.* The same contrivance is used in another part, where there is exactly the same occasion for it, namely, in the insertion of the ureters in the bladder. These enter the bladder near its neck, running for the space of an inch between its coats.t Jt is, in both cases, sufficiently evident that this structure has a necessary mechanical tendency to resist regurgitation ; for whatever force acts in such a direction as to urge the fluid back into the orifices of the tubes, must, at the same time, stretch the coats of the vessels, and thereby compress that part of the tube which is included between them. VY. Among the vessels of the human body, the pipe which conveys the saliva from the place where it is made to the place where it is wanted, deserves to be reckoned among the most intelligible pieces of mechanism with which we are acquainted. The saliva, we all know, is used in the mouth; but much of it is produced on the outside of the cheek by the parotid gland, which hes between the ear and the angle of the lower jaw. In order to carry the secreted juice to its destination, there is laid from the gland on the outside a pipe about the thickness of a wheat straw, and about three finger’s breadth in length, which, after riding over the masseter muscle, bores for itself a hole through the very middle of the cheek, enters by that hole, which is a complete perforation of the buccinator muscle, into the mouth, and there discharges its fluid very copiously. * Keill’s Anat., p. 62. Tt Ches. Anat., p. 260. Nat, Theol. : ee b pe + pl Ce RSSRESERTS FETS S Sea See POSTS eee ee ye ere ee ee we Ne Te a es St ae at seccee ete apen tea Se hed pee y pee re ee ee ee ee eeereer. tee ere NATURAL THHROLOGY. 122 VI. Another exquisite structure, differing, indeed, from the four preceding instances, in that it does not relate to the conveyance of fluids, but still belonging, like these, to the class of pipes or conduits of the body, is seen in the laryna. We all know that there go down the throat two pipes, one leading to the stomach, the other to the lungs—the one be- ing the passage for the food, the other for the breath and voice: we know also, that both these passages open into the bottom of the mouth—the gullet, necessarily, for the con- veyance of food, and the windpipe, for speech and the mod- ulation of sound, not much less so: therefore the difficulty was, the passages being so contiguous, to prevent the food, especially the liquids, which we swallow into the stomach, from entering the windpipe, that is, the road to the lungs— the consequence of which error, when it does happen, is perceived by the convulsive throes that are instantly pro- duced. This business, which is very mice, is managed in this manner. The gullet, the passage for food, opens into the mouth hke the cone or upper part of a funnel, the capac- ity of which forms indeed the bottom of the mouth. Into the side of this funnel, at the part which lies the lowest, enters the windpipe by a chink or slit, with a lid or flap like a little tongue, accurately fitted to the orifice. The solids or liquids which we swallow pass over this lid or flap as they descend by the funnel into the gullet. Both the weight. of the food and the action of the muscles concerned in swal- lowing contribute to keep the lid close down upon the aper- ture while any thing is passing; whereas, by means of its natural cartilaginous spring, it raises itself a little as soon as the food is passed, thereby allowing a free inlet and outlet for the respiration of air by the lungs. Such is its struc- ture ; and we may here remark the almost complete success of the expedient, namely, how seldom it fails of its purpose compared with the number of instances in which it fulfils it. Reflect how frequently we swallow, how constantly we breathe. In a city feast, for example, what deglutition, whatVESSELS OF ANIMALS. 123 5 fet anhelation! yet does this little cartilage, the epiglottis, so effectually interpose its office, so securely guard the entrance of the windpipe, that while morsel after morsel, draught after draught, are coursing one another over it, an accident of a crumb or a drop slipping into this passage—which nev- ertheless must be opened for the breath every second of time—excites in the whole company not only alarm by its danger, but surprise by its novelty. Not two guests are choked in a century. There is no room for pretending that the action of the parts may have gradually formed the epiglottis: I do not mean in the same individual, but in a succession of genera- tions. Not only the action of the parts has no such tenden- cy, but the animal could not live, nor consequently the parts act, either without it or with it in a half:formed state. The species was not to wait for the gradual formation or expan- sion of a part which was from the first necessary to the life of the individual. Not only is the larynx curious, but the whole windpipe possesses a structure adapted to its peculiar office. It is made up—as any one may perceive by putting his fingers to his throat—of stout cartilaginous ringlets, placed at small and equal distances from one another. Now this is not the case with any other of the numerous conduits of the body. The use of these cartilages is to keep the passage for the air constantly open, which they do mechanically. A pipe with soft membranous coats, lable to collapse and close when empty, would not have answered here ; although this be the general vascular structure, and a structure which serves very well for those tubes which are kept in a-state of per- petual distention by the fluid they enclose, or which afford a passage to solid and protruding substances. Nevertheless—which is another particularity well wor- thy of notice—these rings are not complete, that is, are not cartilaginous and stiff all round; but their hinder part, which is contiguous to the gullet, is membranous and soft, PSS ORR AR ELS AS RMSE Poe er ee ee eae | ee ene pees a ew ee ee ee eee gs to ee ee Torer eee te et ere eei tere es 124 NABURAL THEOLOGY. pen easily yielding to the distentions of that organ occasioned by e ; f © 5 ne ~ a “ AxTA the descent of solid food. The same rings are also bevelled off at the upper and lower edges, the better to close upon one another when the trachea is compressed or shortened. oe ee eS ae The constitution of the trachea may suggest likewise cal another reflection. The membrane which lines its inside is ! perhaps the most sensible, irritable membrane of the body. It rejects the touch of a crumb of bread, or a drop of water, with a spasm which convulses the whole frame ; yet, left to itself and its proper office, the intromission of air alone, nothing can be so quiet. It does not even make itself felt ; a man does not know that he has a trachea. This capacity of perceiving with such acuteness, this impatience of offence, yet perfect rest and ease when let alone, are properties, one would have thought, not likely to reside in the same sub- ject. It is to the junction, however, of these almost incon- sistent qualities, in this, as well as in some other delicate parts of the body, that we owe our safety and our comfort— our safety to their sensibility, our comfort to their repose. The larynx, or rather the whole windpipe taken togeth- er—for the larynx is only the upper part of the windpipe— besides its other uses, is also a musical instrument, that is to say, it is mechanism expressly adapted to the modulation of sound ; for it has been found upon trial, that by relaxine or tightenmg the tendinous bands at the extremity of the windpipe, and blowing in at the other end, all the cries and notes might be produced of which the living animal was capable. It can be sounded just as a pipe or flute is sounded. Birds, says Bonnet, have at the lower end of the wind- pipe a conformation like the reed of a hautboy, for the mod- ulation of their notes. A tuneful bird is a ventriloquist The seat of the song is in the breast. The use of the lungs iz the system has been said to be obscure ; one use, however, is plain, though in some sense external to the system, and that is, the formation, in con-VESSELS OF ANIMALS. 125 ~~ junction with the larynx, of voice and speech. They are, to animal utterance, what the bellows are to the organ. For the sake of method, we have considered animal bodies under three divisions—their bones, their muscles, and their vessels; and we have stated our observations upon these parts separately. But this is to diminish the strength of the argument. The wisdom of the Creator is seen, not in their separate but their collective action—in their mutual subserviency and dependence—in their contributing together to one eflect and one use. It has been said, that a man can- not lift his hand to his head without finding enough to con- vince him of the existence of a God. And it is well said ; for he has only to reflect, familiar as this action is, and simple as it seems to be, how many things are requisite for the performing of it—how many things which we under- stand, to say nothing of many more, probably, which we do not: namely, first, a long, hard, strong cylinder, in order to give to the arm its firmness and tension ; but which, being rigid, and in its substance inflexible, can only turn upon joints: secondly, therefore, joints for this purpose, one at the shoulder to raise the arm, another at the elbow to bend it; these joints continually fed with a soft mucilage to make the parts slp easily upon one another, and holden together by strong braces to keep them in their position : then, third- ly, strings and wires, that is; muscles and tendons, artifi- cially inserted, for the purpose of drawing the bones in the directions in which the joints allow them to move. Hith- erto we seem to understand the mechanism pretty well ; and understanding this, we possess enough for our conclu- sion. Nevertheless, we have hitherto only a machine stand- ing still—a dead organization—an apparatus. To put the system in a state of activity, to set it at work, a further pro- vision is necessary, namely, a communication with the brain by means of nerves. We know the existence of this com- munication, because we can see the communicating threads, t+ pl egidce page tase TPS See es ee ee ee ee tr cae ee ee re RE HS are ee! Pee [Hewat ete Gl She Harnten meee Sad He Sos abetas ees ai Saieee see ee ee 3 Sea ed Ea peck ee eT Sa: 126 NATURAL THEOLOGY. and can trace them to the brain ; its necessity we also know, because if the thread be cut, if the communication be inter- cepted, the muscle becomes paralytic ; but beyond this we know little, the organization being too minute and subtile for our inspection. To what has been enumerated, as officiating in the single act of a man’s raising his hand to his head, must be added likewise all that is necessary and all that contributes to the erowth, nourishment, and sustentation of the limb, the repair of its waste, the preservation of its health: such as the cir- culation of the blood through every part of it; its lymph atics, exhalents, absorbents; its excretions and integuments. All these share in the result—join in the effect; and how all these, or any of them, come together without a designing, disposing intelligence, it is impossible to conceive.THE GENERAL STRUCTURI CHAP DH R Ok OF THE ANIMAL SPRUGTURE REGAHDED 59 A MASS. CONTEMPLATING ‘an animal body in its collective ca- pacity, we cannot forget to notice what a number of instru- ments are brought together, and often within how small a compass. It is a cluster of contrivances. In a canary-bird, for instance, and in the sinele ounce of matter which com- poses his body—t ut ee seems To be all employed have instruments for eating, for digesting, for nourishment, for breathing, for generation, for running, for flying, for see- ing, for hearing, for smelling: each appropriate—each en- tirely different from all the rest. The human or indeed the animal frame, considered as a mass or assemblage, exhibits in its composition three prop- erties, which have long struck my mind as indubitable evi- dences not only of design, but of a great deal of attention and accuracy in prosecuting the design. Lb ‘Dhie first is, the exact correspondency of the two sides of the same animal: the right hand answering to the left, lee to leg, eye to eye, one side of the countenance to the other; and with a precision, to imitate which in any toler- able degree, forms one of the difficulties of statuary, and requires, on the part of the artist, a constant attention to this property of his work distinct from every other It is the most difficult thine that can be t ) Ser a wig made even; yet how seldom is the face awry. And what eare is taken that it should not be so, the anatomy of its bones demonstrates. The upper part of the face is composed of thirteen bones, six on each side, answering each to each, and the thirteenth, without a fellow, in the middle. The lower part of the face is m lke manner composed of six bones, three on each side, respectively corresponding, and the lower jaw in the centre. In building an arch, could eres ete! Pewee sae e ge TS FSF Pes ee re ee Ser cs ee ioe oY Sy ee Se ee ee ee ee ne ee ee oe Pe ee oe eee ene ee ee oa eS STE Pe eS TS ee ey Se ee See ey ee a ee eeWetted Fase dase wee bicsS rs MNS Ss ES ee os ee Feet Sie ee ree eo ee oe 128 Meko Ah THEOLSGY. more be done in order to make the curve trwe, that is, the parts equidistant from the middle, alike in figure and po- sition ? The exact resemblance of the eyes, considering how com- pounded this organ is in its structure, how various and how delicate are the shades of color with which its iris is tinged ; how differently, as to effect upon appearance, the eye may be mounted in its socket, and how differently m different heads eyes actually are set—is a property of animal bodies much to be admired. Of ten thousand eyes, I do not know that it would be possible to match one, except with its own fellow ; or to distribute them into suitable pairs by any other selection than that which obtains. This regularity of the animal structure is rendered more remarkable by the three following considerations : 1. The limbs, separately taken, have not this correlation of parts, but the contrary of it. A knife drawn down the chine cuts the human body into two parts, externally equal and alike ; you cannot draw a straight line which will divide a hand, a foot, the leg, the thigh, the cheek, the eye, the ear, into two parts equal and alike. Those parts which are placed upon the middle or partition line of the body, or which traverse that lne—as the nose, the tongue, and the lips—may be so divided, or more properly speaking, are double organs; but other parts cannot. This shows that the correspondency which we have been describing does not arise by any necessity in the nature of the subject ; for, if necessary, it would be universal; whereas it is observed only in the system or assemblage. It is not true of the sep- arate parts: that is to say, 1t 1s found where it conduces to beauty or utility; it is not found where it would subsist at the expense of both. The two wings of a bird always cor- respond ; the two sides of a feather frequently do not. In centipedes, millepedes, and the whole tribe of insects, no two legs on the same side are alike; yet there is the most exact parity between the legs opposite to one another.THE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 129 ~ 2. The next circumstance to be remarked is, that while the cavities of the body are so configurated as externally to exhibit the most exact correspondency of the opposite sides, the contents of these cavities have no such correspondency. A line drawn down the middle of the breast divides the thorax into two sides exactly similar; yet these two sides enclose very different contents. The heart lies on the left side, a lobe of the lungs on the right ; balancing each other neither in size nor shape. The same thing holds of the abdomen. The liver lies on the right side, without any similar viscus opposed to it on the left. The spleen indeed is situated over against the liver; but agreeing with the liver neither in bulk nor form. There is no equipollency between these. The stomach is a vessel both irregular in its shape and oblique in its position. The foldings and doublings ofthe intestines do not present a parity of sides. Yet that symmetry which depends upon the correlation of the sides is externally preserved throughout the whole trunk, and is the more remarkable in the lower parts of it, as the integuments are soft, and the shape, consequently, 1s not, as the thorax is, by its ribs, reduced by natural stays. -It is evident, therefore, that the external proportion does not arise from any equality in the shape or pressure of the internal contents. What isit, indeed, but a correction of inequalities ; an adjustment, by mutual compensation, of anomalous forms into a regular congeries; the effect, m a word, of artful, and if we might be permitted so to speak, of studied collo- cation ? 3. Similar also to this is the third observation: that an internal inequality in the feeding vessel is so managed as to produce no inequality of parts which were intended to cor- respond. The right arm answers accurately to the left, both in size and shape; but the arterial branches which supply the two arms do not go off from their trunk in a pair, in the same manner, at the same place, or at the same angle. Under which want of similitude, it is very difficult to con- 6% epee ee ee ee ee ON ee ee eeWt, Siar Tesco res eo ee ee ad Searg # 130 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ceive how the same quantity of blood should be pushed through each artery ; yet the result is right : the two limbs which are nourished by them perceive no difference of sup- ply—no effects of excess or deficiency. Concerning the difference of manner in which the sub- clavian and carotid arteries, upon the diflerent sides of the body, separate themselves from the aorta, Cheselden seems to have thought, that the advantage which the left gain by going off at an angle much more acute than the right, is made up to the right by their going off together m one branch.* It is very possible that this may be the compen- sating contrivance ; and if it be so, how curious—how hy- drostatical ! Il. Another perfection of the animal mass is the pack- age. 1 know nothing which is so surprising. Examine the contents of the trunk of any large animal. Take notice how soft, how tender, how intricate they are ; how constant- ly in action, how necessary to life! Reflect upon the dan- ger of any injury to their substance, any derangement to their position, any obstruction to their office. Observe the heart pumping at the centre, at the rate of eighty strokes in a minute; one set of pipes carrying the stream away from it, another set bringing, in its course, the fluid back to it again ; the lungs performing their elaborate office, namely, distending and contracting their many thousand vesicles by a reciprocation which cannot cease for a mmute; the stom- ach exercising its powerful chemistry; the bowels silently propelling the changed aliment—collecting from it, as it proceeds, and transmitting to the blood an incessant supply of prepared and assimilated nourishment; that blood pur- suing its course; the liver, the kidneys, the pancreas, the parotid, with many other known and distinguishable glands, drawing off from it, all the while, their proper secretions. These several operations, together with others more subtile but less capable of being investigated, are going on within * Ches. Anat., p. 184, ed. 7.THE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 131 us at one and the same time. Think of this; and then ob- serve how the body itself, the case which holds this machine- ry, is rolled, and jolted, and tossed about, the mechanism remaining unhurt, and with very little molestation even of its nicest motions. Observe a rope-dancer, a tumbler, or a monkey—the sudden inversions and contortions which the internal parts sustain by the postures into which their bodies are thrown ; or rather observe the shocks which these parts, even in ordinary subjects, sometimes receive from falls and bruises, or by abrupt jerks and twists, without sensible or With soon recovered damage. Observe this, and then reflect how firmly every part must be secured, how carefully sur- rounded, how well tied down and packed together. This property of animal bodies has never, I think, been considered under a distinct head, or so fully as it deserves. I may be allowed therefore, in order to verify my~observa- tion concerning it, to set forth a short anatomical detail, though it oblige me to use more technical language than ] should wish to introduce into a work of this kind. 1. The heart f the centre of life— is placed between two soft lobes of the lungs; is tzed to such eare is taken o the mediastinum and to the pericardium; which pericardi- um is not only itself an exceedingly strong membrane, but adheres firmly to the duplicature of the mediastinum, and by its point, to the middle tendon of the diaphragm. The heart is also swstazned in its place by the great bloodvessels which issue from it.* 2. The lungs are tied to the sternum by the mediasti- num before ; to the vertebre, by the pleura behind. It seems indeed to be the very use of the mediastinum—which is a membrane that goes straight through the middle of the tho- rax, fromm the breast to the back—to keep the contents of the thorax in their places; in particular to hinder one lobe of the lungs from incommoding another, or the parts of the lungs from pressing upon each other when we lie on one side.f ¥ Keill’s Anat., p. 107, ed. 3. 1 Ib., peso. ode, a < ee +>. wero tees THSSeeSseR Se TeF is BS OBS FS ee ee ee ee oe oe ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee oe ee eee ot tee Be UR Ba Se er gee ee ee Spat SCeLAHEGESSC SOLER SSCee Pers FPA eetebs EPS SS Sak tee ee ee Se ee Ee 132 NATURAL THEOLOGY. 3. The liver is fastened in the body by two ligaments : the first, which is large and strong, comes from the covermg of the diaphragm, and penetrates the substance of the liver ; the second is the umbilical vein, which, after birth, degene- rates into a ligament. The first, Which is the principal, fixes the liver in its situation while the body holds an erect posture ; the second prevents it from pressing upon the dia- phragm when we lie down; and both together slag or sus- pend the liver when we he upon our backs, so that it may not compress or obstruct the ascending vena cava,* to which belongs the important office of returning the blood from the body to the heart. 4. The bladder is tied to the navel by the urachus, transformed into a ligament: thus, what was a passage for urine to the fetus, becomes, after birth, a support or stay to the bladder. The peritoneum also keeps the viscera from confounding themselves with, or pressmg irregularly upon the bladder; for the kidneys and bladder are contained in a distinct duplicature of that membrane, being thereby parti- tioned off from the other contents of the abdomen. 5. The kzdneys are lodged in a bed of fat. 6. The pancreas, or sweetbread, is strongly tied to the peritoneum, which is the great wrapping-sheet that encloses all the bowels contained in the lower belly.+ 7. The spleen also is confined to its place by an adhesion to the peritoneum and diaphragm, and by a connection with the omentum.} It is possible, in my opinion, that the spleen may be merely a stuffing, a soft cushion to fill up a vacancy or hollow, which, unless occupied, would leave the package loose and unsteady ; for, supposing that it answers no other purpose than this, it must be vascular, and admit of a cir- culation through it, in order to be kept alive, or be a part of a living body. 8. The omentum, epiploon, or caul, is an apron tucked * Ches. Anat., p. 162. T Keill’s Anat., p. 57 $ Ches. Anat., p. 167.THE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 133 up, or doubling upon itself, at its lowest part. The upper edge is tied to the bottom of the stomach, to the spleen, as has already been observed, and to part of the duodenum. The reflected edge also, after forming the doubling, comes up behind the front flap, and is tied to the colon and ad- joing viscera.* 9. The septa of the brain probably prevent one part of the organ from pressing with too great a weight upon an- other part. The processes of the dura mater divide the cavity of the skull, like so many inner partition walls, and thereby confine each hemisphere and lobe of the brain to the chamber which is assigned to it, without its being liable to rest upon or intermix with the neighboring parts. The great art and caution of packing is to prevent one thing hurting another. This, in the head, the chest, and the ab- domen of an animal body is, among other methods, provided for by membranous partitions and wrappings, which keep the parts separate. The above may serve as a short account of the manner in which the principal viscera are sustained in their places. But of the provisions for this purpose, by far, in my opinion, the most curious, and where also such a provision was most wanted, is in the guts. It is pretty evident that a long narrow tube—in man, about five times the length of the body—laid from side to side in folds upon one another, wind- ing in oblique and circuitous directions, composed also of a soft and yielding substance, must, without some extraordi- nary precaution for its safety, be continually displaced by the various, sudden, and abrupt motions of the body which contains it. I should expect that, if not bruised or wound- ed by every fall, or leap, or twist, it would be entangled, or be involved with itself; or, at the least, slipped and shaken out of the order in which it is disposed, and which order is necessary to be preserved for the carrying on of the impor- tant functions which it has to execute in the animal econo- * Ches. Anat., p. 167. YAS +S MSs Gens se He Z Re Pe a ee eee se ee te Se ot ek ee ee ee ee ee ee ee oe ST ee ee ee er a ee ee osSE SH 3a Hay oS ae ee ee ee rs 5 he eed Set sed iveregeoace= er 134 NATURAL THEOLOGY. my. Let us see, therefore, how a danger so serious, and yet so natural to the length, narrowness, and tubular form of the part, is provided against. The expedient is admirable, and it is this. The intestinal canal, throughout its whole pro- cess, is knit to the edge of a broad fat membrane called the mesentery. It forms the margin of this mesentery, being stitched and fastened to it like the edging of a ruffle; bemg four times as long as the mesentery itself, it is what a seam- stress would call “‘ puckered or gathered on’ to it. This is the nature of the connection of the gut with the mesentery ; and being thus joined to, or rather made a part of the mes- entery, it is folded and wrapped up together with it. Now the mesentery having a considerable dimension in breadth, being in its substance withal both thick and suety, is capa- ble of a close and safe folding, in comparison of what the g intestinal tube would admit of, ifit had remained loose. The mesentery likewise not only keeps the intestinal canal in its proper place and position under all the turns and windings of its course, but sustains the numberless small vessels, the arteries, the veins, the lympheducts, and above all, the lac- teals, which lead from or to almost every point of its coats and cavity. This membrane, which appears to be the great support and security of the alimentary apparatus, is itself strongly tied to the first three vertebra of the loins.* Ill. A third general property of animal forms is beaw- ty. 1do not mean relative beauty, or -that of one indi- vidual above another of the same species, or of one species compared with another species; but I mean, generally, the provision which is made in the body of almost every animal to adapt its appearance to the perception of the ani- mals with which it converses. In our own species, for ex- ample, only consider what the parts and materials are of which the fairest body is composed ; and no further observa- tion will be necessary to show how well these things are wrapped up, so as to form a mass which shall be capable of * Keill’s Anatomy, p. 45.THE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 135 symmetry in its proportion, and of beauty in its aspect; how the bones are covered, the bowels concealed, the rough- nesses of the muscle smoothed and softened ; and how over the whole is drawn an integument which converts the dis- gusting materials of a dissecting-room into an object of at- traction to the sight, or one upon which it rests at least with ease and satisfaction. Much of this effect is to be attributed to the intervention of the cellular or adipose membrane, which lies immediately under the skin; is a kind of lining to it; is moist; soft, slippery, and compressi- ble ; everywhere filling up the interstices of the muscles, and forming thereby their roundness and flowing line, as well as the evenness and polish of the whole surface. All which seems to be a strong indication of design, and of a design studiously directed to this purpose. And it be- ing once allowed that such a purpose existed with respect to any of the productions of nature, we may refer, with a considerable degree of probability, other particulars to the same intention ; such as the tints of flowers, the plumage of birds, the furs of beasts, the bright scales of fishes, the paint- ed wings of butterflies and beetles, the rich colors and spot- ted lustre of many tribes of insects. There are parts also of animals ornamental, and the properties by which they are so, not subservient, that we know of, to any other purpose. The zrzdes of most animals are very beautiful, without conducing at all, by their beau- ty, to the perfection of vision; and nature could in no part have employed her pencil to so much advantage, because no part presents itself so conspicuously to the observer, or communicates so great an effect to the whole aspect. In plants, especially in the flowers of plants, the princi- ple of beauty holds a still more considerable place in their composition—is still more confessed than in animals. Why, for one instance out of a thousand, does the corolla of the tulip, when advanced to its size and maturity, change its color? The purposes, so far as we can see, of vegetable Pee _ +2 i ee Peer et Peet eee ee ee ee ee ee ek eee ie ee ere eee ee Se ee Pere Tey ete el ee Pe ere ee eee Se eg re Pe ee ee es eeeroo. pee o eee ee eS ed ee ee a oe 136 NATURAL THEOLOGY. nutrition might have been carried on as well by its continu- ing green. Or, if this could not be, consistently with the progress of vegetable life, why break into such a variety of colors? This is no proper eflect of age, or of declension in the ascent of the sap; for that, hke the autumnal tints, would have produced one color on one leaf, with marks of fading and withering. It seems a lame account to call it, as it has been called, a disease of the plant. Is it not more probable that this property, which is independent, as it should seem, of the wants and utilities of the plant, was calculated for beauty, intended for display ? A ground, I know, of objection has been taken against the whole topic of argument, namely, that there is no such thing as beauty at all: in other words, that whatever is useful and familiar comes of course to be thought beautiful ; and that things appear to be so, only by their alliance with these qualities. Our idea of beauty is capable of being in so great a degree modified by habit, by fashion, by the expe- rience of advantage or pleasure, and by associations arising out of that experience, that a question has been made wheth- er it be not altogether generated by these causes, or would have any proper existence without them. It seems, how- ever, a carrying of the conclusion too far, to deny the exist- ence of the principle, namely, a native capacity of perceiving beauty, on account of an influence, or of varieties proceed- ing from that influence, to which it is subject, seeing that principles the most acknowledged are liable to be affected in the same manner. I should rather argue thus: The ques- tion respects objects of sight. Now every other sense has its distinction of agreeable and disagreeable. Some tastes offend the palate, others gratify it. In brutes and insects, this distinction is stronger and more regular than in man. Every horse, ox, sheep, swine, when at liberty to choose, and when in a natural state, that is, when not vitiated by habits forced upon it, eats and rejects the same plants. Many insects which feed upon particular plants, will ratherTHE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 137 die than change their appropriate leaf. All this looks like a determination in the sense itself to particular tastes. In like manner, smells affect the nose with sensations pleasur- able or diseusting. Some sounds, or compositions of sound, delight the ear ; others torture it. Habit can do much in all these cases—and it is well for us that it can, for it is this power which reconciles us to many necessities; but has the distinction, in the mean time, of agreeable and disagreeable no foundation in the sense itself? What is true of the other senses is most probably true of the eye—the analogy is irre- sistible—namely, that there belongs to it an original consti- tution, fitted to receive pleasure from some impressions, and pain from others. I do not, however, know that the arrument which alleges beauty as a final cause rests upon this concession. We pos- sess a sense of beauty, however we come by it. It im fact exists. Things are not indifferent to this sense; all objects do not suit it: many, which we see, are agreeable to it ; many others disagreeable. It is certainly not the effect of habit upon the particular object, because the most agreeable objects are often the most rare; many which are very com- mon, continue to be offensive. If they be made supportable by habit, it is all which habit can do; they never become agreeable. If this sense, therefore, be acquired, it is a result— the produce of numerous and complicated actions of external objects upon the senses, and of the mind upon its sensations. With this reszlt there must be a certain congruity, to enable any particular object to please: and that congruity, we con- tend, is consulted in the aspect which is given to animal and vegetable bodies. IV. The skin and covering of animals is that upon which their appearance chiefly depends ; and it is that part which, perhaps, in all animals, is most decorated, and most free from impurities. But were beauty or agreeableness of aspect entirely out of the question, there is another purpose answered by this integument, and by the collocation of the rs Leer. Ss +l eps se oe gs lees F 22> ¥ ea pe ee Ce eee ee ee ee ee fe ee ee eeES Lerten: ree ee er ers PRN eS ee ede pots tke be do F 8 NATURAL THEOROGY. parts of the body beneath it, which is of still greater im- portance; and that purpose is concealment. Were it pos- sible to view through the skin the mechanism of our bodies, the sight would frighten us out of our wits. ‘“ Durst we make a single movement,” asks a lively French writer, “or stir a step from the place we were in, if we saw our blood circulating, the tendons pulling, the lungs blowing, the humors filtrating, and all the incomprehensible assemblage of fibres, tubes, pumps, valves, currents, pivots, which sus- tain an existence at once so frail and so presumptuous 2” VY. Of animal bodies, considered as masses, there is an- other property more curious than it is generally thought to be, which is the faculty of standing ; and it is more re- markable in two-legged animals than in quadrupeds, and most of all, as being the tallest and resting upon the smallest base, im man. There is more, I think, in the matter than we are aware of. The statue of a man placed loosely upon a pedestal, would not be secure of standing half an hour. You are obliged to fix its feet to the block by bolts and sol- der, or the first shake, the first gust of wind, is sure to throw it down. Yet this statue shall express all the mechan- ical proportions of a living model. It is not therefore the mere figure, or merely placing the centre of gravity within the base, that is sufficient. Hither the law of gravitation is suspended in favor of living substances, or something more is done for them, in order to enable them to uphold their posture. ‘There is no reason whatever to doubt, but that their parts descend by gravitation in the same manner as those of dead matter. The gift therefore appears to me to consist in a faculty of perpetually shifting the centre of grav- ity, by a set of obscure, indeed, but of quick-balancing ac- tions, so as to keep the line of direction, which is a line drawn from that centre to the ground, within its prescribed limits. Of these actions it may be observed, first, that they in part constitute what we call strength. The dead body dropsTHE GENERAL STRUCTURE. 139 down. The mere adjustment therefore of weight and press- ure, which may be the same the moment after death as the moment before, does not support the column. In cases also of extreme weakness, the patient cannot stand upright. Secondly, that these actions are only in a small degree vol- untary. A man is seldom conscious of his voluntary powers in keeping himself upon his legs. A child learning to walk is the greatest posture-master in the world; but art, if it may be so called, sinks into habit, and he is soon able to poise himself in a great variety of attitudes, without being sensible either of caution or effort. But still there must be a an aptitude of parts, upon which habit can thus attach previous capacity of motions which the animal is thus taught to exercise; and the facility with which this exercise is acquired, forms one object of our admiration. What parts are principally employed, or in what manner each contributes to its office, is, as has already been confessed, difficult to explain. Perhaps the obscure motion of the bones of the feet may have their share in this effect. They are put in action by every slip or vacillation of the body, and seem to assist in restoring its balance. Certain it is, that this circumstance in the structure of the foot, namely, its bemg composed of many small bones, applied to and articulating with one an- other by diversely shaped surfaces, instead of being made of one piece, like the last of a shoe, is very remarkable. I suppose also, that it would be difficult to stand firmly upon stilts or wooden legs, though their base exactly imita- ted the figure and dimensions of the sole of the foot. The alternation of the joints, the knee-jomt bending backward, the hip-joint forward; the flexibility, m every direction, of the spine, especially in the loins and neck, appear to be of great moment in preserving the equilibrium of the body. With respect to this last circumstance, it is observable that the vertebre are so confined by hgaments as to allow no more slipping upon their bases than what is just sufficient to break the shock which any violent motion may occasion toeS Pe eT ee ee ee eee ee ie aed 140 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the body. A certain degree also of tension of the sinews appears to be essential to an erect posture; for it is by the loss of this that the dead or paralytic body drops down. The whole is a wonderful result of combined powers and of very complicated operations. Indeed, that standing 1s not so simple a business as we imagine it to be, is evident from the strange gesticulations of a drunken man, who has lost the government of the centre of gravity. We have said that this property is the most worthy of observation in the hwman body; but a berd resting upon its perch, or hopping upon a spray, affords no mean speci- men of the same faculty. A chicken runs off as soon as it is hatched from the egg; yet a chicken, considered geometri- cally, and with relation to its centre of gravity, its lie of direction, and its equilibrium, is a very irregular solid. Is this gift, therefore, or instruction? May it not be said to be with great attention that nature has balanced the body upon its pivots ? I observe also im the same dzrd a piece of useful mechan- ism of this kind. In the trussing of a fowl, upon bending the legs and thighs up towards the body, the cook finds that the claws close of their own accord. Now let it be remem- bered, that this is the position of the limbs in which the bird rests upon its perch. And in this position it sleeps in safety ; for the claws do their office in keeping hold of the support, not by any exertion of voluntary power which sleep might suspend, but by the traction of the tendons in consequence of the attitude which the legs and thighs take by the bird sitting down, and to which the mere weight of the body gives the force that is necessary. VI. Regardimg the human body as a mass; regarding the general conformations which obtain in it ; regarding also particular parts in respect to those conformations, we shall be led to observe what I call ‘‘interrupted analogies.” The following are examples of what I mean by these terms; andTHE GENERAL SPRUCTURE. 141 i do not know how such critical deviations can, by any pos- sible hypothesis, be accounted for without design. 1. All the bones of the body are covered with a perios- teum except the teeth, where it ceases; and an enamel of ivory, which saws and files will hardly touch, comes into its place. No one can doubt of the use and propriety of this diflerence—of the ‘“‘ analogy” being thus “ interrupted’’—of the rule which belongs to the conformation of the bones stopping where it does stop ; for, had so exquisitely sensible a membrane as the periosteum invested the teeth as it invests every other bone of the body, their action, necessary expos- ure, and irritation, would have subjected the animal to con- tinual pain. General as it is, it was not the sort of integu- ment which suited the teeth: what they stood in need of was a strong, hard, insensible, defensive coat; and exactly such a covering is given to them in the ivory enamel which adheres to their surface. 2. The scarfskin, which clothes all the rest of the body, gives way, at the extremities of the toes and fingers, to zazls. A man has only to look at his hand, to observe with what nicety and precision that covering, which extends over every other part, is here superseded by a different substance and a different texture. Now, if either the rule had been neces- sary, or the deviation from it accidental, this effect would not be seen. When I speak of the rule being necessary, | mean the formation of the skin upon the surface being pro- duced by a set of causes constituted without design, and act- ing, as all ignorant causes must act, by a general operation. Were this the case, no account could be given of the opera- tion being suspended at the fingers’ ends, or on the back part of the fingers, and not on the fore part. On the other hand, if the deviation were accidental, an error, an anomalism— were it any thing else than settled by intention—we should meet with nails upon other parts of the body; they would be scattered over the surface, hke warts or pimples. 3. All the great cavities of the body are enclosed by mem- LeS gl oq hd ewe ey ee ras 2 ae ee ee Pao. ee ae ee Oe he Ekin Pee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee eeess Sceee ea eee eS sas Sal nee aie Teel, ree ee ee 142 NATURAL THEOLOGY. branes, except the skull. Why should not the brain be con- tent with the same covering as that which serves for the other principal organs of the body? The heart, the lungs, the liver, the stomach, the bowels, have all soft intezuments, and nothing else. The muscular coats are all soft and mem- branous. I can see a reason for this distinction in the final cause, but in no other. The importance of the brain to life extreme tenderness of its substance, make a solid case more which experience proves to be immediate—and the necessary for it than for any other part; and such a case the hardness of the skull supplies. When the smallest por- tion of this natural casket is lost, how carefully, yet how imperfectly, is it replaced by a plate of metal. If an anato- mist should say that this bony protection is not confined to the brain, but is extended along the course of the spine, 1 answer that he adds streneth to the argument. If he re- mark that the chest also is fortified by bones, [ reply that I should have alleged this instance myself, if the ribs had not appeared subservient to the purpose of motion as well as of defence. What distinguishes the skull from every other cav- ity is, that the bony covering completely surrounds its con- tents, and is calculated, not for motion, but solely for defence. Those hollows, likewise, and inequalities which we observe in the inside of the skull, and which exactly fit the folds of the brain, answer the important design of keeping the sub- stance of the brain steady, and of guarding it against con- cussionsCHAPTER COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. x1T COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. WueneEvVeR we find a general plan pursued, yet with such variations in it as are, in each case, required by the particular exigency of the subject to which it is appled, we possess, in such a plan and such adaptation, the strongest evidence that can be afforded of intelligence and design—an evidence which the most completely excludes ey ery other hypothesis. If the general plan proceeded from any fixed necessity in the nature of things, how could it accommodate itself to the various wants and uses which it had to serve under different circumstances and on different occasions? Arkwright’s mill was invented for the spinning of cotton. We see it employed for the spinning of wool, flax, and hemp, with such modifications of the original principle, such variety in the same plan, as the texture of those different materials rendered necessary. Of the machine’s being put together with design, if it were possible to doubt while we saw it only under one mode, and in one form, when we came to observe it in its diflerent applications, with such changes of structure, such additions and supplements, as the special and particular’ use in each case demanded, we could not refuse any longer our assent to the proposition, ‘that intelligence, properly and strictly sq called—including, under that name, foresight, consideration, reference to utility had been em- ployed, as well in the primitive plan as in the several changes : a if and accommodations which it is made to undergo. Very much of this reasoning is applicable to what has been called comparative anatomy. In their general econ- omy, in the outlines of the plan, in the construction as well as offices of their principal parts, there exists between all large terrestrial animals a close resemblance. In all, life is sustained, and the body nourished, by nearly the same appa- 3 PA tect ee ee ee ye et ee ee sae eeoas eeteee trees 3 ESPN Re es SS Ss ee ore te Te Se a did aeee ee See re i144 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ratus. The heart, the lungs, the stomach, the liver, the kidneys, are much alike in all. The same fluid—for no dis- tinction of blood has been observed—circulates through their vessels, and nearly mn the same order. The same cause, therefore, whatever that cause was, has been concerned in the origin, has governed the production of these different animal forms. When we pass on to smaller animals, or to the inhabi- tants of a different element, the resemblance becomes more distant and more obscure ; but still the plan accompanies us. And, what we can never enough commend, and which it 1s our business at present to exemplify, the plan is attend- ed, through all its varieties and deflections, by subserviences to special occasions and utilities. 1. The covering of different animals—though whether I am correct in classing this under their anatomy, I do not know—is the first thing which presents itself to our obser- vation ; and is, in truth, both for its variety and its suitable- ness to their several natures, as much to be admired as any part of their structure. We have bristles, hair, wool, furs, feathers, quills, prickles, scales ; yet in this diversity both of material and form, we cannot change one animal’s coat for another without evidently changing it for the worse ; taking sare, however, to remark, that these coverings are, in many z cases, armor as well as clothing; intended for protection as well as warmth. The hawman animal is the only one which is naked, and the only one which can clothe itself. This is one of the properties which renders him an animal of all climates, and of all seasons. He can adapt the warmth or lightness of his covering to the temperature of his habitation. Had he been born with a fleece upon his back, although he might have been comforted” by its warmth in high latitudes, it would have oppressed him by its weight and heat, as the species spread towards the equator. What art, however, does for men, nature has, in manyCOMPARATIVE ANATOMY. 145 instances, done for those animals which are incapable of art. Their clothing, of its own accord, changes with their neces- sities. This is particularly the case with that large tribe of quadrupeds which are covered with Surs. Every dealer in hare-skins and rabbit-skins knows how much the fur is thick- ened by the approach of winter. It seems to be a part of the same constitution and the same design, that wool, in hot countries, degenerates, as it is called, but in truth—most happily for the animal’s ease—passes into hair; while, on the contrary, that hair, in the dogs of the polar regions, is turned into wool, or something very like it. To which may be referred, what naturalists have remarked, that bears, wolves, foxes, hares, which do not take the water, have the fur much thicker on the back than the belly ; whereas in the beaver it is the thickest upon the belly, as are the feath- ers in water-fowl. We know the final cause of all this, and we know no other. The covering of birds cannot escape the most vulgar observation ; its lightness, its smoothness, its warmth—the disposition of the feathers all inclined backward, the down about their stem, the overlapping of their tips, their diflerent configuration in different parts, not to mention the variety of their colors, constitute a vestment for the body so beau- tiful, and so appropriate to the life which the animal is to lead, as that, I think, we should have had no conception of any thing equally perfect, if we had never seen it, or can now imagine any thing more so. Let us suppose—what is possible only in supposition—a person who had never seen a bird, to be presented with a plucked pheasant, and bid to set his wits to work how to contrive for it a covering which shall unite the qualities of warmth, levity, and least resist- ance to the air, and the highest degree of each; giving it also as much of beauty and ornament as he could afford. He is the person to behold the work of the Deity, in this part of his creation, with the sentiments which are due to it. The commendation which the general aspect of the feath- Nat. Theol, eee oe ee eo ee ee eee rae eee se ap ae ea ee ee es ever e tke ce ee A ee Pe ee eS 5 ; ae et oe Se Coe te ete eee ee ao et ee ee ee ee ee eee ee ee er eeSe ees = ts 146 NATURAL: LTHEOROG . ered world seldom fails of exciting, will be increased by fur- ther examination. It is one of those cases in which the philosopher has more to admire than the common observer. Every feather is a mechanical wonder. If we look at the quill, we find properties not easily brought together—strength and lightness. I know few things more remarkable than the strength and lightness of the very pen with which I am writing. If we cast our eye to the upper part of the stem, we see a material made for the purpose, used in no other class of animals, and in no other part of birds; tough, light, pliant, elastic. The pith also, which feeds the feathers, is, among animal substances, swe generis—neither bone, flesh, membrane, nor tendon.* But the artificial part of a feather is the beard, or, as it is sometimes, I believe, called, the vane. By the beards are meant what are fastened on each side of the stem, and what constitute the breadth of the feather what we usually strip off from one side or both, when we make a pen. The sepa- rate pieces, or lamine, of which the beard is composed, are called threads, sometimes filaments or rays. Now, the first thing which an attentive observer will remark is, how much stronger the beard of the feather shows itself to be when pressed in a direction perpendicular to its plane, than when rubbed, either up or down, in the line of the stem; and he will soon discover the structure which occasions this differ- ence, namely, that the lamine whereof these beards are composed are flat, and placed with their flat sides towards each other; by which means, while they easzly bend for the approaching of each other, as any one may perceive by drawing his finger ever so lehtly upwards, they are much harder to bend out of their plane, which is the direction in which they have to encounter the impulse and pressure of * The quill part of a feather is composed of circular and lJongitu- dinal fibres. In making a pen, you must scrape off the coat of circu- lar fibres, or the quill will split in a ragged, jagged manner, making what boys call caf’s teeth.COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. 147 the air, and in which their strength is wanted and put to the trial. This is one particularity in the structure of a feather; a second is still more extraordinary. Whoever examines a feather cannot help taking notice, that the threads or lami- ne of which we have been speaking, in their natural state unite—that their union is something more than the mere apposition of loose surfaces—that they are not parted asun- that nevertheless there is der without some degree of force no glutinous cohesion between them—that therefore, by some mechanical means or other, they catch or clasp among themselves, thereby giving to the beard or vane its closeness and compactness of texture. Nor is this all: when two lamine which have been separated by accident or force are brought together again, they immediately reclasp ; the con- nection, whatever it was, is perfectly recovered, and the beard of the feather becomes as smooth and firm as if noth- ing had happened to it. Draw your finger down the feather, which is against the grain, and, you break probably the junction of some of the contiguous threads; draw your fin- ger up the feather, and you restore all things to their for- mer state. This is no common contrivance: and now for the mechanism by which it is effected. The threads or lamine above mentioned are zzterlaced with one another ; and the interlacing is performed by means of a vast number of fibres or teeth, which the lamine shoot forth ov each side, and which hook and grapple together. pupil is increased in these animals, so as to enable them to close the aperture entirely, which includes the power of diminishing it in every degree; whereby at all times suchFr Tet es se ef ee + COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. 161 portions, and only such portions of light are admitted, as may be received without injury to the sense. There appears to be also in the figure, and in some properties of the pupil of the eye, an appropriate relation to the wants of different animals. In horses, oxen, goats, and Se Te ey eer Tee: sheep, the pupil of the eye is elliptical—the transverse axis being horizontal; by which structure, although the eye be placed on the side of the head, the anterior elongation of the pupil catches the forward rays, or those which come from objects immediately in front of the animal’s face. ied eee ea tee tae Bie eyes eg 4 i > BY ' § ar ae + i. ‘ H :. ’ | # ey J or 2 * * ri » a . 7 be a oy Ld he “4 >] J fi er) rr X Teter ee Te re A esre oe Spee Te ee pea 3 ee te ee ee oe es eats NATURAL THEOEOGY. CHAP TER sori. PECULIAR ORGANIZATIONS. I seieve that all the instances which I shall collect under this title might, consistently enough with technical language, have been placed under the head of comparative anatonvy. But there appears to me an impropricty in the use which that term has obtained; it being, in some sort, absurd to call that a case of comparative anatomy in which there is nothing to ‘ compare”—in which a conformation is found in one animal which hath nothing properly answering to it in another. Of this kind are the examples which I have to propose in the present chapter; and the reader will see that, though some of them be the strongest, perhaps, he will meet with under any division of our subject, they must necessarily be of an unconnected and miscellaneous nature. To dispose them, however, into some sort of order,-we will notice, first, particularities of structure which belong to quad- rupeds, birds, and fish, as such, or to many of the kinds in- cluded in these classes of animals; and then, such particu- larities as are confined to one or two species. I. Along each side of the neck of large guadrupeds runs a stiff robust cartilage, which butchers call the pax-wax. No person can carve the upper end of a crop of beef without driving his knife against it. It is a tough, strong, tendinous substance, braced from the head to the middle of the back : its office is to assist in supporting the weight of the head. It is a mechanical provision, of which this is the undisputed use ; and it is sufficient, and not more than sufficient for the purpose which it has to execute. The head of an ox or a horse is a heavy weight, acting at the end of a long lever— consequently with a great purchase—and in a direction nearly perpendicular to the joints of the supporting neck. From such a force, so advantageously applied, the bones of ‘PECULIAR ORGANIZATIONS. 163 the neck would be in constant danger of dislocation, if they were not fortified by this strong tape. No such organ is found in the human subject, because. from the erect position of the head—the pressure of it acting nearly in the direction of the spine—the junction of the vertebra appears to be sufficiently secure without it. This ‘autionary expedient, therefore, is limited to quadrupeds: the eare of the Creator is seen where it is wanted. II. The oil with which &zrds preen their feathers, and the organ which supplies it, is a specific provision for the winged creation. On each side of the rump of birds is ob- served a small nipple, yielding upon pressure a butter-like substance, which the bird extracts by pinching the pap with its bill. With this oil or ointment, thus procured, the bird dresses his coat; and repeats the action as often as its own sensations teach it that it is in any part wanted, or as the excretion may be sufficient for the expense. The gland, the pap, the nature and quality of the excreted substance, the manner of obtaining it from its lodgment in the body, the application of it when obtained, form collectively an evi- dence of intention which it is not easy to withstand. Noth- ing similar to it is found in unfeathered animals. What blind conatus of nature should produce it in birds; should not produce it in beasts ? III. The air-bladder also of a fish affords a plain and direct instance, not only of contrivance, but strictly of that species of contrivance which we denominate mechanical. It is a philosophical apparatus in the body of an animal. The principle of the contrivance is clear ; the application of the principle is also clear. The use of the organ to sustain, and, at will, also to elevate the body of the fish in the water, is proved by observing what has been tried, that when the bladder is burst the fish grovels at the bottom; and also, that flounders, soles, skates, which are without the air-blad- der, seldom rise in the water, and that with effort. The manner in which the purpose is attained, and the suitable- ee ee ee ee eee ee ee re eee ee oe ae Pee o eoeee aa oe ee Se as ee Bee Bes Pe a tS ee ee a SERS Sere eas ee ee ee164 NATURAL THEOLOGY. Fe ness of the means to the end, are not difficult to be appre- hended. The rising and sinking of a fish in water, so far as Pores it is independent of the stroke of the fins and tail, can only be regulated by the specific gravity of the body. When the oes bladder contained in the body of a-fish is contracted, which #25 the fish probably possesses a muscular power of doing, the ae bulk of the fish is contracted along with it ; whereby, since | the absolute weight remains the same, the specific gravity, which is the sinking force, is increased, and the fish de- scends: on the contrary, when, m consequence of the relax- ation of the muscles, the elasticity of the enclosed and now compressed air restores the dimensions of the bladder, the tendency downwards becomes proportionably less than it was before, or is turned into a contrary tendency. These are known properties of bodies immersed in a fluid. The enam- elled figures, or little glass bubbles, in a jar of water, are made to rise and fall by the same artifice. A diving-ma- chine might be made to ascend and descend upon the like principle ; namely, by introducing into the inside of it an air- vessel, which by its contraction would diminish, and by its distention enlarge the bulk of the machine itself, and thus render it specifically heavier or specifically lighter than the water which surrounds it. Suppose this to be done, and the artist to solicit a patent for his invention: the inspectors of the model, whatever they might think of the use or value of the contrivance, could by no possibility entertain a question in their minds, whether it were a contrivance or not. No reason has ever been assigned, no reason can be assigned, why the conclusion is not as certain in the fish as it is in the machine—why the argument is not as firm in one case as the other, It would be very worthy of inquiry, if it were possible to discover, by what method an animal which lives constantly im water is able to supply a repository of air. The expedi- ent, whatever it be, forms part, and perhaps the most curi- ous part of the provision. Nothing similar to the air-bladderPECULIAR ORGANIZATIONS. 165 is found in Jand-animals; and a life in the water has no natural tendency to produce a bag of air. Nothing can be further from an acquired organization than this is. These examples mark the attention of the Creator to the three great kingdoms of his animal creation, and to their constitution as such. The example which stands next in point of generality, belonging to a large tribe of animals, or rather to various species of that tribe, is the poisonous tooth of serpents. I. The fang of a viper* isa clear and curious example of mechanical contrivance. It is a perforated tooth, loose at the root; in its quiet state lying down flat upon the jaw, but furnished with a muscle, which, with a jerk, and by the pluck as it were of a string, suddenly erects it. Under the tooth, close to its root, and communicating with the perfora- tion, lies a small bag containme the venom. When the fang is raised, the closing of the jaw presses its root against the bag underneath ; and the force of this compression sends out the fluid with a considerable impetus through the tube in the middle of the tooth. What more unequivecal or effectual apparatus could be devised for the double purpose of at once inflicting the wound and injecting the poison? Yet, though lodged in the mouth, it is so constituted, as, in its inoffensive and quiescent state, not to interfere with the animal’s ordinary office of receiving its food. It has been observed also, that none of the harmless serpents, the black snake, the blind worm, etc., have these fangs, but teeth of an equal size : not movable as this is, but fixed into the jaw. IL. In being the property of several different species, the preceding example is resembled by that which I shall next mention, which is the dag of the opossum.t This is a me- chanical contrivance, most properly so called. The simpli- city of the expedient renders the contrivance more obvious than many others, and by no means less certain. A false skin under the belly of the animal forms a pouch, into which * Plate IV., Fig. 2, and 3. + Plate IV., Fig. 4. FS PFS sesese For? ee ee ea ee ee ee a ee te eee PSE ESE EY Ee ee Ye eee Te eee ees PES Ae eee eee ee ee eeee Se eee Re ee ee ee eee eee ee 166 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the young litter are received at their birth; where they have an easy and constant access to the teats; in which they are transported by the dam from place to place ; where they are at liberty to run in and out; and where they find a refuge from surprise and danger. It is their cradle, their asylum, and the machine for their conveyance. Can the use of this structure be doubted of? “Nor is it a mere doub- ling of the skin; but is a new organ, furnished with bones and muscles of its own. Two bones are placed before the os pubis, and joined to that bone as their base. These sup- port and give a fixture to the muscles which serve to open the bag. To these muscles there are antagonists, which serve in the same manner to shut it; and this office they perform so exactly, that, in the living animal, the opening can scarcely be discerned, except when the sides are forcibly drawn asunder.* Is there any action in this part of the animal, any process arising from that action, by which these members could be formed; any account to be given of the formation, except design ? il. As a particularity, yet appertaining to more species than one, and also as strictly mechanical, we may notice a circumstance in the structure of the claws of certain birds. The middle claw of the heron and cormorant is toothed and notched like a saw. These birds are great fishers, and these notches assist them in holding their slippery prey. The use is evident; but the structure such as cannot at all be ac- counted for by the effort of the animal, or the exercise of the part. Some other fishing birds have these notches in their éills ; and for the same purpose. The gannet, or Soland goose,t has the side of its bill uregularly jagged, that it may hold its prey the faster. Nor can the structure in this, more than in the former case, arise from the manner of employing the part. The smooth surfaces, and soft flesh of fish, were less likely to notch the bills of birds, than the hard bodies upon which many other species feed. * Goldsmith, Nat. Hist., vol. 4, p. 244. ? Plate V.. Fig.PECULIAR ORGANIZATIONS. 167 We now come to particularities strictly so called, as be- ing limited to a single species of animal. Of these, I shall take one from a quadruped, and one from a bird. I. The stomach of the camel is well known to retain large quantities of water, and to retain it unchanged for a considerable length of time. This property qualifies it for living in the desert. Let us see, therefore, what is the internal organization upon which a faculty so rare and so beneficial depends. A number of distinct sacs or bags—in a dromedary thirty of these have been counted—are observed to le between the membranes of the second stomach. and to open into the stomach near the top by small square aper- tures. Through these orifices, after the stomach is full, the annexed bags are filled from it: and the water so deposited is, in the first place, not liable to pass into the imtestines ; in the second place, is kept separate from the solid aliment ; and in the third place, is-out of the reach of the digestive action of the stomach, or of mixture with the gastric juice. It appears probable, or rather certain, that the animal, by the conformation of its muscles, possesses the power of squeezing back this water from the adjacent bags imto the stomach, whenever thirst excites it to put this power in action. Il. The tongue of the woodpecker is one of those singu- larities which nature presents us with when a singular purpose is to be answered. It is a particular instrument for a particular use; and what, except design, ever produces such? The woodpecker lives chiefly upon imsects lodged in the bodies of decayed or decaying trees. For the purpose of boring into the wood, it is furnished with a bill straight, hard, angular, and sharp. When, by means of this piercer, it has reached the cells of the insects, then comes the office of its toneue; which tongue is, first, of such a length that the bird can dart it out three or four inches from-the bill—in in the second place, it is tipped with a stiff, sharp, bony thorn: and, in the third place—which appears to me the this respect differing greatly from every other species of bird ; Z +e" eos SS gi vgds ceed Ge Tses Pees eeSeeF Portes ee ee ee ee Pe eee ee ee ee ee a ee ee ee te168 NATURAL THEOLOGY. most remarkable property of all—this tip is dentated on both sides like the beard of an arrow or the barb of a hook.* The description of the part declares its uses. The bird, having exposed the retreats of the insects by the assistance of its bill, with a motion inconcéivably quick, launches out at them this long tongue, transfixes them upon the barbed needle at the end of it, and thus draws its prey within its mouth. If this be not mechanism, what is? Should it be said, that by continual endeavors to shoot out the tongue to the stretch, the woodpecker species may by degrees have lengthened the organ itself beyond that of other birds, what account can be given of its form, of its tip? how, in partic- ular, did it get its barb, its dentation? These barbs, in my opinion, wherever they occur, are decisive proofs of mechan- ical contrivance. III. I shail ‘add one more example, for the sake of its novelty. It is always an agreeable discovery, when, having remarked in an animal an extraordinary structure, we come at length to find out an unexpected use for it. The follow- ing narrative furnishes an instance of this kind. The baby- roussa, or Indian hog, a species of wild boar, found in the Hast Indies, has two bent teeth, more than half a yard long, growing upwards, and—which is the singularity—from the upper-jaw. These instruments are not wanted for offence : that service being provided for by two tusks issuing from the under-jaw, and resembling those of the common boar: nor does the animal use them for defence. They might seem, therefore, to be both a superfluity and an incumbrance. But observe the event : the animal sleeps standing ; and in order to support its head, hooks its upper tusks upon the branches of trees. * See Plate V., fig. 2 ~ePROSPECTIVE CONTRIVANCES. CHAD PTER. XV. PROSPECTIVE CONTRIVANCES. I can hardly imagine to myself a more distinguishing mark, and consequently a more certain proof of design, than preparation, that is, the providing of things beforehand, which are not to be used until a considerable time after- wards ; for this implies a contemplation of the future, which belongs only to intelligence. Of these prospective contrivances the bodies of animals furnish various examples. . I. The human teeth afford an instance, not only of pro- spective contrivance, but of the completion of the contriv- ance being designedly suspended. They are formed within the gums, and there they stop; the fact being, that their farther advance to maturity would not only be useless to the new-born animal, but extremely in its way ; as it is evident that the act of sucking, by which it is for some time to be nourished, will be performed with more ease both to the nurse and to the infant, while the inside of the mouth and edges of the gums are smooth and soft, than if set with hard- pointed bones. By the time they are wanted the teeth are ready. They have been lodged within the gums for some months past, but detaimed as it were in their sockets, so long as their farther protrusion would interfere with the ofice to which the mouth is destined. Nature, namely, that imtelligence which was employed in creation, looked beyond the first year of the infant’s life; yet, while she was providing for functions which were after that term to be- come necessary, was careful not to ncommode those which preceded them. What renders it more probable that this is the effect of design, is, that the teeth are imperfect, while all other parts of the mouth are perfect. The lips are per- fect, the tongue is perfect ; the cheeks, the jaws, the palate, the pharynx, the larynx, are all perfect : the teeth alone are 5 Nat. Theol. Oo ites e oe es EP eer eee Pre thet Pee, eR Se ee ee ee Se ee aCee ee) eee ee ee 170 NATURAL THEOLOGY. not so. This is the fact with respect to the human mouth: the fact also is, that the parts above enumerated are called mto use from the beginning; whereas the tecth would be only so many obstacles and annoyances if they were there. When a contrary order is necessary, a contrary order pre- vails. In the worm of the beetle, as hatched from the eor co the teeth are the first things which arrive at perfection. The insect begins to gnaw as soon as it escapes from the shell, though its other parts be only gradually advancing to their maturity. What has been observed of the teeth, is true of the horns of@nimals; and for the same reason. The hornof a calf or a lamb does not bud, or at least does not sprout to any con- siderable length, until the animal be capable of browsing upon its pasture, because such a substance upon the fore- head of the young animal would very much incommode the teat of the dam in the office of giving suck. But in the case of the teeth, of the human teeth at least, the prospective contrivance looks still further. A succession of crops 1s provided, and provided from the beginning—a sec- ond tier being originally formed beneath the first, which do not come into use till several years afterwards. And this double or supplementary provision meets a difficulty in the mechanism of the mouth, which would have appeared almost insurmountable. The expansion of the jaw—the conse- quence of the proportionable growth of the animal and of its skull—necessarily separates the teeth of the first set, how- ever compactly disposed, to a-distance from one another, which would be very inconvenient. In due time, therefore, that is, when the jaw has attained a great part of its dimen- sions, a new set of teeth springs up—loosening and pushing out the old ones before them—more exactly fitted to the space which they are to occupy, and rising also in such close ranks as to allow for any extension of line which the subse- quent enlargement of the head may occasion. II. It is not very easy to conceive a more evidently pro-PROSPECTIVE CONTRIVANCES. 171 spective contrivance than that which, in all viviparous ani- mals, is found in the mzlk of the female parent. At the moment the young animal enters the world there is its main- tenance ready for it. The particulars to be remarked in this economy are neither few nor slight. We have, first, the nutritious quality of the fluid, unlike, in this respect, every other excretion of the body; and in which nature hitherto remains unimitated, neither cookery nor chemistry having . been able to make milk out of grass: we have, secondly, the organ for its reception and retention: we have, thirdly, the excretory duct annexed to that organ; and we have, lastly, the determination of the milk to the breast at the particular juncture when it is about to be wanted. We have all these properties in the subject before us; and they are all indica- tions of design. The last circumstance is the strongest of any. IfI had been to guess beforehand, I should have con- jectured, that at the time when there was an extraordinary demand for nourishment in one part of the system, there would be the least likelihood of a redundancy to supply another part. The advanced pregnancy of the female has no intelligible tendency to fill the breasts with milk. The lac- teal system is a constant wonder ; and it adds to other causes of our admiration, that the number of the teats or paps in each species is found to bear a proportion to the number of the young. In the sow, the bitch, the rabbit, the cat, the rat, which have numerous litters, the paps are numerous, and are disposed along the whole length of the belly ; in the cow and mare, they are few. The most simple account of this is to refer it to a designing Creator. But in the argument before us, we are entitled to con- sider not only animal bodies when framed, but the circum- stance under which they are framed; and in this view of the subject, the constitution of many of their parts is most strictly prospective. III. The eve is of no use at the time when it is formed. It is an optical instrument made in a dungeon ; constructed PLE eet ot ce Le see ees ee ee ee ee ee te ee od baa Sa aD UR eRe ae rere ay ee eT ee ee es ee ee ee eeSpee er ee ee ao ea Se ee sete esos Sass et ee ee 172 NATURAL THEOLOGY. for the refraction of light to a focus, and perfect for its pur- pose before a ray of light has had access to it ; geometrically adapted to the properties and action of an element with which it has no communication. It is about indeed to enter into that communication; and tins is precisely the thing which evidences intention. It is providing for the future in the closest sense which can be given to these terms; for . it is providing for a future change, not for the then sub- sisting condition of the animal, not for any gradual progress or advance in that same condition, but for a new state, the consequence of a great and sudden alteration which the animal is to undergo at its birth. Is it to be believed that the eye was formed, or which is the same thing, that the series of causes was fixed by which the eye is form- ed, without a view to this change; without a prospect of that condition, in which its fabric, of no use at present, is about to be of the greatest; without a consideration of the qualities of that element, hitherto entirely excluded, but with which it was hereafter to hold so intimate a rela- tion? A young man makes a pair of spectacles for him- self against he grows old; for which spectacles he has no want or use whatever at the time he makes them. Could this be done without knowing -and considering the defect of vision to which advanced age is subject? Would not the precise suitableness of the instrument to its purpose, of the remedy to the defect, of the convex lens to the flattened eye, establish the certainty of the conclusion, that the case after- wards to arise had been considered beforehand, speculated upon, provided for? all which are exclusively the acts of a reasoning mind. ‘The eye formed in one state, for use only in another state, and in a different state, affords a proof no less clear of destination to a future purpose ; and a proof pro- portionably stronger, as the machinery is more complicated and the adaptation more exact. IV. What has been said of the eye, holds equally true of the lungs. Composed of air-vessels, where there is no air ;PROSPECTIVE CONTRIVANCES. 173 elaborately constructed for the alternate admission and ex- pulsion of an elastic fluid, where no such fluid exists; this great organ, with the whole apparatus belonging to it, lies collapsed in the fetal thorax ; yet in order, and in readiness for action, the first moment that the occasion requires its service. This is having a machine locked up in store for future use, which incontestably proves that the case was expected to occur in which this use might be experienced ; but expectation is the proper act of intelligence. Consider- ing the state in which an animal exists before its birth, I should look for nothing less in its body than a system of lungs. It is like finding a pair of bellows in the bottom of the sea ; of no sort of use in the situation in which they are found ; formed for an action which was impossible to be ex- erted; holding no relation or fitness to the element which surrounds them, but both to another element im another place. . As part and parcel of the same plan, ought to be men- tioned, in speaking of the lungs, the provisionary contrivances of the foramen ovale and ductus arteriosus. In the fetus, pipes are laid for the passage of the blood through the lungs; but until the lungs be inflated by the inspiration of air, that passage is impervious, or in a great degree obstructed. What then is to be done? What would an artist, what would a master do upon the occasion? He would endeavor, most probably, to provide a temporary passage, which might carry on the communication required, until the other was open. Now this is the thing which is actually done in the heart. Instead of the circuitous route through the lungs which the blood afterwards takes before it gets from one auricle of the heart to the other, a portion of the blood passes immediately from the right auricle to the left, through a hole placed in the partition which separates these cavities. This hole anat- omists call the foramen ovale. There is likewise another cross-cut, answering the same purpose, by what is called the ductus arteriosus, lying between the pulmonary artery and eee et Tet eee ee ee ee le ke oe A ee eee a ea te ee ee tee Sjecede fab ded ee ea ee a poe ee a ee ee ee ad FST ep ers ee eTieee Soe eee pa eae ee eae eo eal ete Sot ee 174 NATURA THE Oia y. the aorta. But both expedients are so strictly temporary, that after birth the one passage is closed, and the tube which forms the other shrivelled up into a ligament. If this be not contrivance, what is ? But, forasmuch as the action of the air upon the blood in the lungs appears to be necessary to the perfect concoction of that fluid, that is, to the life and health of the animal otherwise the shortest route might still be the best—how comes it to pass that the fwtws lives and grows and thrives without it? The answer is, that the blood of the fetus is the mother’s; that it has undergone that action in her habit; that one pair of lungs serves for both. When the animals are separated, a new necessity arises; and to meet this ne- cessity as soon as it occurs, an organization is prepared. ° It is ready for its purpose ; it only waits for the atmosphere ; it begins to play the moment the air is admitted to it.RELATIONS. Cin h Ubrwe xv: RELATIONS. WueEn several different parts contribute to one effect, or, which is the same thing, when an eflect is produced by the jot action of diflerent instruments, the fitness of such parts or instruments to one another for the purpose of producing, by their united action, the eflect, is what I call relation ; and wherever this is observed in the works of nature or of man, it appears to me to carry along with it decisive evi- dence of understanding, intention, art. In examining, for instance, the several parts of a zvatch, the spring, the barrel, the chain, the fusee, the balance, the wheels of various sizes, forms, and positions, what is it which would take an observ- er’s attention as most plainly evincing a construction direct- ed by thought, deliberation, and contrivance? It is the suitableness of these parts to one another: first, m the suc- cession and order in which they act; and, secondly, with a view to the effect finally produced. Thus, referring the spring to the wheels, our observer sees in it that which orig- inates and upholds their motion ; in the chain, that which transmits the motion to the fusee ; in the fusee, that which communicates it to the wheels ; in the conical figure of the fusee, if he refer to the sprig, he sees that which corrects the inequality of its force. Referring the wheels to one an- other, he notices, first, their teeth, which would have been without use or meaning if there had been only one wheel, or if the wheels had had no connection between themselves, or common bearing upon some joint effect ; secondly, the cor- respondency of their position, so that the teeth of one wheel catch into the teeth of another; thirdly, the proportion ob- served in the number of teeth in each wheel, which deter- mines the rate of going. Referring the balance to the rest of the works, he saw, when he came to understand its action, Set eghasae ergs tees ee sesese Roe Teyes Fi fee Shee de te be FR Ew See Pe ee er re ee ee a et ee es ee oe ee ee ee ee eo ee eeCare eee a 176 NATURAL THEOLOGY. that which rendered their motions equable. Lastly, in look- ig upon the index and face of the watch, he saw the use and conclusion of the mechanism, namely, marking the suc- cession of minutes and hours; but all depending upon the motions within, all upon the system of intermediate actions between the spring and the pointer. What thus struck his attention in the several parts of the watch, he might proba- bly designate by one general name of “relation ;” and ob- serving with respect to all cases whatever, in which the origin and formation of a thing could be ascertained by evi- dence, that these relations were found in things produced by art and design, and in no other things, he would rightly deem of them as characteristic of such productions. To apply the reasoning here described to the works of nature. The animal economy is full, is made up of these vela- tions. 1. There are, first, what in one form or other belong to all animals, the parts and powers which successively act upon their food. Compare this action with the process of a manufactory. In men and quadrupeds the aliment is first broken and bruised by mechanical instruments of mastica- tion, namely, sharp spikes or hard knobs, pressing against or rubbing upon one another: thus ground and commiunuted, it is carriéd by a pipe into the stomach, where it waits to undergo a great chemical action, which we call digestion ; when digested, it is delivered through an orifice, which opens and shuts, as there is occasion, into the first intestine ; there, after being mixed with certain proper ingredients, poured through a hole in the side of the vessel, it is further dissolv- ed; in this state the milk, chyle, or part which is wanted, and which is suited for animal nourishment, is strained off by the mouths of very small tubes opening into the cavity of the intestines: thus freed from its grosser parts, the perco- lated fluid is carried by a long, winding, but traceable course, into the main stream of the old circulation, which conveys ~ it in its progress to every part of the body. Now I sayRELATIONS. 147 again, compare this with the process of a manufactory—with the making of cider, for example; with the bruising of the apples in the mill, the squeezing of them when so bruised in the press, the fermentation in the vat, the bestowing of the liquor thus fermented in the hogsheads, the drawing off into bottles, the pouring out for use into the glass. Let any one show me any diflerence between these two cases as to the point of contrivance. That which is at present under our consideration, the “relation”’ of the parts successively em- ployed, is not more clear in the last case than in the first. The aptness of the jaws and teeth to prepare the food for the stomach is, at least, as manifest as that of the cider-mill to crush the apples for the press. The concoction of the food in the stomach is as necessary for its future use, as the fer- mentation of the stum in the vat is to the perfection of the liquor. The disposal of the aliment afterwards, the action and change which it undergoes, the route which it is made to take, in order that, and until that, it arrives at its desti- nation, is more complex indeed and intricate, but, in the midst of complication and intricacy, as evident and certain as is the apparatus of cocks, pipes, tunnels, for transferring the cider from one vessel to another; of barrels and bottles for preserving it till fit for use, or of cups and glasses for bringing it when wanted to the lip of the consumer. The character of the machinery is in both cases this—that one part answers to another part, and every part to the final result. This parallel between the alimentary operation and some of the processes of art might be carried further into detail. Spallanzani has remarked* a circumstantial resemblance between the stomachs of gallinaceous fowls and the structure of corn-mills. While the two sides of the gizzard perform the office of the mill-stones, the craw or crop supplies the place of the hopper. When our fowls are abundantly supplied with meat, they * Disc. 1, sec. 34. St Ftaceaagteset} Sel eerie sa pags Tg Fs . SSeeuS iS bese eee kes 23 A eo Se ee a as pa tee eke eer Shee ee ee See ee eee Pe ee ee ee eo te Pe er bert See ye ye ee ee ee ON =f esowey CMe hee fos peat ke ae ea oe ee re ee ern eas are eee Cee eeAZ a ae Nile Ae ie Me a ta ee eS oe ee eS tee eee een Seek ae eee ae 178 NATURAL DTHEBODROGY. soon fill their craw ; but it does not immediately pass thence into the gizzard: it always enters in very small quantities, in proportion to the progress of trituration; in like manner as, in a mill, a receiver is fixed above the two large stones which serve for grinding the corn ; ~which receiver, although the corn be put into it in bushels, allows the grain to dribble only im small quantities into the central hole in the upper mull-stone. But we have not done with the alimentary history. There subsists a general velatzvon between the external or- gans of an animal by which it procures its food, and the internal powers by which it digests it. Birds of prey, by their talons and beaks, are qualified to seize and devour many species both of other birds and of quadrupeds. . The constitution of the stomach agrees exactly with the form of the members. ‘The gastric juice of a bird of prey, of an owl, a falcon, or a kite, acts upon the animal fibre alone ; it will not act upon seeds or grasses at all. On the other hand, the conformation of the mouth of the sheep or the ox is suited for browsing upon herbage. Nothing about these animals is fitted for the pursuit of living prey. Accordingly it has been found, by experiments tried not many years ago, with perforated balls, that the gastric juice of ruminating” animals, such as the sheep and the ox, speedily dissolves vegetables, but makes no impression upon animal bodies. This accordancy is still more particular. The gastric juice even of granivorous birds, will not act upon the grain while whole and entire. In performing the experiment of digest- ing with the gastric juice in vessels, the grain must be erushed and bruised before it be submitted to the menstru- um ; that is to say, must undergo by art, without the body, the preparatory action which the gizzard exerts upon it within the body, or no digestion will take place. So strict, in this case, is the relation between the offices assigned to the digestive organ—between the mechanical operation and the chemical process.RELATIONS. 179 Il; The relation of the kidneys to the bladder, and of the ureters to both, that is, of the secreting organ to the vessel receiving the secreted liquor, and the pipe laid from one to the other for the purpose of conveying it from one to the other, is as manifest as it is among the different vessels em- ployed in a distillery, or in the communications between them. The animal structure, in this case, being simple, and the parts easily separated, it forms an instance of corre- lation whith may be presented by dissection to every eye, or which indeed without dissection is capable of being appre- hended by every understanding. This correlation of instru- ments to one another fixes intention somewhere ; especially when every other solution is negatived by the conformation. If the bladder had been merely an expansion of the ureter, produced by retention of the fluid, there ought to have been a bladder for each ureter. One receptacle fed by two pipes issuing from different sides of the body, yet from both con- veying the same fluid, is not to be accounted for by any such supposition as this. III. Relation of parts to one another accompanies us throughout the whole animal economy. Can any relation be more simple, yet more convincing than this, that the eyes are so placed as to look in the direction in which the legs move and the hands work ? It might have happened very differently if it had been left to chance. There were at least three quarters of the compass out of four to have erred in. Any considerable alteration in the position of the eye or the figure of the joints would have disturbed the line”and de- stroyed the alliance between the sense and the limbs. IV. But relation, perhaps, is never so striking as when it subsists, not between different parts of the same thing, but between different things. The relation between a lock and a key is more obvious than it is between different parts of the lock. A bow was designed for an arrow, and an arrow for a bow; and the design is more evident for their being separate implements. reer ess ene SS OS OS IAS SSA RS SSR See ree ree Te fe +4" Weaes! Er cutee me Po Pee ry Gone erg ye ee eee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee re et ee ee z Ps + oc eo eddse oe gs lo Fs eeee ee es ee ee ee SoD SE cee PMG edisss 180 NATURAL THEOLOGY. Nor do the works of the Deity want this clearest species of relation. The sexes are manifestly made for each other. They form the grand relation of animated nature: univer- sal, organic, mechanical; subsisting, like the clearest rela- tions of art, in different individuals; unequivocal, inexplica- ble without design. So much so, that were every other proof of contrivance in nature dubious or obscure, this alone would be sufficient. The example is complete. Nothing is wanting to the argu- ment. I see no way whatever of getting over it. VY. The teats of animals which give suck bear a relation to the mouth of the suckling progeny, particularly to the lips and tongue. Here also, as before, is a correspondency of parts ; which parts subsist in different individuals. These are general relations, or the relations of parts which are found either in all animals or in large classes and descriptions of animals. Particular relations, or the rela- tions which subsist between the particular configuration of one or more parts of certain species of animals, and the par- ticular configuration of one or more other parts of the same animal which is the sort of relation that is, perhaps, most striking—are such as the following : I. In the swan, the web-foot, the spoon-bill, the long neck, the thick down, the graminivorous stomach, bear all a relation to one another, inasmuch as they all concur in one design, that of supplying the occasions of an aquatic fowl floating upon the surface of shallow pools of water, and seeking its food at the bottom. Begin with any one of these particularities of structure, and observe how the rest follow it. The web-foot qualifies the bird for swimming; the spoon-bill enables it to graze. But how is an animal float- ing upon the surface of pools of water to graze at the bot- tom, except by the mediation of a long neck? A long neck accordingly is given to it.- Again, a warm-blooded animal “Pp which was to pass its life upon water, required a defenceRELATIONS. 181 against the coldness of that element. Such a defence is furnished to the. swan in the muff in which its body is wrapped. But all this outward apparatus would have been in vain if the intestinal system had not been suited to the digestion of vegetable substances. I say suited to the diges- tion of vegetable substances, for it is well known that there are two intestinal systems found in birds: one with a mem- branous stomach and a gastric juice capable of dissolving animal substances alone ; the other with a crop and gizzard calculated for the moistening, bruising, and afterwards di- gesting of vegetable aliment. Or set off with any other distinctive part in the body of the swan ; for instance, with the long neck. The long neck without the web-foot would have been an encumbrance to the bird; yet there is no necessary connection between a long neck and a web-foot. In fact they do not usually go together. How happens it, therefore, that they meet on y when a particular design demands the aid of both ? Il. This mutual relation arising from a subserviency to a common purpose, is very observable also in the parts of a mole. ‘The strong short legs of that animal, the palmated feet armed with sharp nails, the pig-like nose, the teeth, the velvet coat, the small external ear, the sagacious smell, the sunk protected eye, all conduce to the utilities or to the safe- ty of its under-ground life. It 1s a special purpose, specially consulted throughout. The form of the feet fixes the char- acter of the animal. They are so many shovels ; they deter- mune its action to that of rooting in the ground; and every thing about its body agrees with its destination. The eylin- drical figure of the mole, as well as the compactness of its form, arising from the terseness of its limbs, proportionably lessens its labor ; because, according to its bulk, it thereby requires the least possible quantity of earth to be removed for its progress. It has nearly the same structure of the face and jaws as a swine, and the same office for them. The nose is sharp, slender, tendinous, strong, with a pair of nerves ee a ee se Pe ee neo ‘ $ ae eee Sy a eae ae ae BOR ee ee a ee ES eee er ee ee ee ye oe ee ee Te ee ee ee ee eee ad ae ee ee ee eeae ee ee ced ae ee Re eS ee ee ee * es a el a SEER eS, he ee et ks tod eet eo 182 NATURAL THEOLOGY. going down to the end of it. The plush covering which, by the smoothness, closeness, and polish of the short piles that compose it, rejects the adhesion of almost every species of earth, defends the animal from cold and wet, and from the impediment which it would experience by the mould stick- ing to its body. From soils of all kinds the little pioneer comes forth bright and clean. Inhabiting dirt, it is of all animals the neatest. But what I have always most admired in the mole is its eyes. This animal occasionally visiting the surface, and wanting, for its safety and direction, to be informed when it does so, or when it approaches it, a perception of light was necessary. I do not know that the clearness of sight depends at all upon the size of the organ. What is gained by the largeness or prominence of the globe of the eye, is width in the field of vision. Such a capacity would be of no use to an animal which was to seek its food in the dark. The mole did not want to look about it; nor would a large ad- vanced eye have been easily defended from the annoyance to which the life of the animal must constantly expose it. How indeed was the mole, working its way under ground, to guard its eyes at all? In order to meet this difficulty, the eyes are made scarcely larger than the head of a cork- ing-pin ; and these minute globules are sunk so deeply in the skull, and le so sheltered within the velvet of its covering, as that any contraction of what may be called the eye- brows, not only closes up the apertures which lead to the eyes, but presents a cushion, as it were, to any sharp or pro- truding substance which might push against them. This aperture, even in its ordinary state, is like a pin-hole in a piece of velvet, scarcely pervious to loose particles of earth. Observe, then, in this structure, that which we call rela- tion. There is no natural connection between a small sunk eye and a shovel palmated foot. Palmated feet might have been joined with gogele eyes; or small eyes might have been joined with feet of any other form. What was it.RELATIONS. 183 therefore, which brought them together in the mole? That which brought together the barrel, the chain, and the fusee im a watch—design ; and design in both cases inferred from the relation which the parts bear to one another in the pros- ecution of acommon purpose. As has already been observ- ed, there are different ways of stating the relation, according as we set out from a different part. In the instance before us, we may either consider the shape of the feet, as qualify- ing the animal for that mode of life and inhabitation to which the structure of its eyes confines it; or we may con- sider the structure of the eye, as the only one which would have suited with the action to which the feet are adapted. The relation is manifest, whichever of the parts related we place first in the order of our consideration. In a word, the feet of the mole are made for digging; the neck, nose, eyes, ears, and skin, are peculiarly adapted to an under-ground life ; and this is what I call relation. Getaeer es te en Boer eter tt iri ait es gs So ee es ee ee ee a ee Bee ep ee ee Pe ee eee a Pe ee te eee Say ek ep ey is a 5 ‘ <8 4 t, * , J ; FI i + r PyNATURAL THEOLOGY CELA Pal BER vk, COMPENSATION. COMPENSATION is a species of Yelation. It is relation when the defects of one part, or of one organ, are sup- pled by the structure of another part, or of another organ. Thus, I. The short unbending neck of the elephant* is com- pensated by the length and flexibility of his proboscis. He could not have reached the ground without ity Or, Tt at pe supposed that he might have fed upon the fruit, leaves, or branches of trees, how was he to drink? Should it be asked, nee eae ae tt a Lick ot a 2 Why is the elephant’s neck so short ? it may be answered, that the weight of a head so heavy could not have been supported at the end of a longer lever. To a form, there- 2eeGed ee ee ee fore, in some respects necessary, but in some respects also inadequate to the occasion of tl] 1e animal, a supplement is added which exactly makes up the deficiency under which he labored. Fe te ae es Lt a6-be sr iggested that this proboscis may have been produced, in a long course of generations, by t] le constant endeavor of the elephant to thrust out its nose—whj the general hypothesis by which it has lat ely t uch is LSP Ree ewe eR een attem pt- ed to account for the forms of animated nature ask, How was the animal to suk —I would sist in the mean time, dur- ing the process, wntzl this prolongation of snout were com- pleted? What was to become of the individual while the species was perfecting ? Our business at present is, simply to point out the rela- tion which this organ bears to the peculiar figure of the ani- mal to which it belongs. And herein all things correspond. The necessity of the elephant’s proboscis arises shortness of his neck; the eine of the neck from the < is rendered necessary by the weight of the head. Were we to enter * Plate V., Fig. 4.185 into an examination of the structure and anatomy of the proboscis itself, we should see in it one of the most curious of all examples of animal mechanism. The disposition of the ringlets and fibres, for the purpose, first, of forming a long cartilaginous pipe ; secondly, of contracting and lengthening that pipe ; thirdly, of turning it in every direction at the will of the animal ; with the superaddition at the end of a fleshy production,* of about the length and thickness of a finger, and performing the office of a finger, so as to pick up a straw from the ground: these properties of the same organ, taken together, exhibit a specimen not only of design—which is attested by the advantage—but of consummate art, and as I may say, of elaborate preparation, in accomplishing that design. If. The hook in the wing of a éat is strictly a mechani- cal, and also a compensating contrivance. At the angle of its wing there is a bent claw, exactly in the form of a hook, by which the bat attaches itself to the sides of rocks, caves, and buildings, laymg hold of crevices, joinings, chinks, and roughnesses. It hooks itself by this claw ; remains sus- pended by this hold; takes its flight from this position: which operations compensate for the decrepitude of its legs and feet. .Without her hook the bat would be the most helpless of all animals. She can neither run upon her feet, nor raise herself from the ground. These imabilities are made up to her by the contrivance in her wing; and in placing a claw on that part, the Creator has deviated from the analogy observed in winged animals. A singular de- fect required a singular substitute. : III. The crane kind are to live and seek their food among the waters; yet having no web-foot, are incapable of swimming. To make up for this deficiency, they are ftr- nished with long legs for wading, or long bills for groping, or usually with both. This is compensation. But I think the true reflection upon the present instance is, how every * See Fig. 5. Sp SeeResaee Gets es TFS sesae gS eset eEcf Fi i ee ee ee ee ee ee a ee ee ee ee le cS a ee ee Te ee ae ee es ee re ee ee ed eee oe VEN eI pe ee eee ee ee ee eseT tet PT ee ee eee eT eee PE epaee= ee te ae es 186 NATURAL PHEOGROGY, part of nature is tenanted by appropriate inhabitants. Not only is the surface of deep waters peopled by numerous tribes of birds that swim, but marshes and shallow pools are fur- nished with hardly less numerous tribes of birds that wade. IV. The common parrot has, im the structure of its beak, both an inconveniency and a compensation for it. When I speak of an inconveniency, I have a view to a dilemma which frequently occurs in the works of nature, namely, that the peculiarity of structure by which an organ is made to an- swer one purpose, necessarily unfits it for some other pur- pose. This is the case before us. The upper bill of the parrot is so much hooked, and so much overlaps the lower, that if, as in other birds, the lower chap alone had motion, the bird could scarcely gape wide enough to receive its food ; yet this hook and overlapping of the bill could not be spared, for it forms the very instrument by which the bird climbs, to say nothing of the use which it makes of it in breaking nuts and the hard substances upon which it feeds. How, therefore, has nature provided for the opening of this ocelud- ed mouth? By making the upper chap movable, as well as the lower. In most birds, the upper chap is connected, and makes but one piece with the skull; but in the parrot, the upper chap is joined to the bone of the head by a strong membrane placed on each side of it, which lifts and depresses it at pleasure.* VY. The speder’s web is a compensating contrivance. Ihe spider lives upon flies, without wings to pursue them— a case, one would have thought, of great difficulty, yet pro- vided for, and provided for by a resource which no strata- gem, no effort of the animal, could have produced, had not both its external and internal structure been specifically adapted to the operation. VI. In many species of insects the eye is fixed, and con- sequently without the power of turning the pupil to the ob- ject. This great defect is, however, perfectly compensated, * Goldsmith’s Nat. Hist., vol. 5, ps 2741COMPENSATION. 187 and by a mechanism which we should not suspect. The eye is a multiplying-glass, with a lens looking in every direction and catching every object. By which means, although the orb of the eye be stationary, the field of vision is as ample as that of other animals, and is commanded on every side. When this lattice-work was first observed, the multiplicity and minuteness of the surfaces must have add- ed to the surprise of the discovery. Adams tells us that fourteen hundred of these reticulations have been counted in the two eyes of a drone-bee. In other cases, the compensation is effected by the num- ber and position of the eyes themselves. The spider has eight eyes, mounted upon different parts of the head; two in front, two in the top of the head, two on each side. These eyes are without motion, but by their situation suited to comprehend every view which the wants or safety of the animal rendered it necessary for it to take. VII. The Memoirs for the Natural History of Animals, published by the French Academy, a. p. 1687, furnish us with some curious particulars in the eye of a chameleon. Instead of two eyelids, it is covered by an eyelid with a hole init. This singular structure appears to be compensatory. aud to answer to some other singularities in the shape of the animal. The neck of the chameleon is inflexible. To make up for this, the eye is so prominent as that more than half of the ball stands out of the head, by means of which extra- ordinary projection the pupil of the eye can be carried by the muscles in every direction, and is capable of being pointed towards every object. But then so unusual an exposure of the globe of the eye requires for its lubricity and defence a more than ordinary protection of eyelid, as well as a more than ordinary supply of moisture ; yet the motion of an eye- lid, formed according to the common construction, would be impeded, as it should seem, by the convexity of the organ. The aperture in the lid meets this difficulty. It enables the animal to keep the principal part of the surface of the eye ee eee ee ee ee re ES a ee a eee ee ok ee ae eae ee a eee oe ee CO a ee Pe eee Bee ee ee ee ee ee oe ee ee ee ee a5g ah oe a SSEGIS Ss Pit 188 NATURAL THEOLOGY. under cover, and to preserve it in a due state of humidity without shutting out the light, or without performing every moment a nié. tation which it is probable would be more laborious to this animal than to others. VIII. In another animal, and 11 another part of the ani- mal économy, the same memoirs describe a most remarkable substitution. The reader will remember what we have already observed concerning the zntestimal canal—that its length, so many times exceeding that of the body, promotes the extraction of the chyle from the aliment, by giving room for the lacteal vessels to act upon it through a greater space. This long intestine, wherever it occurs, is, in other animals, disposed in the abdomen from side to side in returning folds. But in the animal now under our notice, the matter is man- aged otherwise. The same intention is mechanically effect- uated, but by a mechanism of a different kind. The animal of which I speak is an amphibious quadruped, which our authors call the alopecias, or sea-fox. The intestine is straight from one end to the other; but in this straight and consequently short intestine, is a winding, corkscrew, spiral passage, through which the food, not without several cireum- volutions, and in fact by a long route, is conducted to its exit. Here the shortness of the gut is compensated by the obliquity of the perforation. IX. But the works of the Deity are known by expedi- ents. Where we should look for absolute destitution, where we can reckon up nothmg but wants, some con- trivance always comes in to supply the privation. A svazl, without wings, feet, or thread, climbs up the stalks of plants by the sole aid of a viscid humor discharged from her skin. She adheres to the stems, leaves, and fruits of plants by means of a sticking-plaster. A mussel, which might seem by its helplessness to he at the mercy of every wave that went over it, has the singular power of spinning strong ten- dinous threads, by which she moors her shell to rocks and timbers. A cockle, on the contrary, by means of its stiffCOMPENSATION. tongue, works for itself a shelter m the sand. The provis- lons of nature extend to cases the most desperate. A lobster has in its constitution a difficulty so great, that one could hardly conjecture beforehand how nature would dispose of it. In most animals, the skin grows with their erowth. If, instead of a soft skin, there be a shell, still it admits of a gradual enlargement. If the shell, as in the tortoise, consist of several pieces, the accession of substance is made at the sutures. Bivalve shells grow bigger by receiving an accre- tion at their edge; it is the same with spiral shells at their mouth. The simplicity of their form admits of this. But the lobster’s shell being applied to the limbs of the body, as well as to the body itself, allows not of either of the modes of growth which are observed to take place in other shells. Its hardness resists expansion, and its complexity renders it incapable of increasing its size by addition of substance to its edge. How then was the growth of the lobster to be pro- vided for? Was room to be made for it in the old shell, or was it to be successively fitted with new ones? Ifa change of shell became necessary, how was the lobster to extricate himself from his present confinement ; how was he to uncase his buckler, or draw his legs out of his boots? The process which fishermen have observed to take place is as follows : at certain seasons the shell of the lobster grows soft; the animal swells its body ; the seams open, and the claws burst at the joints. When the shell has thus become loose upon the body, the animal makes a second effort, and by a trem- ulous, spasmodic motion casts if off. Inthis state, the liber- ated but defenceless fish retires into holes in the rock. The released body now suddenly pushes its growth. In about eight and forty hours a fresh concretion of humor upon the surface, that 1s, a new shell, is formed, adapted in every part to the increased dimensions of the animal. This woriderful mutation is repeated every year. If there be imputed defects without compensation, I should suspect that they were defects only in appearance. ie ee et Pee eee ee ee ee ee ee es i " ise Bae We ee ore ae oe ee ene Le ok inten weds eR OSS SHIRE a eee re ee eee ce ee ee ee ee eeee Tee eS et geese See et eo ee eee Fe es 190 NATURA PHEVLOSG YX. Thus, the body of the sloth has often been reproached for the slowness of its motions, which has been attributed to an im- perfection in the formation of its limbs. But it ought to be observed, that it is this slowness which alone suspends the voracity of the animal. He fasts during his migration from one tree to another ; and this fast may be necessary for the relief of his overcharged vessels, as well as to allow time for the concoction of the mass of coarse and hard food which he has taken into his stomach. The tardiness of his pace seems to have reference to the capacity of his organs, and to his propensities with respect to food; that is, is calculated to counteract the effects of repletion. Or there may be cases in which a defeét is artificial, and compensated by the very cause which produces it. Thus the sheep, in the domesticated state in which we see it, is destitute of the ordinary means of defence or escape—is in- capable either of resistance or flight. But this is not so with the wild animal. The natural sheep is swift and active; and if it lose these qualities when it comes under the subjection of man, the loss is compensated by his protec- tion. Perhaps there is no species of quadruped whatever which suffers so little as this does from the depredation of animals of prey. For the sake of making our meaning better understood, we have considered this business of compensation under cer- tain particularities of constitution in which it appears to be most conspicuous. This view of the subject necessarily limits the instances to single,species of animals. But there are compensations, perhaps not less certain, which extend over large classes and to large portions of living nature. I. In quadrupeds, the deficiency of teeth is usually com- pensated by the faculty of rumination. The sheep, deer, and ox tribe are without fore-teeth in the upper jaw. These ruminate. The horse and ass are furnished with teeth in the upper jaw, and do not ruminate. In the former class, the grass and hay descend into the stomach nearly in theCOMPENSATION. 194 state in which they are cropped from the pasture or gathered from the bundle. In the stomach they are softened by the gastric juice, which in these animals is unusually copious. Thus softened and rendered tender, they are returned a sec- ond time to the action of the mouth, where the grinding teeth complete at their leisure the trituration which is necessary, but which was before left imperfect: I say the trituration which is necessary, for it appears from experiments that the gastric fluid of sheep, for example, has no effect in digesting plants unless they have been previously masticated ; that it only produces a slight maceration, nearly as common water would do in a like degree of heat ; but that when once veg- etables are reduced to pieces by mastication, the fluid then exerts upon them its specific operation. Its first effect is to soften them, and to destroy their natural consistency ; it then goes on to dissolve them, not sparing even the toughest parts, such as the nerves of the leaves.* I think it very probable that the gratification also of the animal is renewed and prolonged by this faculty. Sheep, deer, and oxen appear to be in a state of enjoyment while they are chewing the cud; it is then, perhaps, that they best relish their food. II. In birds, the compensation is still more striking. They have no teeth at all. What have they then to make up for this severe want? I speak of granivorous and herbiy- orous birds, such as common fowls, turkeys, ducks, geese, pigeons, etc.; for it is concerning these alone that the ques- tion need be asked. All these are furnished with a peculiar and most powerful muscle, called the gizzard ; the inner coat of which is fitted up with rough plaits, which, by a strong friction against one another, break and grind the hard aliment as effectually, and by the same mechanical action, as a coflee-mill would do. It has been proved by the most correct experiments, that the gastric juice of these birds will not operate upon the entzre grain; not even when softened Spallanzani, disc. 3, sec. 140. a4 Peer eT Tee eee ree Te Pe Test eee re parit ee ee ee a a ee ae ee re ee ee re te er a eo PES FEE PS LE ee eS YS Pe ee ee aePPPs sass vy eRSAE nee aa rae Tere tee eee eee Tee 192 NATURAL THEOLOGY. by water or macerated in the crop. Therefore, without a grinding machine within its body, without the trituration of the gizzard, a chicken would have starved upon a heap of comm. Yet, why should a bill and a gizzard go together? Why should a gizzard never be found where there are teeth ? Nor does the gizzard belong to birds as such. pose of shedding the ir spawn in fresh water. al We may select out of zkzs catalogue the incubation of os ey ee rae DR a i a lavalceia ie eee eoos. i entertain no doubt but that a couple ol Sparrows 1atched in an oven, and kept separate from the rest of then species, would proceed as other Sparrows do It, CVElV ofhice 5 ee ee ee ee a ee ay ake which related to the production and preservation of their brood. Assuming this fact, the thing is inexplicable upon any other ae than that of an instinct impressed upon the constitution of the animal. For, first, what should in- RS SL Soa ee ee duce the female bird to prepare a nest before she lays her eogs? It is in vain to suppose her to be possessed of the x: faculty of reasoning ; for no reasoning will reach the case. ] 7° The fulness or dis sien toe which she might feel in a partic- ular part of the body, f rom the growth and solidity of the ego within her, could not possibly inform her that she was oowee tS SPHSSeee 200 NATURAL THEOLOGY. about to produce something which, when produced, was to be preserved and taken care of. Prior to experience, there was nothing to lead to this inference, or to this suspicion. The analogy was a// against it ; for, in every other instance, what issued from the body was cast out and rejected. But, secondly, let us suppose the egg to be produced into day ; how should birds know that their eggs contain their young? There is nothing either in the aspect or in the in- ternal composition of an egg which could lead even the most daring imagination to conjecture that it was hereafter to turn out from under its shell a living, perfect bird. The form of the ege bears not the rudiments of a resemblance to that of the bird. Inspecting its contents, we find still less reason, if possible, to look for the result which actually takes place. If we should go so far as, from the appearance of order and distinction in the disposition of the liquid substances which we noticed in the egg, to guess that it might be designed co? for the abode and nutriment of an animal—which would be a very bold hypothesis—we should expect a tadpole dabbling in the slime, much rather than a dry, winged, feathered crea- ture, 2 compound of parts and properties impossible to be used in a state of confinement in the egg, and bearing no conceivable relation, either in quality or material, to any thing observed in it. From the white of an egg, would any one look for the feather of a goldfinch; or expect from a simple uniform mucilage the most complicated of all ma- chines, the most diversified of all collections of substances ? Nor would the process of incubation, for some time at least, lead us to suspect the event. Who that saw red streaks shooting in the fine membrane which divides the white from the yolk, would suppose that these were about to become bones and limbs? Who that espied two discolored points first making their appearance in the cicatrix, would have had the courage to predict that these points were to grow into the heart and head of a bird? It is difficult to stmp the mind of its experience. It is difficult to resuscitate sur-INSTINC TS. 201 prise when familiarity has once laid the sentiment asleep. But could we forget all that we know, and which our spar- rows never knew, about oviparous generation—could we divest ourselves of every information but what we derived from reasoning upon the appearances or quality discovered in the objects presented to us, 1 am convinced that harle- quin coming out of an ege upon the stage is not more aston- ishing to a child, than the hatching of a chicken both would be, and ought to be, to a philosopher. But admit the sparrow by some means to know that within that egg was concealed the principle of a future bird; from what chemist was she to learn that warmth was nec- essary to bring it to maturity, or that the degree of warmth imparted by the temperature of her own body was the de- gree required 2 To suppose, therefore, that the female bird acts in this process from a sagacity and reason of her own, is to suppose her to arrive at conclusions which there are no premises to justify. If our sparrow, sitting upon her eggs, expect young sparrows to come out of them, she forms, I will venture to say, a wild and extravagant expectation, in opposition to present appearances and to probability. She must have penetrated into the order of nature further than any facul- ties of ours will carry us; and it has been well observed, that this deep sagacity, if it be sagacity, subsists m conjunc- tion with great stupidity, even in relation to the same sub- ject. ‘A chemical operation,” says Addison, ‘‘ could not be followed with greater art or diligence than is seen m hatch- ino a chicken; yet is the process carried on without the least glimmering of thought or common-sense. The hen z will mistake a piece of chalk for an egg—is insensible of the increase or diminution of their number—does not dis- tineuish between her own and those of another species—is frichtened when her supposititious breed of ducklings take the water.” But it will be said, that what reason could not do for the L gx ey F234 q 2 cy 4 eps: aoe od feo eombemt ee Zatlses FPS See ese Fors eee a ee ee ae Se Sa ee a ee ee ee ee eS ee ee ee ee ee ee a ee td oe Te ae ee ee a ee nes PLS+ OP RR EGO MRSS TE EHA ESS202 NATURAL THEOLOGY. bird, observation, or instruction, or tradition might. Now if it be true that a couple of sparrows, brought up from the first in a state of separation from all other birds, would build their nest, and brood upon their eggs, then there is an end of this solution. What can be the traditionary knowledge of a chicken hatched in an oven? Of young birds taken in their nests, a few species breed when kept in cages; and they which do so, build their nests nearly in the same manner as in the wild state, and sit upon their eggs. This is sufficient to prove an instinct, without having recourse to experiments upon birds hatched by artifi- cial heat, and deprived from their birth of all communica- tion with their species ; for we can hardly bring ourselves to believe that the parent bird informed her unfledged pupil: of the history of her gestation, her timely preparation of a nest, her exclusion of the eggs, her long incubation, and of the joyful eruption at last of her expected offspring; all which the bird in the cage must have learnt in her infancy, if we resolve her conduct into ensiztution. Unless we will rather suppose that she remembers her own escape from the egg, had attentively observed the con- formation of the nest in which she was nurtured, and had treasured up her remarks for future imitation ; which is not only extreniely improbable—for who that sees a brood of callow birds in their nest can believe that they are taking a plan of their habitation ?—but leaves unaccounted for one principal part of the difficulty, “‘the preparation of the nest before the laying of the egg.” This she could not gain from observation in her infancy. It is remarkable also, that the hen sits upon eggs which she has laid without any communication with the male, aud which are therefore necessarily unfruitful. That secret she is not let into. Yet if incubation had been a subject of instruction or of tradition, it should seem that this distinction would have formed part of the lesson ; whereas the instinct of nature is calculated for a state of nature—the exception hereINSTINCTS. 203 alluded to taking place chiefly, if not solely, among domesti- cated fowls, in which nature is forced out of her course. There is another case of oviparous economy, which is still less likely to be the effect of education than it is éven in birds, namely, that of moths and butterflies, which deposit their eggs in the precise substance, that of a cabbage for ex- ample, from which, not the butterfly herself, but the caterpil- lar which is to issue from her egg, draws its appropriate food. The butterfly cannot taste the cabbage cabbage is no food for her ; yet in the cabbage, not by chance, but studiously and electively, she lays her eggs... There are, among many other kinds, the willow-caterpillar and the cabbage-caterpillar ; but we never find upon a willow the caterpillar which eats the cabbage, nor the converse. This choice, as appears to me, cannot in the butterfly proceed from instruction. She had no teacher in her caterpillar state. She never knew her parent. I do not see, therefore, how knowledge acquired by experi- ence, if it ever were such, could be transmitted from one gen- eration toanother. There is no opportunity either for instruc- tion or imitation. The parent race is gone before the new brood is hatched. And if it be original reasoning in the but- terfly, it is profound reasoning indeed. She must remember her caterpillar state, its tastes and habits, of which memory she shows no signs whatever. She must conclude from anal- ogy, for here her recollection cannot serve her, that the little round body which drops from her abdomen will at a future period produce a living creature, not like herself, but like the caterpillar which she remembers herself once to have been. Under the influence of these reflections, she goes about to make provision for an order of things which she concludes will some time or other take place. And it is to be observed, that not a few out of many, but that all butterflies argue thus ; all draw this conclusion ; all act upon it. But suppose the address, and the selection, and the plan, which we perceive in the preparations which many irra- tional animals make for their young, to be traced to some seve sbateset ae ee ee Pe ee ee iii ee a Se fad ee eee Ce eee eae a ae AS eee er pe ee ee eS eee eg eg ee ee Sere PSSC ORs PO SA OP RAG ome BST.2e dim Roe Soe te eee ee eS ut a ory eS a OTE SeteFesnigy rr eetsises Roe oat ee ee ree See eet ee ee 204 NATURAL THEOLOGY. probable origin, still there is left to be accounted for that which is the source aud foundation of these phenomena, that which sets the whole at work, the oropyn, the parental affec- tion, which I contend to be inexplicable upon any other hypothesis than that of instinct. For we shall hardly, I imagine, in brutes, refer their conduct towards their offspring to a sense of duty or of de- cency, a care of reputation, a compliance with public man- ners, with public laws, or with rules of life built upon a long experience of their utility. And all attempts to account for the parental aflection from association, I think, fail. With what is it associated? Most immediately with the throes of parturition, that is, with pain, and terror, and disease. The more remote, but not less strong association, that which depends upon analogy, is all against it. Every thing else which proceeds from the body is cast away and rejected. In birds, is it the egg which the hen loves ; or is it the ex- pectation which she cherishes of a future progeny, that keeps her upon her nest? What cause has she to expect delight from her progeny? Can any rational answer be given to the question, why, prior to experience, the brooding hen should look for pleasure from her chickens? It does not, I think, appear that the cuckoo ever knows her young ; yet, in her way, she is as careful in making provision for them as any other bird. She does not leave her egg in every hole. The salmon suffers no+surmountable obstacle to oppose her progress up the stream of fresh rivers. And what does she do there? She sheds a spawn, which she immediately quits in order to return to the sea; and this issue of her body she never afterwards recognizes in any shape whatever. Where shall we find a motive for her eflorts and her perse- verance? Shall we seek it in argumentation, or in instinct ? The violet crab of Jamaica performs a fatiguing march of some months’ continuance from the mountaims to the sea- side. When she reaches the coast, she casts her spawn into the open sea, and sets out upon her return home. ‘INSTINCTS. 205 Moths and butterflies, as has already-been observed, seek out for their eggs those precise situations and substances in which the offspring caterpillar will find its appropriate food. That dear caterpillar the parent butterfly must never see. There are no experiments to prove that she would retain any knowledge of it, if she did. How shall we account for her conduct? I do not mean for her art and judgment im selecting and securing a maintenance for her young, but for the impulse upon which she acts. What should induce her to exert any art, or judgment, or choice, about the matter ? The undisclosed grub, the animal which she is destined not to know, can hardly be the object of a particular affection, if we deny the influence of instinct. There is nothing there- fore left to her, but that of which her nature seems incapa- ble, an abstract anxiety for the general preservation of the species a kind of patriotism a solicitude lest the butterfly ‘race should cease from the creation. Lastly, the principle of association will not explain the discontinuance of the affection when the young animal is grown up. Association operating in its usual way, would rather produce a contrary effect. The object would become more necessary by habits of society; whereas birds and beasts, after a certain time, banish their offspring, disown their acquaintance, seem to have even no knowledge of the objects which so lately engrossed the attention of their minds, and occupied the industry and labor of their bodies. This change, in different animals, takes place at different distan- ces of time from the birth; but the time always corresponds with the ability of the young animal to maintain itself, never anticipates it. In the sparrow tribe, when it is perceived that the young brood can fly and shift for themselves, then the parents forsake them for ever ; and though they continue to live together, pay them no more attention than they do to other birds in the same flock.* I believe the same thing is true of all gregarious quadrupeds. * Goldsmith’s Natural History, vol. iv., p. 244. eet Peet Let eee eee ee ees So ee ee ee ey te SPSL SOREL ST2itis eT eS ier ee ict eat cee eae a er ed 206 NATURAL THEOLOGY. In this part of the case, the variety of resources, expedi- ents, and materials which animals of the same species are said to have recourse to under different circumstances, and when differently supplied, makes nothing against the doc- trine of instincts. The thing which we want to account for is the propensity. The propensity being there, it is probable enough that it may put the animal upon different actions according to different exigencies. And this adaptation of resources may look like the effect of art and consideration rather than of instinct ; but still the propensity is instinctive. For instance, suppose what is related of the woodpecker to be true, that in Europe she deposits her eggs in cavities which she scoops out in the trunks of soft or decayed trees, and in which cavities the eggs lie concealed from the eye, and in some sort safe from the hand of man; but that in the foresis - of Guinea and the Brazils, which man seldom frequents, the same bird hangs her nest on the twigs of tall trees, thereby =H placing them out of the reach of monkeys and snakes; that is, that in each situation she prepares against the danger which she has most occasion to apprehend. Suppose, | say, this to be true, and to be alleged, on the part of the bird hat builds these nests, as evidence of a reasoning and dis- neuishing precaution; still the question returns, whence t ting the propensity to build at all? Nor does parental affection accompany generation by any universal law of animal organization, if such a thing were intelligible. Some animals cherish their progeny with the most ardent fondness and the most assiduous attention ; others entirely neglect them; and this distinction always meets the constitution of the young animal with respect to its wants and capacities. In many, the parental care extends to the young animal; in others, as in all oviparous fish, it is con- fined to the egg, and even as to that, to the disposal of it in its proper element. Also, as there is generation without parental affection, so is there parental instinct, or what ex- actly resembles it, without generation. In the bee tribe, theINSTINGTS. 207 erub is nurtured neither by the father nor the mother, but by the neutral bee. Probably the case is the same with ants. I am not ignorant of the theory which resolves instinct into sensation, which asserts that what appears to have a view and relation to the future, is the result only of the present disposition of the animal’s body, and of pleasure or pain experienced at the teme. Thus the incubation of eggs is accounted for by the pleasure which the bird is supposed to receive from the pressure of the smooth convex surface of the shells against the abdomen, or by the relief which the mild temperature of the ege may afford to the heat of the lower part of the body, which is observed at this time to be increased beyond its usual state. This present gratification is the only motive with the hen for sitting upon her nest ; the hatching of the chickens is, with respect to her, an acci- dental consequence. The affection of viviparous animals for their young is in like manner solved by the relief, and per- haps the pleasure, which they perceive from giving suck. The young animal's seeking, im so many instances, the teat of its dam, is explained from its sense of smell, which is attracted by the odor of milk. The salmon’s urging its way up the stream of fresh-water rivers, is attributed to some eratification or refreshment which, in this particular state of the fish’s body, she receives fromm the change of element. Now of this theory it may be said, First, that of the cases which require solution, there are few to which it can be applied with tolerable probability ; that there are none to which it can be applied without strong objections, furnished by the circumstances of the case. The attention of the cow to its calf, and of the ewe to its lamb, appear to be prior to their sucking. The attraction of the calf or lamb to the teat of the dam, is not explained by simply referring it to the sense of smell. What made the scent of milk so agreeable to the lamb that it should follow it up with its nose, or seek with its mouth the place from which it proceeded? No observation, no experience, no argument Ter $+ picgbesca ei geteee yg Pervessegeerse ee oe eee a ee eee ey ee ree ee aes pee seete. a. ee eS ee 2 ee ee ee See ee ee eee ee ee vateetatkedad. oANATURAL THEOLOGY. 208 could teach the new-dropped animal that the substance from ed which the scent issued was the material of its food. It had : never tasted milk before its birth. None of the ammals which are not designed for that nourishment ever ofter to suck, or to seek out any such food. What is the conclusion, CEES e eee eee ee ee ee ee { | ' but that the sugescent parts of animals are fitted for their use, and the knowledge of that use put into them ? We assert, secondly, that even as to the cases in which the hypothesis has the fairest claim to consideration, it does not at all lessen the force of the argument for intention and design. The doctrine of instinct is that of appetencies, superadded to the constitution of an animal, for the eflectu- ating of a purpose beneficial to the species. The above- stated solution would derive these appetencies from organi- zation; but then this organization is not less specifically, not less precisely, and therefore not less evidently adapted to the same ends, than the appetencies themselves would be upon the old hypothesis. In this way of considering the subject, sensation supplies the place of foresight ; but this is the eflect of contrivance on the part of the Creator. Let it be allowed, for example, that the hen is induced to brood upon her eggs by the enjoyment or relief which, in the heat- ed state of her abdomen, she experiences from the pressure of round smooth surfaces, or from the application of a tem- perate warmth. How comes this extraordinary heat or itching, or call it what you will, which you suppose to be the cause of the bird’s inclination, to be felt just at the time when the inclination itself is wanted; when it tallies so exactly with the mternal constitution. of the egg, and with 4 the help which that constitution requires in order to brine it to maturity? In my opinion, this solution, if it be accept- ed as to the fact, ought to increase, rather than otherwise, our admiration of the contrivance. A gardener lighting up his stoves just when he wants to force his fruit, and when i. his trees require the heat, gives not a more certain evidence ie of design. So again, when a male and female sparrow comeINSTINCTS. 209 together, they do not meet to confer upon the expediency of perpetuating their species. As an abstract proposition, they care not the value of a barley-corn whether the species be perpetuated or not: they follow their sensations, and all those consequences ensue which the wisest counsels could have dictated, which the most solicitous care of futurity, which the most anxious concern for the sparrow-world could have produced. But how do these consequences ensue ? The sensations, and the constitution upon which they de- pend, are as manifestly directed to the’ purpose which we see fulfilled by them; and the train of intermediate effects as manifestly laid and planned with a‘view to that purpose ; that is to say, design is as completely evinced by the phe- nomena, as 1t would be even if we suppose the operations to begin or to be carried on from what some will allow to be alone properly called instincts, that is, from desires direct- ed to a future end, and having no accomplishment or erati- fication distinct from the attainment of that end. In a word, I should say. to the patrons of this opinion, Be it so; be it that those actions of animals which we refer to instinct are not gone about with any view to their conse- quences, but that they are attended in the animal with a present gratification, and are pursued for the sake of that eratification alone; what does all this prove, but that the prospection, which must be somewhere, is not in the ani- mal, but in the Creator? E In treating of the parental affection in brutes, our busi- ness lies rather with the origin of the principle, than with the eflects and expressions of it. Writers recount these with pleasure and admiration. The conduct of many kinds of animals towards their young has escaped no observer, no historian of nature. ‘How will they caress them,” says Derham, “ with their affectionate notes ; Jull and quiet them with their tender parental voice; put food into their mouths: cherish and keep them warm ; teach them to pick, and e »{ ut and gather food for themselves ; and, in a word, perform the ppaseaseeesarheeets ee ee er Se a re es ee tee ee ee eae ee ee a ee eet ne ee ee ee eae pee ee ee Pee Se Pe Se ere yee ee ie ee ee ee Pee aaITLL eet eee eee Co ee ee ae ne ee Oe ed = =e Es eas sat doe Ea a 210 NATURA THmOLOGY. part of so many nurses, deputed by the Sovereign Lord and Preserver of the world to help such young and shiftless crea- tures!’ Neither ought it, under this head, to be forgotten, > o how much the instinct costs the animal which feels it ; how much a bird, for example, gives up by sitting upon her nest; how repugnant it is to her organization, her habits, and her pleasures. An animal, formed for liberty, submits to con- finement in the very season when every thing invites her abroad: what is more, an animal delighting in motion, made for motion, all whose motions are so easy, and so free, hardly a moment, at other times, at rest, is, for many hours of many days together, fixed to her nest as close as if her limbs were tied down by pins and wires. For my part, I never see a bird in that situation but I recognize an invisi- ble hand detaining the contented prisorer from her fields and groves, for the purpose, as the event proves, the most worthy of the sacrifice, the most important, the most beneficial. sut the loss of liberty is not the whole of what the procreant bird suffers. Harvey tells us that he has often found the female wasted to skin and bone by sitting upon her eggs. One observation more, and I will dismiss the subject. The pairing of birds, and the on-pairing of beasts, forms a distinction between the two classes, which shows that the conjugal instinct is modified with a reference to utility found- ed on the condition of the offspring. In quadrupeds, the young animal draws its nutriment from the body of the dam. The male parent neither does, nor can contribute any part to its sustentation. In the winged race, the young bird is supplied by an importation-of food, to procure and bring home which, in a sufficient quantity for the demand of a numerous brood, requires the industry of both parents. Thi this diflerence, we see a reason for the vagrant instinct of the quadruped, and: for the faithful love of the feathered mate.INSECTS. CHAPTER, AB. OF INSECTS. We are not writing a system of natural history; there- fore we have not attended to the classes into which the sub- jects of that science are distributed. What we had to ob- serve concerning different species of animals, fell easily, for the most part, within the divisions which the course of our aroument led us to adopt. There remain, however, some remarks upon the zmsect tribe which could not properly be introduced under any of these heads; and which therefore we have collected into a chapter by themselves. The structure, and the use of the parts of insects, are less understood than that of quadrupeds and birds, not only by reason of their minuteness, or the minuteness of their parts—for that minuteness we can, in some measure, follow with glasses—but also by reason of the remoteness of their manners and modes of lfe from those of larger animals. For instance, insects, nder all their varieties of form, are eidowed with antenne, which is the name given to those long feelers that rise from each side of the head: but to what common use or want of the insect kind a provision so universal is subservient, has not yet been ascertained; and it has not been ascertained, because it admits not of a clear, or very probable comparison with any organs which we possess ourselves, or with the organs of animals which re- semble ourselves in their functions and faculties, or with which we are better acquainted than we are with insects. We want a ground of analogy. This difficulty stands in our way as to some particulars in the insect constitution which we might wish to be acquainted with. Nevertheless, there are many contrivances in the bodies of insects, neither dubious in their use, nor obscure in their structure, and most properly mechanical. These form parts of our argument. I. The elytra, or scaly wings of the genus of scarabeus tie ivgddvapi gets ee see ses ssSeset te S$ oS eHs shes e ih S525 ee ee ee eae eee ae ee ee eee ee Oe ee ee ee ee a eee eee Bae a pen ee og eS ee Le ae eeee Rie ge ee oy yak ee aed rn ae ee es ee ae cay. ee) oF NATURAD THEOL ee or beetle, furnish an example of this kd. The true wing of the animal is a light, transparent membrane, finer than the finest gauze, and not unlike it.- It is also, when expand- ed, in proportion to the size of the animal, very large. In order to protect this delicate structure, and perhaps, also, to preserve it in a due state of suppleness and humidity, a strong, hard case is given to it in the shape of the horny wing which we call the elytron. When the animal is at rest, the gauze wings lie folded up under this impenetrable shield. When the beetle prepares for flying, he raises the sument, and spreads out his thin membrane to the air.* And it cannot be observed without admiration, what a tissue inte of cordage, that is, of muscular tendons, must run im various and complicated, but determinate directions, along this fine surface, in order to enable the animal either to gather it up into a certain precise form, whenever it desires to place its wings under the shelter which nature has given to them, or to expand again their folds when wanted for action In some insects, the elytra cover the whole body ; im oth- ers, half; in others, only a small part of it; but in all, they completely hide and cover the true wings. Also, Many or most of the beetle species lodge in holes in the earth, environed by hard, rough substances, and have fre- quently to squeeze their way through narrow passages ; m which situation, wings so tender, and so large, could scarce- ly have escaped injury, without both a firm covering to de- fend them, and the capacity of collecting themselves up un- der its protection. II. Another contrivance, equally mechanical and equally clear, is the az, or borer, fixed at the tails of various species of flies; and with which they pierce, in some cases, plants ; in others, wood ; in others, the sk n and flesh of animals; in others, the coat of the chrysalis of insects of a diflerent species from their own; and in others, even lime, mortar, and stone. T need not add, that having pierced the substance, they de- * Prate V., Fie. 6. a, a, the elytra; 6, b, the true wings.INSECTS. ois posit their eges in the hole. The descriptions which natural- ists give of this organ are such as the following : It is a sharp- poited instrument, which, in its mactive state, lies concealed in the extremity of the. abdomen, and which the animal draws out at pleasure, for the purpose of making a puncture in the leaves, stem, or bark of the particular plant which is suited to the nourishment of its young. In a sheath, which divides and opens whenever the organ is used, there is in- closed a compact, solid, dentated stem, along which runs a gutter or groove, by which groove, after the penetration is effected, the eg, assisted in some cases by a peristaltic mo- tion, passes to its destined lodgement. In the estrus or gad-fly, the wimble draws out like the pieces of a spy-glass : the last piece is armed with three hooks, and is able to bore through the hide of an ox. Can any thing more be neces- sary to display the mechanism, than to relate the fact ? III. The stzngs of insects, though for a different purpose, are, in their structure, not unlike the piercer. The sharp- ness to which the point in all of them is wrought ; the temper and firmness of the substance of which it is composed ; the strength of the muscles by which it is darted out, compared with the smallness and weakness of the insect, and with the soft and friable texture of the rest of the body, are properties of the sting to be noticed, and not a little to be admired. The sting of a dee will pierce through a goat-skin glove. It penetrates the human flesh more readily than the finest point ofa needle. The action of the sting affords an example of the union of chemistry and mechanism, such as, if it be not a proof of contrivance, nothing is. First, as to the chemis- try, how highly concentrated must be the venom, which, in so small a quantity, can produce such powerful effects! And in the bee we may observe that this venom is made from honey, the only food of the insect, but the last material from which I should have expected that an exalted poison could, by any process or digestion whatsoever, have been prepared. In the next place, with respect to the mechanism, the sting ree es See ieee ee re eet re eee ee ee ee eee rt eS ee Poe ee ee ee oe ee Pe ee ea ee at ed coe ee ee ee ee ee ee ee eee ee Pee ee ee ee emea eo Pecece e ayo ee ee a a ae Ce oat oe ned ee ts Sees erotess a eS 214 NAT OR Ai he ls OG. Y. is not a simple, but a compound instrument. The visible sting,* though drawn to a point exquisitely sharp, is in strict- ness only a sheath, for, near to the extremity, may be per- ceived by the microscope two minute orifices, from which orifices, in the act of stinging, and, as it should seem, after the point of the main sting has buried itself in the flesh, are launched out two subtile rays, which may be called the true or proper stings, as being those through which the poison is infused into the puncture already made by the exterior sting. I have said that chemistry and mechanism are here wnited ; by which observation I meant, that all this machinery would have been useless, tela tmbelle, if a supply of poison, intense in proportion to the smallness of the drop, had not been fur- nished to it by the chemical elaboration which was carried on in the insect’s body ; and that, on the other hand, the pot- son, the result of this process, could not have attained its effect, or reached its enemy, if, when it was collected at the extrem- ity of the abdomen, it had not found there a machinery fitted to conduct it to the situations in which it was to operate— namely, an awl to bore a hole, and a syringe to inject the fluid. Yet these attributes, though combined in their action, are independent in their orig. The venom does not breed the sting; nor does the sting concoct the venom. IV. The proboscis, with which many insects are endowed, comes next in order to be considered. It is a tube attached to the head of the animal. In the bee, it is composed of two pieces, connected by a joint ; for, if it were constantly extend- ed, it would be too much exposed to accidental injuries; there- fore, in its indolent state, it is doubled up by means of the jomt, and in that position lies secure under a scaly penthouse. In many species of the butterfly, the proboscis, when not in use, is coiled up like a watch-spring. In the same bee, the proboscis serves the office of the mouth, the insect having no other ; and how much better adapted it is than a mouth * Plate V., Fig. 7. A sting magnified; a, a, muscles that project it; b, the tube; c, the sheath; d, the true sting: 5) e, the poison-bag.INSECTS. 210 would be, for the collecting of the proper nourishment of the animal, is sufficiently evident. The food of the bee is the nectar of flowers ; a drop of syrup, lodged deep in the bottom of the corolle, in the recesses of the petals, or down the neck of a monopetalous glove. Into these cells the bee thrusts its long narrow pump, through the cavity of which it sucks up this precious fluid, inaccessible to every other approach. It is observable also, that the plant is not the worse for what the bee does to it. The harmless plunderer mfles the sweets, but leaves the flower uninjured. The rimelets of which the proboscis of the bee is composed, the muscles by which it is extended and contracted, form so many microscopical won- ders. The agility also with which it is moved can hardly fail to excite admiration. But it is enough for our purpose to observe in general, the suitableness of the structure to the use, of the means to the end, and especially the wisdom by which nature has departed from its most general analoey— for animals being furnished with mouths are such—when the purpose could be-better answered by the deviation. In some insects, the proboscis, or tongue, or trunk is shut up in a sharp-pointed sheath; which sheath bemg of a much firmer texture than the proboscis itself, as well as sharpened at the point, pierces the substance which contains the food, and then opens within the wound, to allow the inclosed tube, through which the juice is extracted, to perform its office. Can any mechanism be plainer than this is, or sur- pass this? V. The metamorphosis of insects from grubs into moths and flies, is an astonishing process. A hairy caterpillar is transformed into a butterfly. Observe the change. We have four beautiful wings where there were none before; a tubular proboscis in the place of a mouth with jaws and teeth; six long legs instead of fourteen feet. In another case we see a white, smooth, soft worm turned into a black, hard, crustaceous beetle with gauze wings. These, as I said, are o astonishing processes, and must require, as it should seem, a Prep ieei ssi te sy Seige basa ee dete ese See ee ee he216 NATURAL THEOLOGY. proportionably artificial apparatus. The hypothesis which appears to me most probable is, that in the grub there exist at the same time three animals, one within another, all nourished by the same digestion, and by a communicating circulation, but in different stages of maturity. The latest discoveries made by naturalists seem to favor this supposi- tion. The insect already equipped with wings, is descried under the membranes ‘both of the worm and nymph. In some species, the proboscis, the antenne, the limbs, and wings of the fly, have been observed to be folded up within the body of the caterpillar, and with such nicety as to occupy a small space only under the two first wings. This being so, the outermost animal, which, besides its own proper charac- ter, serves as an integument to the other two, being the far- thest advanced, dies, as we suppose, and drops off first. The second, the pupa or chrysalis, then offers itself to observation. This also, in its turn, dies; its dead and brittle husk falls to pieces, and makes way for the appearance of the fly or moth. Now if this be the case, or indeed whatever explication be adopted, we have a prospective contrivance of the most curi- ous kind ; we have organizations three deep, yet a vascular system which supplies nutrition, erowth, and life, to all of them together. VI. Almost all insects are oviparous. Nature keeps her butterflies, moths, and caterpillars locked up during the winter in their ege-state ; and we have to admire the vari- ous devices to which, if we may so speak, the same nature has resorted for the security of the ege. Many insects in- close their eggs in a silken web; others cover them with a coat of hair torn from their own bodies; some glue them together, and others, like the moth of the silk-worm, glue them to the leaves upon which they are deposited, that they may not be shaken off by the wind, or washed away by rain. Some, again, make incisions into leaves, and hide an egg in each incision; while some envelope their eggs with a soft substance, which forms the first aliment of the youngeINSECTS. 217 animal; and some, again, make a hole in the earth, and having stored it with a quantity of proper food, deposit their eggs in it. In all which we are to observe, that the expe- dient depends not so much upon the address of the animal, as upon the physical resources of his constitution. The art also with which the young insect is cotled up in the egg presents, where it can be examined, a subject of great curiosity. The insect, furnished with all the mem- bers which it ought to have, is rolled up into a form which seems to contract it into the least possible space ; by which contraction, notwithstanding the smallness of the egg, it has room enough in its apartment, and to spare. This folding of the limbs appears to me to indicate a special direction ; for if it were merely the effect of compression, the colloca- tion of the parts would be more various than it is. In the same species, I believe, it is always the same. These observations belong to the whole insect tribe, or to a great part of them. Other observations are limited to fewer species, but not perhaps less important or satisfactory. I. The organization in the abdomen of the silk-worm or spider, whereby these insects form their thread, is as incontestably mechanical as a wire-drawer’s mill. In the body of the silk-worm are two bags, remarkable for their form, position, and use, They wind round the intestine ; when drawn out they are ten inches in length, though the animal itself be only two. Within these bags is collected a glue ; and communicating with the bags are two paps or outlets, perforated like a grater by a number of small holes. The glue or gum being passed through these minute aper- tures, forms hairs of almost imperceptible fineness ; and these hairs, when joined, compose the silk which we wind off from the cone in which the silk-worm has wrapped itself up: in the spider, the web is formed from this thread. In both cases, the extremity of the thread, by means of its adhesive quality, is first attached by the animal to some external hold; and the end being now fastened to a point, Nat. Theol. | 0Seses? ce eee es i — PRES eee ee ere So Se Re eS SS ee ee ee ee ee ee Se ae 218 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the insect, by turning round its body, or by receding frorn that point, draws out the thread through the holes above described, by an operation, as has been observed, exactly similar to the drawing of wire. The thread, like the wire, is formed by the hole through which it passes. In one re- spect there is a difference. The wire is the metal unal- tered, except im figure. In the animal process, the nature of the substance 1s somewhat changed as well as the form; for as it exists within the insect, it is a soft, clammy gum or glue. The thread -acquires, it is probable, its firmness and tenacity from the action of the air upon its surface in the moment of exposure; and a thread so fine is almost all surface. This property, however, of the paste is part of the contrivance. The mechanism itself consists of the bags or reservoirs into which the glue is collected, and of the external holes communicating with these bags; and the action of the ma- chine is seen in the forming of a thread, as wire is formed, by forcing the material already prepared through holes of proper dimensions. The secretion is an act too subtile for our discernment, except as we perceive it by the produce. But one thing answers to another—the secretory glands to the quality and consistence required in the secreted sub- stance, the bag to its reception. The outlets and orifices are constructed not merely for relieving the reservoirs of their burden, but for manufacturing the contents into a form and texture of great external use, or rather, indeed, of future necessity to the life and functions of the insect. IJ. Bees, under one character or other, have furnished every naturalist with a set of observations. I shall in this place confine myself to one, and that is the relation which obtains between the wax and the honey. No person who has inspected a beehive can forbear remarking how com- modiously the honey is bestowed in the comb, and among other advantages, how effectually the fermentation of the honey is prevented by distributing it into small cells. The4 tA a a — INSECTS. dae fact is, that when the honey is separated from the comb and put into jars, it runs into fermentation with a much less degree of heat than what takes place in a hive. This may be reckoned a nicety; but independently of any nicety in the matter, I would ask, what could the bee do with the honey if it had not the wax; how, at least, could it store it up for winter? The wax, therefore, answers a purpose with respect to the honey, and the honey constitutes that purpose with respect to the wax. This is the relation be- tween them. But the two substances, though together of the greatest use, and without each other of little, come from a different origin. The bee finds the honey, but makes the wax. The honey is lodged in the nectaria of flowers, and probably undergoes little alteration—is merely collected ; whereas the wax is a ductile, tenacious paste, made out of a dry powder, not simply by kneading it with a liquid, but by a digestive process in the body of the bee. What account can be rendered of facts so circumstanced, but that the ani- mal being intended to feed upon honey, was by a peculiar external configuration enabled to procure it? That, more- over, wanting the honey when it could not be procured at all, it was farther endued with the no less necessary faculty of constructing repositories for its preservation? Which faculty, it is evident, must depend primarily upon the capac- ity of providing suitable materials. Two distinct functions go to make up the ability. First, the power in the bee, with respect to wax, of loading the fara of flowers upon its thighs. Microscopic observers speak of the spoon-shaped appendages with which the thighs of bees are beset for this very purpose ; but inasmuch as the art and will of the bee may be supposed to be concerned in this operation, there is, secondly, that which does not rest in art or will—a digestive faculty, which converts the loose powder into a stiff sub- stance. This is a just account of the honey and the honey- comb; and this account, through every part, carries a cre- ative intelligence along with it. EPL Ete eS Se ee he ee ESSE ET FRET SORENESS SAN TS ye Eee LS Oe NEr a ae eee RSet eee EL te eee eee ee Seg Pose ees ee 220 NATURAL THEOLOGY. The steng also of the bee. has this relation to the honey, that it is necessary for the protection of a treasure which invites so many robbers. III. Our business is with mechanism. In the Panor pa tribe of insects, there is a forceps: in the tail of the male insect, with which he catches and holds the female. Area pair of pincers more mechanical than this provision in its structure ; or is any structure more clear and certain in its desion ? IV. St. Pierre tells us,* that in a fly with six feet—I do not remember that he describes the species—the pair next the head and the pair next the tail have brushes at their extremities, with which the fly dresses, as there may be occasion, the anterior or the posterior part of its body; but that the middle pair have no such brushes, the situation of these legs not admitting of the brushes, if they were there, being converted to the same use. This is a very exact mechanical distinction. VY. If the reader, looking to our distributions of science, wish to contemplate the chemistry as well as the mechan- ism of nature, the insect creation will afford him an exam- ple. I refer to the light in the tail of a glowworm. Two points seem to be agreed upon by naturalists concerning it: first, that it is phosphoric ; secondly, that its use is to attract the male insect. The only thing to be inquired after is the singularity, if any such there be, in the natural history’ of this animal, which should render a provision of this kind more necessary for it than for other insects. That singu- larity seems to be the difference which subsists between the male and the female, which difference is greater than what we find in any other species of animal whatever. The clow- worm is a female caterpillar, the male of which is a Sly, lively, comparatively small, dissimilar to the female in ap- pearance, probably also as distinguished from her in habits, pursuits, and manners, as he is unlike in form and external * Vol,:f,. p. 342,9 ) 1 constitution. Here then is the diversity of the case. The caterpillar cannot meet her companion in the air. The winged rover disdains the ground. They might never there- fore be brought together, did not this radiant torch direct the volatile mate to his sedentary female. In this example we also see the resources of art antici- pated. One grand operation of chemistry is the making of phosphorus ; and it was thought an ingenious device to make phosphoric matches supply the place of lighted tapers. Now this very thing is done in the body of the glowworm. The phosphorus is not only made, but kindled, and caused to emit a steady and genial beam, for the purpose which is here stated, and which I believe to be the true one. VI. Nor is the last the only instance that entomology affords, in which our discoveries, or rather our projects, turn out to be imitations of nature. Some years ago a plan was suggested of producing propulsion by redaction in this way : by the force of a steam-engine, a stream of water was to be shot out of the stern of a boat, the impulse of which stream upon the water in the river was to push the boat itself for- ward; it is in truth the principle by which skyrockets ascend in the air. Of the use or practicability of the plan I am not speaking ; nor is it my concern to praise its inge- nuity ; but it is certainly a contrivance. Now, if natural- ists are to be believed, it is exactly the device which nature has made use of for the motion of some species of aquatic insects. The larva of the dragonfly, according to Adams, swims by ejecting water from its tail—is driven forward by the reaction of water in the pool upon the current issuing in a direction backward from its body. VII. Again, Europe has lately been surprised by the elevation of bodies in the air by means of a balloon. The discovery consisted in finding out a manageable substance, which was, bulk for bulk, lighter than air; and the appli- cation of the discovery was to make a body composed of this substance bear up, along with its own weight, some heavier " b a8 wel és P = e bs hte ee eet ee ee Cee TT eee ee ee eee ee ee ee ee ee eee ee Ea a ek | oe ee Se ey ae a eee ee oe Pee ee eee Pe ee eee ef ee eee ere oat et esVell te eee eee Tae eS Upes saws yee ERS SE roe aoe ed Sele NATUR AD PREODOGY. body which was attached to it. This expedient, so new to us, proves to be no other than what the Author of nature has employed in the gossamer spider. We frequently see this spider’s thread floating in the air, and extended from hedge to hedge, across a road or brook of four or five yards width. The animal which forms the thread has no wings where- with to fly from one extremity to the other of this line, nor muscles to enable it to spring or dart to so great a distance ; yet its Creator has laid for it a path in the atmosphere, and after this manner. Though the animal itself be heavier than air, the thread which it spins from its bowels is spe- cifically lighter. This is its balloon. The spider, left to itself, would drop to the ground ; but being tied to its thread, both are supported. We have here a very pecuhar provis- ion; and to a contemplative eye it 1s a gratifying spectacle to see this insect wafted on her thread, sustaimed by a levity not her own, and traversing regions which, if we examined only the body of the animal, might seem to have been for- bidden to its nature. I must now crave the reader’s permission to introduce into this place, for want of a better, an observation or two upon the tribe of animals, whether belonging to land or water, which are covered by shells. I. The shells of snazls are a wonderful, a mechanical, and, if one might so speak concerning the works of nature, an original contrivance. Other animals have their proper retreats, their hybernacula also, or winter-quarters, but the snail carries these about with him. He travels with his tent ; and this tent, though, as was necessary, both light and thin, is completely impervious either to moisture or air. The young snail comes out of its egg with the shell upon its back ; and the gradual enlargement which the shell receives, is derived from the slime excreted by the animal’s skin. Now the aptness of this excretion to the purpose, its property of hardening into a shell, and the action, whatever it be, ofINSECTS. 223 the animal, whereby it avails itself of its gift, and of the con- stitution of its glands—to say nothing of the work being commenced before the animal is born are things which can, with no probability, be referred to any other cause than to express design; and that not on the part of the ani- mal alone—in which design, though it might build the house, it could not have supplied the material. The will of the animal could not determine the quality of the excretion. Add to which, that the shell of the snail, with its pillar and convolution, is a very artificial fabric ; while a snail, as it should seem, is the most numb and unprovided of all arti- ficers. In the midst of vanity, there is hkewise a regularity which could hardly be expected. In the same species of snail, the number of turns is usually, if not always, the same. The sealing up of the mouth of the shell by the snail, is also well calculated for its warmth and security; but the cerate is not of the same substance with the shell. II. Much o f what has been observed of snails belongs tu shell-fish and their shells, particularly to those of the uni- ] valve kind, with the addition of two remarks, one of which is upon the great strength and hardness of most of these shells. I do not know whether, the weight being given, art ean produce so strong a case as are some of these shells; which defensive strength suits well with the life of an ani- mal that has often to sustain the dangers of a stormy element and a rocky bottom, as well as the attacks of voracious fish. The other remark is upon the property, in the animal excre- tion, not only of congealing, but of congealing—or, as a builder would call it, settzng—in water, and into a cretaceous sub- stance, firm and hard. This property is much more extra- ordinary, and, chemically speaking, more specific, than that of hardening in the air, which may be reckoned a kind of exsiccation, like the drying of clay into bricks. Ill. In the ézvalve order of shell-fish, cockles, muscles, oysters, etc., what contrivance can be so simple or so clear as the insertion, at the back, of a tough tendinous substance, Torte rs st +P vewese oegs Ta es eee yee re eae we ee | Se Se eee oa ew teee De ee ee ee eS Es ere Cae ee ee St aad NATURAT THEOLOGY . that becomes at once the hgament which binds the two shells together, and the hzmge upon which they open and shut ? IV. The shell of a lobster’s tail, in its articulations and overlappings, represents the jointed part of a coat of mail; or rather, which I believe to be the truth, a coat of mail is an imitation of a lobster’s shell. The same end is to be answered by both ; the same properties, therefore, are re- quired in both, namely, hardness and flexibility—a covering which may guard the part without obstructing its motion. For this double purpose, the art of man, expressly exercised upon the subject, has not been able to devise any thing better than what nature presents to his observation. Is not this therefore mechanism, which the mechanic, having a similar purpose in view, adopts? Is the structure of a coat of mail to be referred to art? Is the same structure of the lobster, conducing to the same use, to be referred to any thing less than art? Some who may acknowledge the imitation, and assent to the inference which we draw from it in the instance before us, may be disposed, possibly, to ask, why such imitations are not more frequent than they are, if it be true, as we allege, that the same principle of intelligence, design, and mechanical contrivance was exerted in the formation of nat- ural bodies as we employ in the making of the various instru- ments by which our purposes are served? The answers to this question, are, first, that it seldom happens that precisely the same purpose, and no other, is pursued in any works which we compare of nature and of art; secondly, that it still more seldom happens that we cam imitate nature, if we would. Our materials and our workmanship are equally deficient. Springs and wires, and cork and leather, produce a poor substitute for an arm or a hand. In the example which we have selected, I mean a lobster’s shell compared with a coat of mail, these difficulties stand less in the way than in almost any other that can be assigned; and the con-sequence is, as we have seen, that art gladly borrows from nature her contrivance, and imitates it closely. But to return to insects. I think it is in this class of animals, above all others, especially when we take in the multitude of species which the microscope discovers, that we are struck with what Cicero has called “‘ the zzsatzable vari- ety of nature.” There are said by St. Pierre to be six thou- sand species of flies; seven hundred and sixty butterflies ; each different from all the rest. The same writer tells us, from his own observation, that thirty-seven species of winged insects, with distinctions well expressed, visited a single strawberry-plant in the course of three weeks.* Ray ob- served, within. the compass of a mile or two of his own house, two hundred kinds of butterflies, nocturnal and diurnal. He likewise asserts, but I think without any grounds of exact computation, that the number of species of insects, reckoning all sorts of them, may not be short of ten thousand. And in this vast variety of animal forms—for the observation is not confined to msects, though more applicable perhaps to them than to any other class—we are sometimes led to take notice of the different methods, or rather of the studiously diversified methods, by which one and the same purpose is attained. In the article of breathing, for example, which was to be provided for in some way or other, besides the ordi- nary varieties of lungs, gills, and breathing-holes—for insects in general respire, not by the mouth, but through holes in the sides—the nymphe of gnats have an apparatus to raise their backs to the top of the water, and so take breath. The hydrocanthari do the like by thrusting their ¢azls out of the water. The maggot of the eruca labra has a long tail, one part sheathed within another—but which it can draw out at pleasure—with a starry tuft at the end; by which tuft, when expanded upon the surface, the insect both sup- ports itself in the water, and draws in the air which is neces- * Vol. 1, p..3: +t Wisdom of God, p. 23. { Derham, p. 7. 10* et ee eS ee ee ee ee ee eee ee ee ee ee a toe t= Pp ebhbad eae pe tee eee eae pe ae Pe ee ee ee ee te Te Ome eee Gee te Se ees ee ee feae oie ge ad ae bh ee eo ot eer Ee aD si Sesee 226 NATURAL THEOLOGY. sary. In the article of natural clothing, we have the skins of animals invested with scales, hair, feathers, mucus, froth, or itself turned mto a shell or crust. In the no less neces- sary article of offence and defence, we have teeth, talons, beaks, horns, stings, prickles, with—the most singular expe- dient for the same purpose—the power of giving the electric shock, and, as is credibly related of some animals, of driving away their pursuers by an intolerable fetor, or of blackening the water through which they are pursued. The considera- tion of these appearances might induce us to believe that varvety itself, distinct from every other reason, was a motive in the mind of the Creator, or with the agents of his will. To this great variety in organized life the Deity has given, or perhaps there arises out of it, a corresponding vari- ety of animal appetites. For the final cause of this we have not far to seek. Did all animals covet the same element, retreat, or food, it is evident how much fewer could be sup- plied and accommodated than what at present live conven- iently together, and find a plentiful subsistence. What one nature rejects, another delights in. Food which is nauseous to one tribe of animals becomes, by that very property which makes it nauseous, an alluring dainty to another tribe. Carrion is a treat to dogs, ravens, vultures, fish. The ex- halations of corrupted’ substances attract flies by crowds. Maggots revel in putrefaction.PLANES, CUR AP Eih soe. OF PLANTS. I ruink a designed and studied mechanism to be in gen- eral more evident in animals than in plants ; and it is un- necessary to dwell upon a weaker argument where a stronger is at hand. There are, however, a few observations upon the vegetable kingdom which he so directly in our way, that it would be improper to pass by them without notice. The one great intention of nature in the structure of plants, seems to be the perfecting of the seed, and, what is part of the same imtention, the preserving of it until it be perfected. This intention shows itself, in the first place, by the care which appears to be taken to protect and ripen, by every advantage which can be given to them of situation in the plant, those parts which most immediately contribute to fructification, namely, the anthere, the stamina, and the stigmata. These parts are usually lodged in the centre, the recesses, or the labyrinths of the flower; durmg their tender and immature state, are shut up in the stalk, or sheltered in the bud; as soon as they have acquired firmness of texture sufficient to bear exposure, and are ready to perform the important office which is assigned to them, they are disclosed to the light and air by the bursting of the stem or the expan- sion of the petals; after which they have, in many cases, by the very form of the flower during its blow, the hight and warmth reflected upon them from the concave side of the sup. What is called also the sleep of plants, is the leaves or petals disposing themselves in such a manner as to shelter the young stems, buds, or fruit. They turn up, or they fall down, according as this purpose renders either change of position requisite. In the growth of corn, whenever the plant begins to shoot, the two upper leaves of the stalk join together, embrace the ear, and protect it till the pulp has gS pl geese ee gate es TFS Sess sSese se so ee oe ee ee a ee ee coe ett ae Peay Pas pate ee ee eo eee rts9 ae 8 NATURAL Pi ROnOG Y. acquired a certain degree of consistency. In some water- plants, the flowering and fecundation are carried on within the stem, which afterwards opens to let loose the impregna- ted seed.* The pea, or papilionaceous tribe, inclose the parts of fructification within a beautiful folding of the internal blossom, sometimes called, from its shape, the boat or keel— itself also protected under a penthouse formed by the exter- nal petals. This structure is very artificial ; and what adds to the value of it, though it may diminish the curiosity, very general. It has also this further advantage—and it is an advantage strictly mechanical—that all the blossoms turn their dacks to the wind whenever the gale blows strong enough to endanger the delicate parts upon which the seed depends. I have observed this a hundred times in a field of peas in blossom. It is an aptitude which results from the figure of the flower, and, as we have said, is strictly mechan- ical, as much so as the turning of a weather-board or tin cap upon the top of a chimney. Of the poppy, and of many sunilar species of flowers, the head while it is growing hangs down, a rigid curvature in the upper part of the stem giving to it that position ; and im that position it is impenetrable by rain or moisture. When the head has acquired its size and is ready to open, the stalk erects itself for the purpose, as it should seem, of presenting the flower, and with the 4 4 flower the instruments of fructification, to the genial influ- ence of the sun’s rays. This always struck me as a curious property, and specifically as well as originally provided for in the constitution of the plant; for if the stem be only bent by the weight of the head, how comes it to straighten itself y when the head is the heaviest? These instances show the attention of nature to this principal object, the safety and maturation of the parts upon which the seed depends. In trees, especially in those which are natives of colder climates, this pomt is taken up earlier. Many of these trees—observe in particular the ash and the horsechest- * Philosophical Transactions, part II., 1796, p. 502.PLANTS. 229 nul—produce the embryos of the leaves and flowers in one year, and bring them to perfection the following. There is a winter, therefore, to be gotten over. Now, what we are to remark is; how nature has prepared for the trials and severities of that season. These tender embryos are in the ‘irst place wrapped up with a compactness which no art can imitate; in which state they compose what we call the bud. This is not all. The bud itself is inclosed in scales. which scales are formed from the remains of past leaves and the rudiments of future ones. Neither is this the whole. In the coldest climates, a third preservative is added, by the bud having a coat of gum or resin, which being congealed, resists the strongest frosts: On the approach of warm weather, this gum is softened, and ceases to be a hinderance to the expansion of the leaves and flowers. All this eare is part of that system of provisions which has for its object and consummation the production and perfecting of the seeds. The seeps themselves are packed up in a capsule, a vessel composed of coats which, compared with the rest of the flower, are strong and tough. From this vessel projects a tube, through which tube the farina, or some subtile fecun- dating effuvium that issues from it, is admitted to the seed. And here also occurs a mechanical variety, accommodated to the different circumstances under which the same purpose is to be accomplished. In flowers which are erect, the pistil is shorter than the stamina; and the pollen, shed from the anthere into the cup of the flower, is caught in its descent by the head of the pistil, called the stigma. But how is this managed when the flowers hang down, as does the crown-imperial, for instance, and in which position the farina, in its fall, would be carried from the stigma, and not towards it? The relative length of the parts is now invert- ed. The pistil in these flowers is usually longer, instead of shorter, than the stamina, that its protruding summit may receive the pollen as it drops to the ground. In some cases, as in the mzgella, where the shafts of the pistils or styles are a See ee ees ee PEwS PE esemaven mcsweS ES PL DSRS aaa af ee Se ee ee Se ee ee eedel ots eee r] iS ckeae se tee eee eke eee Se ee ee ee ee te ed pe Pe Rese Se Sead clan tk eee a a NATURAL THEOLOGY. 230 disproportionably long, they bend down their extremities upon the anthere, that the necessary approximation may be effected. But, to pursue this great work in its progress, the im- pregnation, to which all this machinery relates, being com- pleted, the other parts of the flower fade and drop off, while the gravid seed-vessel, on the contrary, proceeds to in¢rease its bulk, always to a great, and in some species—in the gourd, for example, and melon—to a surprising comparative size ; assuming in different plants an incalculable variety of forms, but all evidently conducing to the security of the seed. By virtue of this process, so necessary, but so diver- sified, we have the seed at length in stone-fruits and nuts encased in a strong shell, the shell itself inclosed in a pulp or husk, by which the seed within is or has been fed; or more generally, as in grapes, oranges, and the numerous kinds of berries, plunged overhead in a glutinous syrup con- tained within a skin or bladder; at other times, as in apples and pears, embedded: in the heart of a firm, fleshy sub- stance, or, a8 m strawberries, pricked into the surface of a soft pulp. These and many more varieties exist m what we call fruits.* In pulse and grain and grasses, in trees and shrubs * From the conformation of fruits alone, one might be led, even without experience, to suppose that part of this provision was destined for the utilities of animals. As limited to the plant, the provision itself seems to go beyond its object. The flesh of an apple, the pulp of an orange, the meat of a plum, the fatness of the olive, appear to be move than sufficient for the nourishing of the seed or kernel. The event shows that this redundancy, if it be one, ministers to the sup- port and gratification of animal natures; and when we observe a pro- vision to be morg than sufficient for one purpose, yet wanted for an- other purpose, it is not unfair to conclude that both purposes were contemplated together. It favors this view of the subject to remark, that fruits are not, which they might have been, ready all together, but that they ripen in succession throughout a great part of the year; some in summer, some in autumn; that some require the slow matu- ration of the winter, and supply the spring; also, that the coldestand flowers, the variety of the seed-vessels is incomputable. We have the seeds, as in the pea tribe, regularly disposed in parchment pods, which, though soft and membranous, com- pletely exclude the wet, even in the heaviest rains; the pod also, not seldom, as in the bean, lined with a fine down ; at other times, as in the senna, distended like a blown bladder ; or we have the seed enveloped in wool, as in the cotton- plant, lodged, as in pines, between the hard and compact scales of a cone, or barricaded, as in the artichoke and thistle, with spikes and prickles; im mushrooms, placed under a penthouse; in ferns, within slits in the back part of the leaf; or, which is the most general organization of all, we find them covered by strong, close tunicles, and at- tached to the stem according to an order appropriated to each plant, as is seen in the several kinds of grains and of grasses. In which enumeration, what we have first to notice is, unity of purpose under variety of expedients. Nothing can be more s¢mgle than the design, more diversified than the means. Pellicles, shells, pulps, pods, husks, skin, scales armed with thorns, are all employed in prosecuting the same intention. Setondly, we may observe, that in all these fruits grow in the hottest places. Cucumbers, pineapples, melons, are the natural produce of warm climates, and contribute greatly, by their coolness, to the refreshment of the inhabitants of those countries. I will add to this note the following observation, communicated to me by Mr. Brinkley. ‘The eatable part of the cherry or peach first serves the purposes of perfecting the seed or kernel, by means of vessels passing through the stone, and which are very visible in a peach-stone. After the kernel is perfected, the stone becomes hard, and the vessels cease their functions; but the substance surrounding the stone is not then thrown away as useless. That which was before only an instrument for per- fecting the kernel, now receives and retains to itself the whole of the sun’s influence, and thereby becomes a grateful food to man. Also, what an evident mark of design is the stone protecting the kernel. The intervention of the stone prevents the second use from interfering with the first.” LANTS. 934. Pee eet PS Peed oe ee ge lays TPS eo es etsy ree er ee ee es os co Pee ee ee Pe ee ee ee ee eee ee en ee eee ee ee seat Soke eee et rig et ees re 202 NATURAU THEOLOGY. cases the purpose is fulfilled within a just and limzted de- gree. We can perceive, that if the seeds of plants were more strongly guarded than they are, their greater security would interfere with other uses. Many species of animals would suffer, and many perish, if-they could not obtain ac- cess to them. The plant would overrun the soil, or the seed be wasted for want of room to sow itself. It is sometimes as necessary to destroy particular species of plants, as it is at other times to encourage their growth. Here, as in many cases, a balance is to be maintained between opposite uses. The provisions for the preservation of seeds appear to be directed chiefly against the inconstancy of the elements, or the sweeping destruction of inclement seasons. The depre- dation of animals and the injuries of accidental violence are allowed for in the abundance of the increase. The result is, that out of the many thousand different plants which cover the earth, not a single species, perhaps, has been lost since the creation. When nature has perfected her seeds, her next care is to disperse them. The seed cannot answer its purpose while it remains confined in the capsule. After the seeds therefore are ripened, the pericarpium opens to let them out; and the opening is not like an accidental bursting, but for the most part, is according to a certain rule in each plant. What I _have always thought very extraordinary, nuts and shells which we can hardly crack with our teeth, divide and make way for the little tender sprout which proceeds from the kernel. Handling the nut, I could hardly conceive how the plantule was ever to get out of it. There are caps, it is said, in which the seed-vessel, by an elastic jerk at the moment of its explosion, casts the seeds to a distance. We all however know, that many seeds—those of most composite flowers, as of the thistle, dandelion, ete.—are endowed with what are not improperly called wzngs; that is, downy ap- pendages, by which they are enabled to float in the air, and are carried oftentimes by the wind to great distances fro MY itdPLANTA, pa the plant which produces them. It is the swelling also of this downy tuft within the seed-vessel, that seems to over- come the resistance of its coats, and to open a passage for the seed to escape. But the constitution of seeds is still more admirable than either their preservation or their dispersion. In the body of the seed of every species of plant, or nearly of every one, provision is made for two grand purposes: first, for the safety of the germ; secondly, for the temporary support of the future plant. The sprout, as folded up in the seed, is delicate and brittle beyond any other substance. It cannot be touched without being broken. Yet in beans, pease, erass-seeds, grain, fruits, it is so fenced on all sides, so shut up and protected, that while the seed itself is rudely handled, tossed into sacks, shovelled into heaps, the sacred particle, the miniature plant, remains unhurt. It is wonderful how long many kinds of seeds, by the help of their integuments, and perhaps of their oils, stand out against decay. A grain of mustard-seed has been known to he in the earth for a hundred years; and as soon as it had acquired a favorable situation, to shoot as vigorously as if just gathered from the plant. Then as to the second point, the temporary support of the future plant, the matter stands thus. In grain and pulse, and kernels and pippins, the germ composes a very small part of the seed. The rest consists of a nutritious substance, from which the sprout draws its aliment for some considerable time after it is put forth, namely, until the fibres shot out from the other end of the seed are able to imbibe juices from the earth in a sufficient quantity for its demand. It is owing to this constitution that we see seeds sprout, and the sprouts make a considerable progress with- out any earth at all. It is an economy also, in which we remark a close analogy between the seeds of plants and the eggs of animals. The same point is provided for in the same manner in both. In the egg, the residence of the liv- ing principle, the cicatrix, forms a very minute part of the cs Ya e re Se ear . ad Sele Sassel Wasps Pre es sSeSess FEET TT Dek Eee RES ASS FORSHEE SHEE Seese eee See ee ee ey ee fee Semen rg oe ee re es a Ne ee ee ea ee ed a ee St oe See ee ee ee eeSer rt Shes 204 NATURAL THEOLOGY. contents. The white, and the white only, is expended in the formation of the chicken. The yolk, very little altered or diminished, is wrapped up in the abdomen of the young bird when it quits the shell, and serves for its nourishment till it has learned to pick its own food. This perfectly resembles the first nutrition of a plant. In the plant, as well as in the animal, the structure has every character of contrivance belonging to it: in both, it breaks the transition from prepared to unprepared aliment; in both, it is prospec- tive and compensatory. In animals which suck, this inter- mediate nourishment is supplied by a different source. In all subjects the most common observations are the best, when it is their truth and strength which have made them common. There are, of this sort, two concerning plants, which it falls within our plan to notice. The jirst relates to what has already been touched upon, their germination. When a grain of corn is cast into the sround, this-is the change which takes place. From one end of the grain issues a green sprout; from the other, a number of white fibrous threads. How can this be explained ? Why not sprouts from both ends; why not fibrous threads from both ends? To what is the difference to be referred, but to de- sign; to the different uses which the parts are thereafter to serve—uses which discover themselves in the sequel of the process? The sprout, or plumule, struggles into the air, and becomes the plant, of which from the first it contained the rudiments ; the fibres shoot into the earth, and thereby both fix the plant to the ground, and collect nourishment from the soil for its support. Now, what is not a little remarkable, the parts issuing from the seed take their re- spective directions into whatever position the seed itself hap- pens to be cast. If the seed be thrown into the wrongest possible position, that is, if the ends point in the ground the reverse of what they ought to do, every thing nevertheless goes on right. The sprout, after being pushed down a little way, makes a bend, and turns upwards; the fibres, on thePLANTS. 230 contrary, after shooting at first upwards, turn down. Of this extraordinary vegetable, fact, an account has lately been attempted to be given. ‘The plumule,” it is said, “1s stimulated by the ai into action, and elongates itself when it is thus most excited; the radicle is stimulated by mozst- ure, and elongates itself when 2z¢ is thus most excited. Whence one of these grows upward in quest of its adapted object,and the other downward.’’* Were this account bet- ter verified by experiment than it is, it only shifts the con- trivance. It does not disprove the contrivance ; it only re- moves it a little further back. Who, to use our author’s own language, ‘adapted the objects?”” Who gave such a quality to these connate parts, as to be susceptible of dzffer- ent “stimulation ;’ as to be ‘‘excited” each only by its own element, and precisely by that which the success of the veg- etation requires? I say, ‘‘ which the success of the vegeta- tion requires,’ for the toil of the husbandman would have been in vain, his laborious and expensive preparation of the eround in vain, if the event must, after all, depend upon the position in which the scattered seed was sown. Not one seed out of a hundred would fall in a right direction. Our second observation is upon a general property of climbing plants, which is strictly mechanical. In these plants, from each knot or-joint, or as botanists call it, axilla, of the plant, issue, close to each other, two shoots, one bear- ing the flower and fruit, the other drawn out into a wire, a long, tapering, spiral tendril, that twists itself round any thing which lies within its reach. Considering that in this class two purposes are to be provided for, and together— fructification and support, the fruitage of the plant and the sustentation of the stalk—-what means could be used more effectual, or, as I have said, more mechanical, than what this structure presents to our eyes? Why, or how, without a view to this double purpose, do two shoots, of such differ- ent and appropriate forms, spring from the same joint, from * Darwin’s Phytologia, p. 144. erreer seer rts ee eee et Pre eee ee eee ee ee ee a Se ee wis A a AR ee Eda Ce Pe ee te et Se ere oe ee ee ieee ee ee eee ee 2. ee Se ee ee en ee ee ee ee eeeee Le Te se ee es ee re es ee eee oe - to Set eSeips SH as ss ST sReyes, = eae eat ed Pewee een G5 eee 206 NATURAL THEOLOGY. contiguous points of the same stalk? It never happens thus in robust plants, or in trees. 4‘ We see not,” says Ray, ‘so much as one tree, or shrub, or herb, that has a firm and strong stem, and that is able to mount up and stand alone without assistance, furnished with these tendrils.’ Make only so simple a comparison as that between a pea and a bean. Why does the pea put forth tendrils, the bean not, but because the stalk of the pea cannot support itself, the stalk of the bean can? We may add also, as a circum- stance not to be overlooked, that, in the pea tribe, these clasps do not make their appearance till they are wanted— till the plant has grown to a height to stand in need of support. This word “support” suggests to us a reflection upon a property of grasses, of corn, and canes. The hollow stems of these classes of plants are set at certain intervals with joints. These joints are not found in the trunks of trees, or in the solid stalks of plants. There may be other uses of these joints; but the fact is, and it appears to be at least one purpose designed by them, that they corroborate the stem, which by its length and hollowness would otherwise be too lable to break or bend. Grasses are Nature’s care. With these she clothes the earth ; with these she sustains its inhabitants, Cattle feed upon their leaves; birds upon their smaller seeds; men upon the larger; for few readers need be told that the plants which produce our bread-corn belong to this class. In those tribes which are more generally considered as grasses, their extraordinary means and powers of preserva- tion and increase, their hardiness, their almost unconquer- able disposition to spread, their faculties of reviviscence, co- incide with the intention of nature concerning them. They thrive under a treatment by which other plants are destroy- ed. The more their leaves are consumed, the more their roots imerease. The more they are trampled upon, the thicker they grow. Many of the seemingly dry and deadPLANTS. 2o4 leaves of grasses revive, and renew their verdure in the Pee seeSzEeoe FS PTe spring. In lofty mountains, where the summer heats are not sufficient to ripen the seeds, grasses abound which are viviparous, and consequently able to propagate themselves without seed. It is an observation, likewise, which has often dee oad smekge cea been made, that herbivorous animals attach themselves to the leaves of grasses; and if at liberty in their pastures to range and choose, leave untouched the straws which support the flowers.* The GENERAL properties of vegetable nature, or proper- pied Set ee Se ee ae oe ties common to large portions of that kingdom, are almost all which the compass of our argument allows us to bring forward. It is impossible to follow plants into their several species. We may be allowed, however, to single out three or four of these species as worthy of a particular notice, ee ee ee ee ee ee either by some singular mechanism, or by some peculiar provision, or by both. I. In Dr. Darwin’s Botanic Garden, vol. 1, p. 395, note, is the following account of the vallzsneria, as it has been ob- served in the river Rhone. ‘“ They have roots at the bottom a of the Rhone. The flowers of the female plant float on the surface of the water, and are furnished with an elastic spiral 8 stalk, which extends or contracts as the water rises or falls ; a this rise or fall, from the torrents which flow into the river, often amounting to many feet in a few hours. The flowers of the male plant are produced under water; and as soon as the fecundating farina is mature, they separate them- selves from the plant, rise to the surface, and are wafted by the air, or borne by the currents, to the female flowers.” Our attention in this narrative will be directed to two par- ticulars : first, to the mechanism, the “elastic spiral stalk,” which lengthens or contracts itself according as the water ee ee ee ee Pe ee oe ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ek ee ee ta rises or falls; secondly, to the provision which is made for bringing the male flower, which is produced wnder water, to the female flower, which floats upon the surface. jet eebsastaaoeeseaes * Withering’s Botanical Arrangement, vol. I., p. 28, edit. 2.NATURAL THEOLOGY. II. My second example I take from Withering’s Ar- rangement, vol. 2, p. 209, edit..3. “ The cuscuta ewropea is a parasitical plant. The seed opens and puts forth a /zttle spiral body, which does not seek the earth to take root, but climbs in a spiral direction, from right to left, up other plants, from which, by means of vessels, it draws its nour- ishment.” The “little spiral body”? proceeding from the seed, is to be compared with the fibres which seeds send out in ordinary cases ; and the comparison ought to regard both the form of the threads and the direction. They are straight, this is spiral. They shoot downwards, this points up- wards. In the rule and in the exception we equally per- ceive design. Ill. A better known parasitical plant is the evergreen shrub called the mistletoe. What we have to remark in it is a singular instance of compensation. No art has yet made these plants take root in the earth. Here, therefore, might seem to be a mortal defect in their constitution. Let us examine how this defect is made up to them. The seeds are endued with an adhesive quality so tenacious, that if they be rubbed upon the smooth bark of almost any tree, they will stick to it. And then what follows? Roots, springing from these seeds, insinuate their fibres into the woody substance of the tree ; and the event is, that a mis- tletoe plant is produced next winter.* Of no other plant do the roots refuse to shoot in the ground—of no other plant do the seeds possess this adhesive, generative quality, when applied to the bark of trees. IV. Another instance of the compensatory system is m the autumnal crocus or meadow-saflron, colchicum autwin- male. 1 have pitied this poor plant a thousand times. Its blossom rises out of the ground in the most forlorn condi- tion possible, without a sheath, a fence, a calyx, or even a leaf to protect it ; and that not in the spring, not to be visited by summer suns, but under all the disadvantages of the de- * Withering’s Botan. Arr., vol. I., p. 203, edit. 2.PRANTS. clining year. When we come, however, to look more closely into the structure of this plant, we find that, instead of its being neglected, nature has gone out of her course to pro- vide for its security, and to make up to it for all its defects. The seed-vessel, which in other plants is situated within the cup of the flower, or just beneath it, in this plant lies buried ten or twelve inches under ground, within the bulbous root. The tube of the flower, which is seldom more than a few tenths of an inch long, in this plant extends down to the root. The styles in all cases reach the seed-vessel; but it is in this, by an elongation unknown to any other plant. All these singularities contribute to one end. “As this plant blossoms late in the year, and probably would not have time to ripen its seeds before the access of winter, which would destroy them, Providence has contrived its structure such, that this important office may be performed at a depth in the earth out of reach of the usual effects of frost.”"* That is to say, in the autumn nothing is done above ground but the business of impregnation; which is an affair between the anthere and the stigmata, and is probably soon over. The maturation of the impregnated seed, which in other plants proceeds within a capsule, exposed together with the rest of the flower to the open air, is here carried on, and during the whole winter, within the heart, as we may say, of the earth, that is, ‘‘out of the reach of the usual effects of frost.” But then a new difficulty presents itself. Seeds, though perfected, are known not to vegetate at this depth in the earth. Our seeds, therefore, though so safely lodged, would, after all, be lost to the purpose for which all seeds are intended. Lest this should be the case, ‘‘a second ad- mirable provision is made to raise them above the surface when they are perfected, and to sow them at a proper dis- tance,” namely, the germ grows up 7 the spring, upon a fruit-stalk, accompanied with leaves. The seeds now, in common with those of other plants, have the benefit of the Withering’s Botan. Arr., vol. [., p. 360. RS eee ey Sele eessaee Gets sss he Gesesst Sees ee eee ee ae eS ee ee Say a ee ee ee aire ety ee Pe ee ary ne Retest heb ewatennciegé eee rr ee eeNea one eee sHiSeseu ee es eo ee oot — 240 NATURAL THEOLOGY. summer, and are sown upon the surface. The order of vegetation externally is this: the plant produces its flowers in September; its leaves and fruits in the spring following. Y. I give the account of the dione@a muscipula, an extraordinary American plant, as some late authors have related it; but whether we be yet enough acquainted with the plant to bring every part of this account to the test of repeated and familiar observation, [ am unable to say. “Its leaves are jointed, and furnished with two rows of strong prickles ; their surfaces covered with a number of minute glands, which secrete a sweet liquor that allures the ap- proach of flies. When these parts are touched by the legs of flies, the two lobes of the leaf instantly spre up, the rows of prickles lock themselves fast together, and squeeze the unwary animal to death.”* Here, under a new model, we recognize the ancient plan of nature, namely, the rela- tion of parts and provisions to one another, to a common office, and to the utility of the organized body to which they belong. The attracting syrup, the rows of strong prickles, their position so as-to interlock the joints of the leaves, and, what is more than the rest, that singular irritability of their surfaces, by which they close at a touch, all bear a con- tributory part in producing an effect, connected either with the defence or with the nutrition of the plant. * Smellie’s Philosophy of Natural History, vol. I. p. 5.THE ELEMENTS. CHAP TR gx eT. THE ELEMENTS. WHEN we come to the elements we take leave of our mechanics, because we come to those things, of the organi- zation of which, if they be organized, we are confessedly ignorant. This ignorance is implied by their name. To say the truth, our investigations are stopped long before we arrive at this point. But then it is for our comfort to find that a knowledge of the constitution of the elements is not necessary for us. For instance, as Addison has well observ- ed, “‘ We know zvater sufficiently, when we know how to boil, how to freeze, how to evaporate, how to make it fresh, how to make it run or spout out in what quantity and direction we please, without knowing what water is.” The observation of this excellent writer has more propriety in it now, than it had at the time it was made; for the consti- tution and the constituent parts of water appear in some measure to have been lately discovered ; yet it does not, I think, appear that we can make any better or greater use of water since the discovery, than we did before it. We can never think of the elements without reflecting upon the number of distinct uses which are consolidated in the same substance. The air supplies the lungs, supports fire, conveys sound, reflects light, diffuses smells, gives rain, wafts ships, bears up birds. ’EE idaroc ra ravta: Water, be- sides maintaining its own inhabitants, is the universal nour- isher of plants, and through them of terrestrial animals; is the basis of their juices and fluids ; dilutes their food ; quench- es their thirst ; floats their burdens. Fre warms, dissolves, enlightens ; is the great promoter of vegetation and life, if not necessary to the support of both. We might enlarge, to almost any length we please, upon each of these uses; but it appears to me sufficient to state them. The few remarks which I judge it necessary to add, are, Nat. Theol. 11 eam. . .paeeresesen > oper ere tec rit i iti ti tri rs eset hsb S a ee es a Se se i fo fe a Se eee ee eT ee eee a ee nS eee ee ee eo ee ee ee ee eee es |Leta ee eee ree, re soe Se aes ee ee ree ee ee oe ae ee ed POR, ill 242 NATURAL THEOLOGY I. Air is essentially different from earth. There appears to be no necessity for aw atmosphere’s mvesting our globe, yet it does invest it ; and we see how many, how various, and how important are the purposes which it answers to every order of animated, not to” say of organized beings, which are placed upon the terrestrial surface. I think that every one of these uses will be understood upon the first mention of them, except it be that of reflecting light, which may be explained thus: If I had the power of seeing only by means of rays coming directly from the sun, whenever [ turned my back upon the luminary | should find myself in darkness. Jf I had the j yet by means only of light reflected from solid masses, these ower of seeing by reflected light, masses would shine indeed, and glisten, but it would be in the dark. The hemisphere, the sky, the world, could only be zlluminated, as it is illuminated, by.the light of the sun being from all sides, and in every direction, reflected to the eye by particles as numerous, as thickly scattered, and as widely diffused, as are those of the air. Another general quality of the atmosphere is the power of evaporating fluids. The adjustment of this quality to our use is seen in its action upon the sea. In the sea, water and salt are mixed together most intimately ; yet the atmosphere raises the water and leaves the salt. Pure and fresh as drops of rain descend, they are collected from brine. . If evapora- tion be solution—which seems to be probable—then the air dissolves the water, and not the salt. Upon whatever it be founded, the distinction is critical: so much so, that when we attempt to imitate the process by art, we must regulate our distillation with great care and nicety, or, together with the water, we get the bitterness, or at least the distasteful- ness of the marine substance ; and, after all, it is owimg to this original elective power in the air, that we can effect the separation which we wish, by any art or means whatever. By evaporation, water is cared up into the air; by the converse of evaporation, it falls down upon the earth. AndTHE ELEMENTS. 243 how does it fall? Not by the clouds being all at once re- converted into water, and descending like a sheet; not in rushing down in columns from a spout; but in moderate drops, as from a colander. Our watering-pots are made to imitate showers of rain. Yet, a prior, I should have thought either of the two former methods more likely to have taken place than the last. By respiration, flame, putrefaction, air is rendered unfit for the support of animal life. By the constant operation of these corrupting principles, the whole atmosphere, if there were no restoring gauses, would come at length to be de- prived of its necessary degree of purity. Some of these causes seem to have been discovered, and their efficacy ascertained by experiment ; and so far as the discovery has proceeded, it opens to us a beautiful and a wonderful economy. Vegeta- dion proves to be one of them. A sprig of mint, corked up with a small portion of foul air and placed in the light, renders it again capable of supporting light or flame. Here, there- fore, is a constant circulation of benefits maintained between the two great provinces of organized nature. The plant purifies what the animal has poisoned; in return, the con- taminated air is more than ordinarily nutritious to the plant. Agitation with water turns out to be another of these resto- ratives. The foulest air, shaken in a bottle with water for a sufficient length of time, recovers a great degree of its purity. Here then, again, allowing for the scale upon which nature works, we see the salutary effects of storms and temzpests. The yeasty waves which confound the heaven and the sea, are domg the very thing which was done in the bottle. Nothing can be of greater importance to the living creation, than the salubrity of their atmosphere. It ought to recon- cile us, therefore, to these agitations of the elements, of which we sometimes deplore the consequences, to know that they tend powerfully to restore to the air that purity which so many causes are constantly impairing. II. In water, what ought not a little to be admired, are . ee Cer reer eer Pee ore eee rt Tes se COS e hk BE ae ee ee eee ee ee ie ee ee ee ees she Nee dies TST ees ee ee et eee eC Sa ea TENE PL ee Cee ee PE ee ee Tee FO ETS Serre Se eee ee eeae Pee ae ieee eee eee ee Ei il ae Or Stes esesy PAs sssesives, O44 - NATURAL THEOLOGY. those negative qualities which constitute its purity. Had it been vinous, or oleaginous, or acid—had the sea been filled, or the rivers flowed with wine or milk, fish, constituted as they are, must have died; plants, constituted as they are, would have withered ; the lives of animals which feed upon plants must have perished. Its very znseprdity, which is one of those negative qualities, renders it the best of all men- strua. Having no taste of its own, it becomes the sincere vehicle of every other. Had there been a taste in water, be it what it might, it would have infected every thing we ate or drank, with an‘importunate repetition of the same flavor. Another thing in this element not less to be admired, is the constant vownd which it travels; and by which, with- out suffering either adulteration or waste, it is continually offering itself to the wants of the habitable globe. From the sea are exhaled those vapors which form the clouds: these ~ clouds descend in showers, which penetrating into the crevi- ces of the hills, supply springs ; which springs flow in little streams into the valleys, and there unitmg, become rivers; which rivers, mm return, feed the ocean. So there is an inces- sant circulation of the same fluid; and not one drop proba- bly more or less now than there was at the creation. A par- ticle of water takes its departure from the surface of the sea, in order to fulfil certain important offices to the earth; and having executed the service which was assigned to it, returns to the bosom which it left. Some have thought that we have too much water upon the globe, the sea occupying above three-quarters of its whole surface. But the expanse of ocean, immense as it is, may be no more than sufficient to fertilize the earth. Or, inde- pendently of this reason, 1 know not why the sea may not have as good a right to its place as the land. It may pro- portionably support as many inhabitants—aminister to as large an ageregate of enjoyment. The land only affords a habita- ble surface ; the sea is habitable to a great depth.THE ELEMENTS. 245 III. Of fire, we have said that it dissolves. The only idea probably which this term raised in the reader’s mind, was that of fire melting metals, resins, and some other sub- stances, fluxing ores, running glass, and assisting us In many of our operations, chemical or culinary. Now these are only uses of an occasional kind, and give us a very imperfect no- tion of what fire does for us. The grand importance of this dissolving power, the great office indeed of fire in the econo- my of nature, is keeping things in a state of solution, that is to say, in a state of fluidity. Were it not for the presence of heat, or of a certain degree of it, all fluids would be frozen. The ocean itself would be a quarry of ice ; universal nature stiff and dead. We see, therefore, that the elements bear not only a strict relation to the constitution of organized bodies, but a relation to each other. Water could not perform its office to the earth without air; nor exist as water, without fire. IV. Of light, whether we regard it as of the same sub- stance with fire, or as a different substance, it is altogether superfluous to expatiate upon the use. No man disputes it. The observations, therefore, which I shall offer, respect that little which we seem to know of its constitution. Light travels from the sun at the rate of twelve millions of miles in a minute. Urged by such a velocity, with what I will not say the eye, force must its particles drive against the tenderest of animal substances—but every substance, animate or inanimate, which stands in its way! It might seem to be a force sufficient to shatter to atoms the hard- est bodies. How then is this effect, the consequence of such prodig- ious velocity, guarded against? By a proportionable mz- nuteness of the particles of which light is composed. It is impossible for the human mind to imagine to itself any thing so small as a particle of light. But this extreme exility, though difficult to conceive, it is easy to prove. A drop of tallow, expended in the wick of a farthing candle, shall send ‘ 3 22S eli voddsS oe gatagigresesess eee tetas ee roe Pe ee ee ee en ee ee ae)Peete ee ae eee ee Cae ee itl 246 NATURAL THEOLOGY. forth rays sufficient to fill a hemisphere of a mile diameter ; and to fill it so full of these rays, that an aperture not larger than the pupil of an eye, wherever it be placed within the hemisphere, shall be sure to receive some of them. What floods of light are continually poured from the sun, we can- not estimate ; but the immensity of the sphere which is filled with particles, even if it reached no further than the orbit of the earth, we can in some sort compute ; and we have rea- son to believe, that throughout this whole region, the parti- cles of light le, in latitude at least, near to one another. The spissitude of the sun’s rays at the earth is such, that the number which falls upon a burning-glass of an inch diame- ter is sufficient, when concentrated, to set wood on fire. The tenuity and the velocity of particles of light, as ascertained by separate observations, may be said to be pro- portioned to each other; both surpassmg our utmost stretch of comprehension, but proportioned. And it is this propor- tion alone which converts a tremendous element into a wel- come visitor. It has been observed to me by a learned friend, as hav- ing often struck his mind, that if ght had been made by ¢ common artist, it would have been of one uniform color ; whereas, by its present composition, we have-that variety of colors which is of such infinite use to us for the distinguish- ing of objects—which adds so much to the beauty of the earth, and augments the stock of our innocent pleasures. With which may be jomed another reflection, namely, that considering hght as compounded of rays of seven differ- ent colors—of which there can be no doubt, because it can be resolved into these rays by simply passing it through a prism—the constituent parts must be well mixed and blended together to produce a fluid so clear and colorless as a beam of ight is, when received from the sun. cASTRONOMY. CHAPTER: OX EE ASTRONOMY.* My opinion of Astronomy has always been, that it is not the best medium through which to prove the agency of an intelligent Creator; but that, this being proved, it shows, beyond all other sciences, the magnificence of his operations. The mind which is once convinced, it raises to sublimer views of the Deity than any other subject affords; but it is not so well adapted as some other subjects are to the pur- pose of areument. We are destitute of the means of exam- ining the constitution of the heavenly bodies. The very simplicity-of their appearance is against them. We see nothing but bright points, luminous circles, or the phases of spheres reflecting the light which falls upon them. Now we deduce design from relation, aptitude, and correspond- ence of parts. Some degree, therefore, of complexity is nec- essary to render a subject fit for this species of argument. But the heavenly bodies do not, except perhaps in the in- stance of Saturn’s ring, present themselves to our observation as compounded of parts at all. This, which may be a per- fection in them, is a disadvantage to us as inquirers after their nature. They do not come within our mechanics. And what we say of their forms, is true of their motzon0s. Their motions are carried on without any sensible interme- diate apparatus; whereby we are cut off from one prin- cipal ground of argumentation—analogy. We have nothing wherewith to compare them—no invention, no discovery, no operation or resource of art, which, in this respect, resem- bles them. Even those things which are made to imitate and represent them, such as orreries, planetaria, celestial * For the articles of this chapter marked with an asterisk, I am indebted to some obliging communications received, through the hands of the Lord Bishop of Elphin, from the Rev. J. Brinkley, M. A., An- drews Professor of Astronomy in the University of Dublin. HPS 4 pon ledeesdei ga tens Fr0 5s aSaE tSS FET EFS VS sSeSigdebavseravar ae eee ee eee ee eS ee ae a Se ee ee ee ee | ee eee ee eee ee ee a etCee Se ee ek a teas oe ill 248 NATURAL ETRE OLOGY. globes, etc., bear no affinity to them, in the cause and prin- ciple by which their motions are actuated. I can assign for this difference a reason of utility, namely, a reason why, though the action of terrestrial bodies upon each other be, in almost all cases, through the intervention of solid or fluid substances, yet central attraction does not operate in this manner. It was necessary that the intervals between the planetary orbs should be devoid of any zvert matter, either fluid or solid, because such an intervening substance would, by its resistance, destroy those very motions which attrac- tion is employed to preserve. This may be a final cause of the difference ; but still the difference destroys the analogy. Our ignorance, moreover, of the sensitive natures by which other planets are inhabited, necessarily keeps from us the knowledge of numberless utilities, relations, and subser- viences, which we perceive upon our own globe. After all, the real subject of admiration is, that we un- derstand so much of astronomy as we do. That an animal confined to the surface of one of the planets, bearing a less proportion to it than the smallest microscopic insect does to the plant it lives upon—that this little, busy, inquisitive creature, by the use of senses which were given to it for its domestic necessities, and by means of the assistance of those senses which it has had the art to procure, should have been enabled to observe the whole system of worlds to which its own belongs and the changes of place of the immense globes which compose it, and with such accuracy as to mark out beforehand the situation in the heavens in which they will be found at any future point of time ; and that these bodies, after sailing through regions of void and trackless space, should arrive at the place where they were expected, not within a minute, but within a few seconds of a minute, of the time prefixed and predicted: all this is wonderful, whether we refer our admiration to the constancy of the heavenly motions themselves, or to the perspicacity and pre- cision with which they have been noticed by mankind.ASTRONOMY. 249 Nor is this the whole, nor indeed the chief part of what astronomy teaches. By bringing reason to bear upon obser- vation, the acutest reasoning upon the exactest observation, the astronomer has been able, out of the ‘“‘ mystic dance,’ and the confusion—for such it is—under which the motions of the heavenly bodies present themselves to the eye of a mere gazcer upon the skies, to elicit. their order and their real paths. Our knowledge, therefore, of astronomy is admirable, though imperfect; and, amid the confessed desiderata and desideranda which impede our investigation of the wisdom of the Deity in these the grandest of his works, there are to be found, in the phenomena, ascertained circumstances and laws sufficient to indicate an intellectual agency in three of its principal operations, namely, in choosing, in determining, in regulating : in choosing, out of a boundless variety of sup- positions which were equally possible, that which is bene- ficial ; in determining what, left to itself, had a thousand chances against conveniency, for one in its favor; in rege- lateng subjects, as to quantity and degree, which, by their nature, were unlimited with respect to either. It will be our business to offer, under each of these heads, a few instan- ces, such as best admit of a popular explication. I. Among proofs of choice, one is, fixing the source of light and heat in the centre of the system. The sun is ignited and luminous; the planets, which move round him, are cold and dark. There seems to be no antecedent neces- sity for this order. The sun might have been an opaque mass ; some one, or two, or more, or any, or all the planets, globes of fire. There is nothing in the nature of the heay- enly bodies which requires that those which are stationary should be on fire, that those which move should be cold ; for, in fact, comets are bodies on fire, or at least capable of the most intense heat, yet revolve round a centre ; nor does this order obtain between the primary planets and their sec- ondaries, which are all opaque. When we consider, there- 11% Sei eedssdeigetaee eee sesseseseteF ee re eee ee we ee ee FG ESSE CH OMS HS eh SEGA SHS Se EEA pepews sie ss eet ee ee ee eee ys ee Le eal a. . Se ae ee eetCe eer Tie y Rien Teer era PP SPae ss Se sevesss estes psp ssepe ress ipa peer eae (i 250 NATURAL THEOLOGY. fore, that the sun is one ; that the planets going round it are at least seven; that it is indifferent to their nature which are luminous and which are opaque ; and also in what order, with respect to each other, these two kinds of bodies are dis- posed, we may judge of the improbability of the present arrangement taking place by chance. It, by way of accounting for the state in which. we find the solar system, it be allezed—and this is one among the guesses of those who reject an intelligent Creator—that the planets themselves are only cooled or cooling masses, and were once like the sun, many thousand times hotter than red hot iron; then it follows, that the sun also himself must be in his progress towards growing cold, which puts an end to the possibility of his having existed as he is from eternity. This consequence arises out of the hypothesis with still more certainty, if we make a part of it what the philosophers who maintain it have usually taught, that the planets were orig- inally masses of matter, struck off in a state of fusion from the body of the sun by the percussion of a comet, or by a shock from some other cause with which we are not ac- quainted ; for if these masses, partaking of the nature and substance of the sun’s body. have in process of time lost their heat, that body itself, in time likewise, no matter in how much longer time, must lose its heat also, and therefore be incapable of an eternal duration in the state in which we see it, either for the time to come, or the time past. The preference of the present to any other mode of dis- tributing luminous and opaque bodies, I take to be evident. It requires more astronomy than I am able to lay before the reader to show, in its particulars, what would be the eflect to the system, of a dark body at the centre and one of the planets being lumimous; but I think it manifest, without either plates or calculation, first, that supposing the neces- sary proportion of magnitude between the central and the revolving bodies to be preserved, the ignited planet would not be sufficient to illuminate and warm the rest of the svs- -ASTRONOMY. 291] tem ; secondly, that its light and heat would be imparted to the other planets much more irregularly than hght and heat are now received from the sun. (*) II. Another thing, in which a choice appears to be exercised, and in which, among the possibilities out of which the choice was to be made, the number of those which were wrong -bore an infinite proportion to the number of those which were right, is in what geometricians call the axis of rotation. This matter I will endeavor to explain. The earth, it is well known, is not an exact globe, but an oblate spheroid, something like an orange. Now the axes of rota- tion, or the diameters upon which such a body may be made to turn round, are as many as can be drawn through its centre to opposite points upon its whole surface ; but of these axes none are permanent, except either its shortest diameter, that is, that which passes through the heart of the orange from the place where the stalk is inserted into it, and which is but one; or its longest diameters, at right angles with the former, which must all terminate in the single circumference which goes round the thickest part of the orange. The shortest diameter is that upon which in fact the earth turns, and it is, as the reader sees, what it ought to be, a perma- nent axis ; whereas, had blind chance, had a casual impulse, had a stroke or push at random set the earth a spinning, the odds were infinite but that they had sent it round upon a wrong axis. And what would have been the consequence ? The difference between a permanent axis and another axis is this: when a spheroid in a state of rotatory motion gets upon a permanent axis, it keeps there; it remains steady and faithful to its position ; its poles preserve their direction with respect to the plane and to the centre of its orbit ; but while it turns upon an axis which is not permanent— and the number of those we have seen infinitely exceeds the number of the other—it is always liable to shift and vaeil- late from one axis to another, with a corresponding change in the inclination of its poles. Therefore, if a planet once SPT Cy Tree ree tere tert PT yee ss i Pere ee Pee ee ee Seer pore Pe te Se ee ee ee Se Se ee ee ee es eee ee rd ee eee et or ee eee ee Fe yet bdERaesaRSeS eae ee ‘ZzaS pete re Ter Pee ee eee 202 NATURAL LR AOLOGY. set off revolving upon any other than its shortest, or one of its longest axes, the poles on its surface would keep perpet- ually changing, and it never would attain a permanent axis of rotation. The effect of this unfixedness and instability would be, that the equatorial parts of the earth might be- come the polar, or the polar the equatorial, to the utter destruction of plants and animals which are not capable of interchanging their situations, but are respectively adapted to their own. As to ourselves, instead of rejoicing in our temperate zone, and annually preparing for the moderate vicissitude, or rather the agreeable succession of seasons which we experience and expect, we might come to be lock- ed up in the ice and darkness of the arctic circle, with bodies neither inured to its rigors, nor provided with shelter or de- fence against them. Nor would it be much better if the trepidation of our pole, taking an opposite course, should place us under the heats of a vertical sun. But if it would fare so ill with the human inhabitant, who ean live under greater varieties of latitude than any other animal, still more noxious would this translation of climate have proved to life in the rest of the creation, and most perhaps of all in plants. The habitable earth and its beautiful variety might have been destroyed by a simple mischance in the axis of rotation. (*) III. All this, however, proceeds upon a supposition of the earth having been formed at first an oblate spheroid. There is another supposition ; and perhaps our limited infor- mation will not enable us to decide between them. The second supposition is, that the earth, being a mixed mass somewhat fluid, took, as it might do, its present form by the jomt action of the mutual gravitation of its parts and its rotatory motion. This, as we have said, is a point in the history of the earth which our observations are not sufficient to determine. For a very small depth below the surface, but extremely 8mall—less, perhaps, than an eight-thousandth part, compared with the depth of the centre, we find vesti- “= 0ae iyASTRONOMY. ges of ancient fluidity. But this fluidity must have gone down many hundred times further than we can penetrate, to enable the earth to take its present oblate form ; and whether any traces of this kind exist to that depth, we are ignorant. Calculations were made afew years ago, of the mean density of the earth, by comparing the force of its attraction with the force of attraction of a rock of granite, the bulk of which could be ascertained; and the upshot of the calculation was, that the earth upon an average, through its whole sphere, has twice the density of granite, or above five times that of water. Therefore it cannot be a hollow shell, as some have formerly supposed; nor can its internal parts be occupied by central fire, or by water. The solid parts must greatly exceed the fluid parts; and the probability is, that it is a solid mass throughout, composed of substances more ponder- ous the deeper we go. Nevertheless, we may conceive the present face of the-earth to have originated from the revolu- tion of a sphere covered by a surface of a compound mixture ; the fluid and solid parts separating, as the surface becomes quiescent. Here then comes in the moderating hand of the Creator. Ifthe water had exceeded its present proportion, even but by a trifling quantity, compared with the whole globe, all the land would have been covered; had there been much less than there is, there would not have been enough to fertilize the continent. Had the exsiccation been progressive, such as we may suppose to have been produced by an evaporating heat, how came it to stop at the point at which we see it? Why did it not stop sooner; why at all? The mandate of the Deity will account for this; nothing else will. IV. OF CENTRIPETAL FORCES. By virtue of the simplest law that can be imagined, namely, that a body continwes in the state in which it is, whether of motion or rest; and, if in motion, goes on in the line in which it was proceeding, and with the same velocity, wzless there be some cause for change: by virtue, I say, of this law, it comes to pass—what #5 i ee eee eee sere eee eee eee er See ee eT Tee rey ee re ere ee Perret ester cette ee ee te ee Pe ee eet eS ee a ees LeRa COL AASSARSSSSAAPELICWL OL ILSSSEF Speke ve sie hos Si Ps Sees ete ao a ode te Esastsesses ce aid! o4 NATURAL THEOLOGY. may appear to be a strange consequence—that cases arise in which attraction, incessantly drawing a body towards a centre, never brings, nor ever will bring, the body to that centre, but keep it in eternal circulation round it. If it were possible to fire off a cannon-ball with a velocity of five miles in a second, and the resistance of the air could be taken away, the cannon-ball would for ever wheel round the earth instead of falling down upon it. This is the principle which sustains the heavenly motions. The Deity having appoint- ed this law to matter—than which, as we have said before, has turned it to a wonderful no law could be more simple account in constructing planetary systems. The actuating cause in these systems, is an attraction which varies reciprocally as the square of the distance : that is, at double the distance it has a-quarter of the force; at half the distance, four times the strength, and so on. Now, con- cerning this law of variation, we have three things to ob- serve : first, that attraction, for any thing we know about it, was just as capable of one law of variation as of another ; secondly, that out. of an infinite number of possible laws, those which were admissible for the purpose of supporting the heavenly motions, lay within certain narrow limits; thirdly, that of the admissible laws, or those which come within the limits prescribed, the law that actually prevails is the most beneficial. So far as these propositions can be made out, we may be said, I think, to prove chotce and reg- ulation: choice, out of boundless variety; and regulation of that which, by its own nature, was, in respect of the prop- erty regulated, indifferent and indefinite. I. First, then, attraction, for any thing we know about it, was originally indifferent to all laws of variation depend- ing upon change of distance, that is, just as susceptible of one law as of another. It might have been the same at all distances ; it might have increased as the distance increased ; or it might have diminished with the increase of the dis- tance, yet in ten thousand different proportions from theASTRONOMY. present; it might have followed no stated law at able wolf attraction be what Cotes, with many other Newtonians, thought it to be, a primordial property of matter, not de- pendent upon or traceable to any other material cause ; then, by the very nature and definition of a primordial prop- erty, it stood indifferent to all laws. If it be the agency of something immaterial, then also, for any thing we know of it, it was indifferent to all laws. If the revolution of bodies round a centre depend upon vortices, neither are these lim- ited to one law more than another. There is, I know, an account given of attraction which should seem, in its very cause, to assign to it the law which we find it to observe ; and which, therefore, makes that law a law not of choice, but of necessity: and it is the account which ascribes attraction to an emanation from the attract- ing body. It is probable that the influence of such an em- anation will be proportioned to the spissitude of the rays of which it is composed; which spissitude, supposing the rays to issue in right lines on all sides from a point, will be re- ciprocally as the square of the distance. The mathematics of this solution we do not call in question : the question with us is, whether there be any sufficient reason for believing that attraction is produced by an emanation. For my part, I am totally at a loss to comprehend how particles stream- ing from a centre should draw a body towards it. The im- pulse, if impulse it be, is all the other way. Nor shall we find less difficulty in conceiving a conflux of particles, in- cessantly flowing to a centre, and carryimg down all bodies along with it, that centre also itself being in a state of rapid motion through absolute space; for by what source is the stream fed, or what becomes of the accumulation? Add to which, that it seems to imply a contrariety.of properties, to suppose an ethereal fluid to act, but not to reszst ; pow- erful enough to carry down bodies with great force towards a centre, yet, inconsistently with the nature of inert matter, powerless and perfectly yielding with respect to the motions eee eee See te re ee a mee ee eee sere se Tey ee eer rer ete cert ert Pet eee a ES Pot ee ee ee ee ee eeTita eee eras re te Stee es ea a ee eee ES Soke eee tee ret ede ee a ee eon ae Soe ade aed fo RE ed ee oe Re a ee a ae ee ee ee 206 « NATURAL THEOLOGY. which result from the projectile impulse. By calculations drawn from ancient notices of eclipses of the moon, we can prove that, if such a fluid exist at all, its resistance has had no sensible effect upon the moon’s motion for two thou- sand five hundred years. The truth is, that except this one circumstance of the variation of the attracting force at differ- ent distances agreeing with the variation of the spissitude, there is no reason whatever to support the hypothesis of an emanation ; and there are, as it seems to me, almost insu- perable reasons against it. (*) II. Our second proposition is, that while the possi- ble laws of variation were infinite, the admussible laws, or the laws compatible with the preservation of the system, lie within narrow limits. If the attracting force had varied according to any direct law of the distance, let it have been what it would, great destruction and confusion would have taken place. The direct simple proportion of the distance would, it is true, have produced’ an ellipse; but the per- turbing forces would have acted with so much advantage as to be continually changing the dimensions of the ellipse in a manner inconsistent with our terrestrial creation. For instance, if the planet Saturn, so large and so remote, had attracted the earth, both in proportion to the quantity of matter contained in it, which it does, and also in any pro- portion to its distance, that is, if it had pulled the harder for being the further off, instead of the reverse of it, it would have dragged out of its course the globe which we inhabit, and have perplexed its motions to a degree compatible with our security, our enjoyments, and probably our exist- ence. Of the cnverse laws, if the centripetal force had changed as the cube of the distance, or in any higher pro- portion ; that is—for I speak to the unlearned—if, at double the distance, the attractive force had been diminished to an eighth part, or to less than that, the consequence would have been, that the planets, if they once began to approach the sun, would have fallen into his body ; if they once, thoughASTRONOMY. 257 by ever so little, increased their distance from the centre, would for ever have receded from it. The laws, therefore, of attraction, by which a system of revolving bodies could be upholden in their motions, lie within narrow limits, com- pared with the possible laws. I much underrate the re- striction, when I say that, in a scale of a mile, they are confined to an inch. All direct ratios of the distance are excluded, on account of danger from perturbing forces ; all reciprocal ratios, except what lie beneath the cube of the distance, by the demonstrable consequence, that every the least change of distance would, under the operation of such laws, have been fatal to the repose and order of the system. We do not know, that is, we seldom reflect, how interested we are in this matter. Small irregularities may be en- dured ; but changes within these limits being allowed for, the permanency of our ellipse is a question of life and death to our whole sensitive world. (*) II]. That the subsisting law of attraction falls with- in the limits which utility requires, when these limits bear so small a proportion to the range of possibilities upon which chance might equally have cast it, is not, with any appear- ance of reason, to be accounted for by any other cause than a regulation proceeding from a designing mind. But our next proposition carries the matter somewhat further. We say, in the third place, that out of the different laws which lie within the limits of admissible laws, the dest is made choice of; that there are advantages in this particular law which cannot be demonstrated to belong to any other law ; and concerning some of which, it can be demonstrated that they do not belong to any other. (*) 1. While this law prevails between all particles of matter, the wnited attraction of a sphere composed of that matter observes the same law. This property of the law is necessary to render it applicable to a system composed of spheres, but it is a property which belongs to no other law of attraction that is admissible. The law of variation of Peer ee pee eer e Pee ee pee Se eS coe ee a 2 ee ee re a ek ee ae ae ot ee eee ee ee oe ee ee ee ee ee eeRs Se etl rs Cte te tee Ch 3 Sell arte Ec Se ae 258 NATURAL SER ROLOGY . the united attraction is in no other ease the same as the law of attraction of each particle, one case excepted, and that is of the attraction varying directly as the distance; the inconveniency of which law, in apace respects, we ee already noticed. We may follow this regulation somewhat further, and still more strikingly perceive that it proceeded from a de- signing mind. A law both admissible and convenient was requisite. In what way is the law of the attracting globes obtained? Astronomical observations and terrestrial exper- iments show that the attraction of the globes of the system is made up of the attraction of their parts; the attraction of each globe being compounded of the attractions of its parts. Now the admissible and convenient law which exists could not be obtained in a system of bodies gravitat- ing by the united gravitation of their parts, unless each particle of matter were attracted by a force varying by one particular law, namely, varying inversely as the square of the distance ; for, if the action of the particles be according to any other law whatever, the admissible and convenient law which is adopted could not be obtained. Here, then, are clearly shown regulation and design. A law both ad- missible and convenient was to be obtained; the mode chosen for obtaining that law was by making each particle of matter act. After this choice was made, then further attention was to be given to each particle of matter , and one, and one only particular law of action to be assigned to it. No other law would have answered the purpose in- tended. wv (*) 2. All systems must be liable to perturbations. And therefore; to guard against these perturbations, or rather to guard against their running to destructive lengths, is perhaps the strongest evidence of care and foresight that ean be given. Now we are able to demonstrate of our law of attraction—what can be demonstrated of no other, and what qualifies the dangers which arise from cross but wna-ASTRONOMY. 209 voidable influences—that the action of the parts of our system upon one another will not cause permanently in- creasing irregularities, but merely periodical or vibratory ones; that is, they will come to a limit and then go back again. This we can demonstrate only of a system m which the following properties concur, namely, that the force shall be inversely as the square of the distance; the masses of the revolving bodies small, compared with that of the body at the centre; the orbits not much inclined to one another ; and their eccentricity little. In such a system the grand points are secure. The mean distances and periodic times, upon which depend our temperature and the regularity of our year, are constant.. The eccentricities, it. is true, will still vary ; but so slowly, and to so small an extent, as to produce no inconveniency from fluctuation of temperature and season. The same as to the obliquity of the planes of the orbits. For instance, the inclination of the ecliptic to the equator will never change above two degrees, out of ninety, and that will require many thousand years in per- forming. It has been rightly also remarked, that if the great plan- ets Jupiter and Saturn had moved in lower spheres, their influences would have had much more effect as to disturb- ing the planetary motions than they now have. While they revolve at so great distances from the rest, they act almost equally on the sun and on the inferior planets; which has nearly the same consequence as not acting at all upon either. If it be said, that the planets might have been sent round the sun_in exact circles, in which case, no change of dis- tance from the centre taking place, the law of variation of the attracting power would have never come in question, one law would have served as well as another; an answer to the scheme may be drawn from the consideration of these same perturbing forces. The system retaining in other re- spects its present constitution, though the planets had been peer yee s 3 Sta ekLs ie pep leececaghgerers eee eee ee eee ee eee ee eS Wek MEE KRES HSS FSR ee et ee ee eh ee ee ee ee ee ee Stee cr a ree esmn Dedede ee rte Teeter SY ae os rhs aE ee Ee Paesety x cus eeeomadt eta iss tee eeee a ee ee ee ee ui t! 260 NATURAL THEOLOGY. at first sent round in exact circular orbits, they could not have kept them; and if the law of attraction had not been what it is, or at least, if the prevailing law had transgressed the limits above assigned, every evagation would have been fatal: the planet once drawn, as drawn it necessarily must have been, out of its course, would have wandered in end- less error. (*) V. What we have seen in the law of the centripetal force, namely, a choice guided by views of utility, and a choice of one law out of thousands which might equally have taken place, we see no less in the figures of the plan- etary orbits. It was not enough to fix the law of the cen- tripetal force, though by the wisest choice ; for even under that law, it was still competent to the planets to have moved. in paths possessing so great a degree of eccentricity as, in the course of every revolution, to be brought very near to the sun, and carried away to immense distances from him. The comets actually move in orbits of this sort; and had the planets done so, instead of gomg round in orbits nearly circular, the change from one extremity of temperature to another must, in ours at least, have destroyed every animal and plant upon its surface. Now, the distance from the centre at which a planet sets off and the absolute force of at- traction at that distance being fixed, the figure of its orbit— it being a circle, or nearer to, or further off from a cirele, namely, a rounder or a longer oval—depends upon two things, the velocity with which, and the direction in which the planet is projected. And these, in order to produce a right result, must be both brought within certain narrow limits. One, and only one velocity, united with one and only one direction, will produce a perfect circle. And the velocity must be near to this velocity, and the direction also near to this direction, to produce orbits such as the planetary orbits are, nearly circular; that is, ellipses with small eccentrici- ties. The velocity and the direction must doth be right. If the velocity be wrong, no direction will cure the error; ifASTRONOMY. 261 the direction be in any considerable degree oblique, no veloc- ity will produce the orbit required. Take, for example, the attraction of gravity at the surface of the earth. The force of that attraction being what it is, out of all the degrees of velocity, swift and slow, with which a ball might be shot off, none would answer the purpose of which we are speak- ing but what was nearly that of five miles in a second. If it were less than that, the body would not get round at all, but would come to the ground ; if it were in any considera- ble degree more than that, the body would take one of those eccentric courses, those long ellipses, of which we have no- ticed the inconveniency. If the velocity reached the rate of seven miles in a second, or went beyond that, the ball would fly off from the earth and never be heard of more. In like manner with respect to the direction: out of the mnumer- able angles in which the ball might be sent off—I mean none would angles formed with a line drawn to the centre serve but what was nearly a right one. Out of the various directions in which the cannon might be pointed, upwards and downwards, every one would fail but what was exactly or nearly horizontal. The same thing holds true of the planets; of our own among the rest. We are entitled there- fore to ask, and to urge the question, Why did the projectile velocity and projectile direction of the earth happen to be nearly those which would retain it inaczrcular form? Why not one of the infinite number of velocities, one of the infi- nite number of directions, which would have made it ap- proach much nearer to, or recede much further from the sun ? The planets going round, all in the same direction, and all nearly in the same plane, afforded to Buffon a ground for asserting, that they had all been shivered from the sun by the same stroke of a comet, and by that stroke projected into their present orbits. Now, besides that this is to attribute to chance the fortunate concurrence of velocity and direction which we have been here noticing, the hypothesis, as I ap- Pt eae et eA Peeve yee ee ey ver Te eee Ey Ter ere Chee EET Pee ee eS ei hs a es fasee ea sings oe Pape slseesevesss eH es eiy 262 NATURAL THEOLOGY. prehend, is inconsistent with the physical laws by which the heavenly motions are governed. If the planets were struck off from the surface of the sun, they would return to the surface of the sun again. Nor will this difficulty be got rid of by supposing that the same violent blow which shattered the sun’s surface, and separated large fragments from it, pushed the sun himself out of his place; for the consequence of this would be, that the sun and system of shattered frag- ments would have a progressive motion, which indeed may possibly be the case with our system; but then each frag- ment would, in every revolution, return to the surface of the sun again. The hypothesis is also contradicted by. the vast difference which subsists between the diameters of the planetary orbits. The distance of Saturn from the sun, to say nothing of the Georgium Sidus, is nearly five-and-twenty times that of Mercury ; a disparity which it seems impossi- ble to reconcile with Buffon’s scheme. Bodies starting from the same place, with whatever difference of direction or y velocity they set off; could not have been found at these dif- ferent distances from the centre, still retaining their nearly circular orbits. They must have been carried to their proper distances before they were projected.* To conclude—in astronomy, the great thing is to raise the imagination to the subject, and that oftentimes in oppo- * “Tf we suppose the matter of the system to be accumulated in the centre by its gravity, no mechanical principles, with the assistance of this power of gravity, could separate the vast mass into such parts as the sun and planets; and after carrying them to their different distances, project them in their several directions, preserving still the quality of action and reiiction, or the state of the centre of gravity of the system. Such an exquisite structure of things could only arise from the contrivance and powerful influences of an intelligent, free, and most potent agent. The same powers, therefore, which at pres- ent govern the material universe, and conduct its various motions, are very different from those which were necessary to have produced it from nothing, or to have disposed it in the admirable form in which it now proceeds.””—Macuaurin’s Account of Newton’s Philosophy, p. A)’. edite 3:ASTRONOMY. 263 sition to the impression made upon the senses. An illusion, for example, must be gotten over, arising from the distance at which we view the heavenly bodies ; namely, the apparent slowness of their motions. The moon shall take some hours in getting half a yard from a star which it touched. A motion so deliberate, we may think easily guided. But what is the fact? The moon, in fact, is all this while driving through the heavens at the rate of considerably more than two thousand miles in an hour; which is more than double that with which a ball is shot off from the mouth of a can- non. Yet is this prodigious rapidity as much under govern- ment as if the planet proceeded ever so slowly, or were con- ducted in its course inch byinch. It is also difficult to bring the imagination to conceive—what yet, to judge tolerably of the matter, it is necessary to conceive—how loose, if we may so express it, the heavenly bodies are. Enormous globes held by nothing, confined by nothing, are turned into free and boundless space, each to seek its course by the vir- tue of an invisible principle ; but a principle, one, common, and the same in all, and ascertainable. To preserve such bodies from being lost, from running together in heaps, from hindering and distracting one another’s motions, in a degree inconsistent with any continuing order ; that is, to cause them to form planetary systems—systems that, when formed, can be upheld; and more especially, systems accommodated to the organized and sensitive natures which the planets sus- tain, as we know to be the case, where alone we can know what the case is, upon our earth: all this requires an in- telligent interposition, because it can be demonstrated con- cerning it, that it requires an adjustment of force, distance, direction, and velocity, out of the reach of chance to have produced—an adjustment, in its view to utility, similar to that which we see in ten thousand subjects of nature which are nearer to us, but in power, and in the extent of space through which that power is exerted, stupendous. But many of the heavenly bodies, as the sun and fixed ee a ee es ey ee Oe ees ree ee Or ee oe aro eon : A. : PIS TSA E: ee eee SPL SS 2 cp et ee ere ee ee ee ee ee aTEeeiie te eer ee res eee Helper eS ae VIL SHS eye os C de gece Si inc Mi ek ol a 264 NATURAL THEOLOGY. stars, are. statzonary. Their rest must be the effect of an absence or of an equilibrium of attractions. It proves also, that a projectile impulse was originally given to some of the heavenly bodies, and not to others. But further, if attrac- tion act at all distances, there can only be one quiescent centre of gravity in the universe; and all bodies whatever must be approaching this centre, or revolving round it. Ac- cording to the first of these suppositions, if the duration of the world had been long enough to allow of it, all its parts, all the great bodies of which it is composed, must have been gathered together in a heap round this point. No changes, however, which have been observed, afford tis the smallest reason for believing that either the one supposition or the other is true; and then it will follow, that attraction itself is controlled or suspended by a superior agent—that there is a power above the highest of the powers of material nature— a will which restrains and circumscribes the operations of the most extensive.* * Tt must here, however, be stated. that many astronomers deny that any of the heavenly bodies are absolutely stationary. Some of the brightest of the fixed stars have certainly small motions; and of the rest the distance is too great, and the intervals of our observation too short, to enable us to pronounce with certainty that they may not have the same. The motions in the fixed'‘stars which have been ob- served, are considered either as proper to each of them, or as com- pvanded of the motion of our system and of motions proper to each star. By a comparison of these motions, a motion in our system is supposed to be discovered. By continuing this analogy to other and to all systems, it is possible to suppose that attraction is unlimited, and that the whole material universe is revolving round some fixed point within its containing sphere or space.PERSONALITY OF DEITY. CHAPTER XXIII. OF THE PERSONALITY OF THE DEITY. Contrivance, if established, appears to me to prove every thing which we wish to prove. Among other things, it proves the personality of the Deity, as distinguished from what is sometimes called nature, sometimes called a princi- ple; which terms, in the mouths of those who use them philosophically, seem to be intended to admit and to express an efficacy, but to exclude and to deny a personal agent. Now, that which can contrive, which can design, must be a person.. These capacities constitute personality, for they imply consciousness and thought. They require that which can perceive an end or purpose, as well as the power of providing means and directing them to their end.* They require a centre in which perceptions unite, and from which vohitions flow; which is mind. The acts of a mind prove the existence of a mind; and in whatever a mind resides, is a person. The seat of intellect is a person. We have no authority to limit the properties of mind to any particular corporeal form, or to any particular cireumscription of space. These properties subsist, in created nature, under a great variety of sensible forms. Also, every animated being has its sensorium; that is, a certain portion of space, within which perception and volition are exerted. This sphere may be enlarged to an indefinite extent—may comprehend the universe ; and being so imagined, may serve to furnish us with as good a notion as we are capable of forming, of the emmensity of the divine nature, that is, of a Being, infinite, as well in essence as in power, yet nevertheless a person. ‘No man hath seen God at any time.” And this, I believe, makes the great difficulty. Now, it is a difficulty which ‘chiefly arises from our not duly estimating the state * Priestley’s Letters to a Philosophical Unbeliever, p- 153, edit. 2. Nat. Theol. Ve ~ Se XS RSF Ey eee ee Pep oes Se ey tes eee ee bee eee a re oe LS266 N AW UR A TREO OG: X ; Heil of our faculties. The Deity, it is true, is the object of none of our senses; but reflect what limited capacities animal senses are. Many animals seem to have but one sense, or perhaps two at the most—touch and taste. Ought such an a animal to conclude against the existence of odors, sounds, ff i : i and colors? To another species is given.the sense of smell- ; a ing. This is an advance in the knowledge of the powers | and properties of nature; but if this favored animal should infer from its superiority over the class last described, that it perceived every thing which was perceptible in nature, it is known to us, though perhaps not suspected by the animal itself, that 1t proceeded upon a false and presumptuous esti- mate of its faculties. To another is added the sense of hear- ing ; which lets in a class of sensations entirely unconceived by the animal before spoken of, not only distinct, but remote from any which zé had ever experienced, and greatly supe- rior to them. Yet this last animal has no more ground for believing that its senses comprehend all things, and all prop- erties of things which exist, than might have been claimed PePePesewsdskh by the tribes of animals beneath it; for we know that it is still possible to possess another sense, that of sight, which shall disclose to the percipient a new world. This fifth sense makes the animal what the human animal is; but to infer that possibility stops here, that either this fifth sense is the last sense, or that the five comprehend all existence, is Just as unwarrantable a conclusion as that which might have been made by any of the different species which pos- I sessed fewer, or even by that, if such there be, which pos- sessed only one. The conclusion of the one-sense animal and the conclusion of the five-sense animal stand upon the same authority. There may be more and other senses than those which we have. There may be senses suited to the perception of the powers, properties, and substance of spirits, These may belong to higher orders of rational agents ; for co i there is not the smallest reason for supposing that we are eo the highest, or that the scale of creation stops with us. arrPERSONALITY OF DEITY. 267 The great energies of nature are known to us only by their effects. The substances which produce them are as much concealed from our senses as the divine essence itself. Gravitation, though constantly present, though constantly exerting its influence, though everywhere around us, near us, and within us—though diffused throughout all space, and penetrating the texture of all bodies with which we are acquainted, depends, if upon a fluid, upon a fluid which, though both powerful and universal in its operation, is no object of sense to us; if upon any other kind of substance or action, upon a substance and action from which we receive no distinguishable impressions. Is it then to be wondered at, that it should in some measure be the same with the divine nature ? Of this, however, we are certain, that whatever the Dei- ty be, neither the wntverse, nor any part of it which we see, can be He. The universe itself is merely a collective name; its parts are all which are real, or which are th ngs. Now inert matter is out of the question ; and organized substances include marks of contrivance. But whatever includes marks of contrivance, whatever in its constitution testifies design, necessarily carries us to something beyond itself, to some other being, to a designer prior to and out of itself. No animal, for instance, can have contrived its own limbs and senses can have been the author to itself of the desion with which they were constructed. That supposition involves all the absurdity of selfcreation, that is, of acting without existing. Nothing can be God, which is ordered by a wis- dom and a will which itself is void of—which is indebted for any of its properties to contrivance ab extra. The not having that in his nature which requires the exertion of an- other prior being—which property is sometimes called self. sufficiency, and sometimes self-comprehension—appertains to the Deity, as his essential distinction, and removes his nature from that of all things which we see: which consid- eration contains the answer to a question that has sometimes pebeeoSiiaaiohiesass titspataeaees sos Shsiskeslaaeeere ss pl egaesacigisay 3 1es ; Re ee ee Fa andes sp A canis Pee Si ee ee ee ee ee eT ee Pe eee beeEFM ee seer ee esas St ee SSese Stk ee 268 NATURAL THEOLOGY. been asked, namely, Why, since some other thing must have existed from eternity, may not the present universe be that something? ‘The contrivance perceived in it proves that to be impossible. Nothing contrived can, in a strict and proper sense, be eternal, forasmuch as the contriver must have exist- ed before the contrivance. Wherever we see marks of contrivance, we are led for its cause to an 2ntelligent author. And this transition of the understanding 1s founded upon uniform experience. We see intelligence constantly contriving; that is, we see intelligence constantly producing effects, marked and distinguished by certain properties—not certain particular properties, but by a kind and class of properties, such as relation to an end, relation of parts to one another and to a common purpose. We see, wherever we are witnesses to the actual formation of things, nothing except intelligence producing effects so marked and distinguished. Furnished with this experience, we view the productions of nature. We observe them also marked and distmguished in the same manner. We wish to account for their origin. Our experience suggests a cause perfectly adequate to this account. No experience, no single instance or example, can be offered in favor of any other. In this cause, therefore, we ought to rest ; in this cause the common-sense of mankind has, in fact, rested, because it agrees with that which in all cases is the foundation of knowledge—the undeviating course of their experience. The reasoning is the same as that by which we conclude any ancient appearances to have been the effects of volcanoes or inundations, namely, because they resemble the effects which fire and water produce before our eyes, and because we have never known these effects to result from any other opera- tion. And this resemblance may subsist in so many cireum- stances as not to leave us under the smallest doubt in form- ing our opmion. Men are not deceived by this reasoning ; for whenever it happens, as it sometimes does happen, that the truth comes to be known by direct information, it turns ESR A ST Ae oePERSONALITY OF DEITY. 269 out to be what was expected. In like manner and upon the same foundation—which in truth is that of experience— we conclude that the works of nature proceed from intelli- gence and design ; because, in the properties of relation to a purpose, subserviency to a use, they resemble what intelli- gence and design are constantly producing, and what noth- ing except intelligence and design ever produce at all. Of every argument which would raise a question as to the safety of this reasoning, it may be observed, that if such argument be listened to, it leads to the inference, not only that the present order of nature is insufficient to prove the existence of an intelligent Creator, but that no imaginable order would be sufficient to prove it—that mo contrivance, were it ever so mechanical, ever so precise, ever so clear, ever so perfect- ly like those which we ourselves employ, would support this conclusion : a doctrine to which I conceive no sound mind can assent. The force, however, of the reasoning is sometimes sunk by our taking up with mere names. We have already no- ticed,* and we must here notice again, the misapplication of the term “law,” and the mistake concerning the idea which that term expresses in physics, whenever such idea is made to take the place of power, and still more of an intelli- gent power, and, as such, to be assigned for the cause of any thing, or of any property of any thing that exists. This is what we are secretly apt to do, when we speak of organized bodies—plants, for instance, or animals—owing their pro- duction, their form, their growth, their qualities, their beau- ty, their use, to any law or laws of nature; and when we are contented to sit down with that answer to our inquiries concerning them. I say once more, that it is a perversion of language to assign any law as the efficient. operative cause of anything. A law presupposes an agent, for it is only the mode according to which an agent proceeds; it implies a power, for it is the order according to which that power acts. *K Chap. I., sect. 7. ec egsdsae gets Fi TF eS esess eSet eee ee ee ee re rte 2 ae ae eee ty ee ee he te Spe ak ie Bem Be yee tee eee ee eee es Se ee ee ee a ee ee ee ee ee eeif 270 NATURAL‘THEOLOGY. Without this agent, without this power, which are both dis- tinct from itself, the ‘law’ does nothing, is nothing. What has been said concerning “law,” holds true of mechanism. Mechanism is not itself power. Mechanism without power can do nothing. Let a watch be contrived and constructed ever so ingeniously—be its parts ever so many, ever so complicated, ever so finely wrought or arti- ficially put together, it cannot go without a weight or spring; that is, without a force independent of, and ulterior to its mechanism. ‘The spring, acting at the centre, will produce different motions and different results, according to the va- riety of the intermediate mechanism. One and the self- same spring, acting in one and the same manner, namely, by simply expanding itself, may be the cause of a hundred different and all useful movements, if a hundred different and well-devised sets of wheels be placed between it and the final effect : for example, may point out the hour of the day, the day of the month, the age of the moon, the position of the planets, the cycle of the years, and many other ser- viceable notices ; and these movements may fulfil their pur- poses with more or less perfection, according as the mechan- ism is better or worse contrived, or better or worse executed, or in a better or worse state of repair; Gut i all cases ti 0s necessary that the spring act at the centre. The course of our reasoning upon such a subject would be this : by imspect- ing the watch, even when standing still, we get a proof of con- trivance, and of a contriving mind having been employed about it. Inthe form and obvious relation of its parts, we see enough to convince us of this. If we pull the works in pieces, for the purpose of a closer examination, we are still more fully convinced. But when we see the watch gowng, we see proof of another point, namely, that there is a power somewhere, and somehow or other applied to it—a power in action; that there is more in the subject than the mere wheels of the machine ; that there is a secret spring, ora gravitating plummet ; in a word, that there is force and energy as well as mechanism. ica © T Fe,PERSONALITY OF DRITFY. 271 we So, then, the watch in motion establishes to the observer two conclusions : one, that thought, contrivance, and design have been employed in the forming, proportioning, and ar- ranging of its parts; and that whoever or wherever he be, or were, such a contriver there is, or was; the other, that force or power, distinct from mechanism, is at this present time acting upon it. If I saw a hand-mill even at rest, I should see contrivance ; but if I saw it grinding, I should be assured that a hand was at the windlass, though in an- other room. It is the same in nature. In the works of na- ture we trace mechanism, and this alone proves contriv- ance ; but living, active, moving, productive nature proves also the exertion of a power at the centre; for wherever the power resides may be denominated the centre. The intervention and disposition of what are called “second causes,” fall under the same observation. This disposition is or is not mechanism, according as we can or ean not trace it by our senses and means of examination. That is all the difference there is; and it is a difference which respects our faculties, not the things themselves. Now, where the order of second causes is mechanical, what is here said of mechanism strictly applies to it. But it would be always mechanism—natural chemistry, for imstance, would be mechanism—if our senses were acute enough to desery it. Neither mechanism, therefore, in the works of nature, nor the intervention of what are called second caus- es—for I think that they are the same thing—excuses the necessity of an agent distinct from both. If, in tracing these causes, it be said that we find certain general properties of matter w hich have nothing in them that bespeaks intelligence, I answer, that still the managing of these properties, the pointing and directing them to the uses which we see made of them, demands intelligence in the highest degree. For example, suppose animal secre- tions to be elective attractions, and that such and such at- tractions universally belong to such and such substances— eee ee ee Ce ee ee ee ee ee a eee ee ee a ee eet oP eee 2 ee Pee es Teter eee eee SsFP ees ee ee ccc eeee te eee eee es Stee Doe ae deer oe PHe$iss= ae ot ew etres 27 NATURAG THEOLOGY. in all which there is no intellect concerned ; still, the choice and collocation of these substances, the fixing upon right substances, and disposing them in right places, must be an act of intelligence. What mischief would follow were there a single transposition of the secretory organs; a single mis- take in arranging the glands which compose them ! There may be many second causes, and many courses of second causes, one behind another, between what we observe of nature and the Deity, but there must be intelligence somewhere there must be more in nature than what we see; and, among the things unseen, there must be an intel- ligent, designing author. The philosopher beholds with astonishment the production of things around him. Uncon- scious particles of matter take their stations, and severally range themselves in an order, so as to become collectively plants or animals, that is, organized bodies, with parts bear- ing strict and evident relation to one another, and to the utility of the whole; and it should seem that these particles could not move in any other way than as they do, for they testify not the smallest sien of choice, or liberty, or discre- tion. There may be particular intelligent beings guiding these motions in each case; or they may be the result of trains of mechanical dispositions, fixed beforehand by an intelligent appointment, and kept in action by a power at the centre. But, in either case, there must be intelligence. The minds of most men are fond of what they call a principle, and of the appearance of simplicity, in accounting for phenomena. Yet this principle, this simplicity, resides merely in the zame; which name, after all, comprises per- haps under it a diversified, multifarious, or progressive oper- ation, distinguishable into parts. The power in organized. bodies, of producing bodies like themselves, is one of these principles. Give a philosopher this, and he can get on. But he does not reflect what this mode of production, th's principle—if such he choose to call it requires; how much it presupposes; what an apparatus of instruments, some of NTT Sn I re tae t ‘PERSONALITY OF DELY. 2ie which are strictly mechanical, is necessary to its success ; what a train it includes of operations and changes, one suc- ceeding another, one related to another, one ministering to another; all advancing by intermediate, and frequently by sensible steps, to their ultimate result. Yet, because the whole of this complicated action is wrapped up in a single term, generation, we are to set it down as an elementary principle ; and to suppose, that when we have resolved the things which we see into this principle, we have sufticiently accounted for their origin, without the necessity of a design- ing, intelligent Creator. The truth is, generation is not a principle, but a process. We might as well call the casting of metals a principle; we might, so far as appears to me, as well call spinnme and weaving principles; and then, refer- ring the texture of cloths, the fabric of muslins and calicoes, the patterns of diapers and damasks, to these, as principles, pretend to dispense with intention, thought, and contrivance on the part of the artist ; or to dispense, indeed, with the necessity of any artist at all, either in the manufacturing of the article, or in the fabrication of the machmery by which the manufacture was carried on. And, after all, how, or in what sense is It true, that ani mals produce their like? A butterfly with a proboscis instead of a mouth, with four wings and six legs, produces a hairy caterpillar with jaws and teeth, and fourteen feet. A frog produces a tadpole. A black beetle with gauze wings and a crusty covering, produces a white, smooth, soft worm ; an ephemeron fly, a cod-bait maggot. These, by a progress through different stages of life and action and enjoyment— and, in each state, provided with implements and organs appropriated to the temporary nature which they bear— arrive at last at the form and fashion of the parent animal. But all this is process, not principle ; and proves, moreover, that the property of animated bodies of producing their like belongs to them, not as a primordial property, not by any plind necessity in the nature of things, but as the effect of 12% Sec veghese ee ga tae The sesese F2e3 > a ee es ee ee LS RE ee ene ieee et PRP er ee ee ee oe eee ee esPServer ee pe ee ee gg ee a ee ee ed ~ ea ore eat eke a 298 NATURAL THEOLOGY. has learnt to pronounce, proves this point clearly. Nor is it less pleased with its first successful endeavors to walk, or rather to run—which precedes walking—although entirely ignorant of the importance of the attainment to its future life, and even without applying it to any present purpose. A child is delighted with speaking, without having any thing to say, and with walking, without knowing where to go. And, prior to both these, I am disposed to believe that the waking hours of infancy are agreeably taken up with the exercise of vision, or perhaps, more properly speaking, with learning to see. But it is not for youth alone that the great Parent of creation has provided. Happiness is found with the purring cat, no less than with the playful kitten—in the arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation of the chase. To novelty, to acute- ness of sensation, to hope, to ardor of pursuit, succeeds what is, in no inconsiderable degree, an equivalent for them all, “ perception of ease.” Herein is the exact difference between the young and the old. The young are not happy but when enjoying pleasure ; the old are happy when free from pain. And this constitution suits with the degrees of animal power which they respectively possess. The vigor of youth was to be stimulated to action by impatience of rest; while, to the imbecility of age, quietness and repose become positive grati- fications. In one important respect, the advantage 1s with the old. A state of ease is, generally speaking, more attam- able than a state of pleasure. A constitution, therefore, which can enjoy ease, is preferable to that which can taste only pleasure. This same perception of ease oftentimes ren- ders old-age a condition of great comfort ; especially when riding at its anchor after a busy or tempestuous life. It is well described by Rousseau, to be the interval of repose and enjoyment between the hurry and the end of life. How far the same cause extends to other animal natures, cannot be judged of with certainty. The appearance of satisfaction ©‘Fog Teer rr Ties rer ee es ee eee Seale) GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 299 ! with which most animals, as their activity subsides, seek and enjoy rest, affords reason to believe that this source of gratification is appointed to advanced life, under all, or most of its various forms. In the species with which we are best acquainted, namely, our own, I am far, even as an observer of human life, from thinking that youth is its happiest sea- son, much less the only happy one: as a Christian, I ain willing to believe that there is a great deal of truth in the Pee es ee we ee ee following representation given by a very pious writer as well as excellent man :* “ To the intelligent and virtuous, old-age presents a scene of tranquil enjoyments, of obedient appetite, of well-regulated affections, of maturity in knowledge, and of calm preparation for immortality. In this serene and dignified state, placed as it were on the confines of two worlds, i ne ae ee eae the mind of a good man reviews what is past with the com- Pat ee s ae eee Pere pe oe ey te ee rs oe et eee ee eee Te ee placency of an approving conscience; and looks forward with humble confidence in the mercy of God, and with de- vout aspirations towards his eternal and ever-increasing favor.” a What is seen in different stages of the same life, is still me more exemplified in the lives of different animals. Animal enjoyments are infinitely diversified. The modes of life to which the organization of different animals respectively de- termines them, are not only of various, but of opposite kinds. Yet each is happy in itsown. For instance, animals of prey live much alone; animals of a milder constitution, in society. Yet the herring which lives in shoals, and the sheep which lives in flocks, are not more happy in a crowd, or more con- tented among their companions, than is the pike or the lion with the deep solitudes of the pool or the forest. But it will be said, that the instances which we have here brought forward, whether of vivacity or repose, or of apparent enjoyment derived from either, are picked and favor- Ce tans able instances. We answer, first, that they are instances, nevertheless, which comprise large provinces of sensitive * Father’s Instructions; by Dr. Percival, of Manchester, p. 317. ERSs SCRE AHSTLL LLL tT eee eee ieee eee oe eee ee Ee eee a et eee Se * 300 NATURAL THEOLOGY. éxistence ; that every case which we have described is the case of millions. At this moment, in every given moment of time, how many myriads of animals are eating their food, eratifying their appetites, ruminating in their holes, accom- plishing their wishes, pursuing their pleasures, taking their pastimes! In each individual, how many things must go right for it to be at ease, yet how large a proportion out of every species is so in every assignable instant. Secondly, we contend, in the terms of our original proposition, that throughout the whole of life, as it is diffused in nature, and as far as we are acquainted with it, looking to the average of sensations, the plurality and the preponderancy is in favor of happiness by a vast excess. In our own species, in which perhaps the assertion may be more questionable than any other, the prepollency of good over evil, of health, for exam- ple, and ease, over pain and distress, is evinced by the very notice which calamities excite. What inquiries does the sickness of our friends produce; what conversation, their mis- fortunes. This shows that the common course of things is in favor of happiness ; that happiness is the rule, misery the exception.. Were the order reversed, our attention would be called to examples of health and competency, instead of dis- ease and want. One great cause of our insensibility to the goodness of the Creator, is the very extensiveness of his bounty. We prize but little what we share only in common with the rest, or with the generality of our species. When we hear of blessings we think forthwith of successes, of prosperous for- tunes, of honors, riches, preferments, that 1s, of those advan- tages and superiorities over others which we happen either to possess, or to be in pursuit of, or to covet. The common benefits of our nature entirely escape us. Yet these are the great things. These constitute what most properly ought to be accounted blessings of Providence—what alone, if we might so speak, are worthy of its care. Nightly rest and daily bread, the ordinary use of our limbs and senses andGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 301 understandings, are gifts which admit of no comparison with any other. Yet because almost every man we meet with possesses these, we leave them out of our enumeration. They raise no sentiment, they move no gratitude. Now, herein is our judgment perverted by our selfishness. A bless- ing ought in truth to be the more satisfactory, the bounty at least of the donor is rendered more conspicuous, by its very diffusion, its commonness, its cheapness—by its falling to the lot, and forming the happiness of the great bulk and body of our species, as well as of ourselves. Nay, even when we do not possess it, it ought to be matter of thankfulness that others do. But we have a different way of thinking. We court distinction. That is not the worst: we sce nothing but what has distinction to recommend it. This neces- sarily contracts our views of the Creator’s beneficence within a narrow compass, and most unjustly. It is in those things which are so common as to be no distinction, that the ampli- tude of the divine benignity is perceived. But pain, no doubt, and privations exist in numerous instances and to a great degree, which collectively would be very great, if they were compared with any other thing than with the mass of animal fruition. For the application, there- fore, of our proposition to that mzzed state of things which these exceptions induce, two rules are necessary, and both, I think, just and fair rules. One is, that we regard those effects alone which are accompanied with proofs of inten- tion ; the other, that when we cannot resolve all appear- ances into benevolence of design, we make the few give place to the many, the little to the great—that we take our judgement from a large and decided preponderancy, if there be one. I crave leave to transcribe into this place what I have said upon this subject in my Moral Philosophy. ‘When God created the human species, either he wished their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indif- ferent and unconcerned about either. eee ee ee ee eee eT ee ee vee re re ee ee eee ee eet oye ere eae 5 a ee ae oe a ees He S5S58 ee ee ee ee oe eee ee ee re ee ee ee ee ee ee ee eenn Sie eee eee bak Sek ee os et ey 302 NATURAL THEOLOGY. “Tf he had wished our misery, he might have made sure of his purpose, by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and enjoyment; or by placing us amid objects so ill-suited to our perceptions as to have continually offended us, instead of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might have made, for example, every thing we tasted, bitter; every thing we saw, loathsome; every thing we touched, a sting; every smell, a stench; and every sound, a discord. “If he had been indifferent about our happiness or mis- ery, we must impute to our good fortune—as all design by this supposition is excluded—both the capacity of our senses 1o receive pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to produce it. “But either of these, and still more, both of them, being too much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the first supposition, that God, when he created the human species, wished their happiness, and made for them the provision which he has made, with that view and for that purpose. “The same argument may be proposed in different terms, thus: contrivance proves design ; and the predominant tendency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The world abounds with contrivances; and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with are directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists, but is never, that we can perceive, the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to ache; their aching now and then is incidental to the contrivance, perhaps inseparable from it: or even, if you will, let it be called a defect in the contriv- ance; but it is not the object of it. This is a distinction which well deserves to be attended to. In describing imple- ments of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper’s hand; though from the con- struction of the mstrument, and the manner of using it, this mischief often follows. But if you had occasion to describeGOODNESs OF THE BEITY. ¢ 303 instruments of torture, or execution, this engine, you would say, is to extend the sinews, this to dislocate the joints, this to break the bones, this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain and misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now nothing of this sort is to be found in the works of na- ture. We never discover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a sys- tem of organization calculated to produce pain and disease ; or, in explaining the parts of the human body, ever said, this is to irritate, this to inflame, this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys, this gland to secrete the humor which forms the gout: if by chance he come at a part of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is useless; no one ever suspects that it is put there to commode, to annoy, or to torment.” The two cases which appear to me to have the most difficulty in them, as forming the most of the appearance of exception to the representation here given, are those of ven- omous animals, and of animals preying upon one another. These properties of animals, wherever they are found, must, I think, be referred to design, because there is in all cases of the first, and in most cases of the second, an express and distinct organization provided for the producing of them. Under the first head, the fangs of vipers, the stings of wasps and scorpions, are as clearly intended for their purpose, as any animal structure is for any purpose the most incontest- ably beneficial. And the same thing must, under the second head, be acknowledged of the talons and beaks of birds, of the tusks, teeth, and claws of beasts of prey—of the shark’s mouth, of the spider’s web, and of numberless weapons of offence belonging to different tribes of voracious insects. We cannot, therefore, avoid the difficulty by saying that the effect was not intended. The only question open to us is, whether it be ultimately evil. From the confessed and felt imperfection of our knowledge, we ought to presume that there may be consequences of this economy which are hidden ere ey eer ere ere tree reese Pett et eee ee eae yee eee ye 2 Oe er eee er ee eee ts ee ee ee ee et re a ee ae See Se | bees Gos bivpenases seeder eesee as pera t eee ee tee Pad OS ee et a 304 NATURAL THEOLOGY. from us: from the benevolence which pervades the general desions of nature, we ought also to presume that these con- sequences, if they could enter into our calculation, would turn the balance on the favorable side. Both these I con- tend to be reasonable presumptions. Not reasonable pre- sumptions if these two cases were the only cases which nature presented to our observation; but reasonable pre- sumptions, under the reflection, that the cases in question are combined with a multitude of intentions, all proceeding from the same author, and all, except these, directed to ends of undisputed utility. Of the vindications, however, of this economy, which we are able to assign, such as most exten- uate the difficulty, are the following. With respect to venomous bites and stings, 1t may be ob- served, 1. That, the animal itself being regarded, the faculty complained of is good: being conducive, im all cases, to the defence of the animal; in some cases, to the subduing of its prey; and in some, probably, to the killing of it, when caught, by a mortal wound, inflicted in the passage to the stomach, which may be no less merciful to the victim than salutary to the devourer. In the viper, for instance, the poisonous fang may do that which, in other animals of prey, is done by the crush of the teeth. Frogs and mice might be swallowed alive without it. 2. But it will be said, that this provision, when it comes to the case of bites, deadly even to human bodies, and to those of large quadrupeds, is greatly overdone; that it might have fulfilled its use, and yet have been much less deleteri- ous than it is. Now I believe the case of bites which pro- duce death in large animals—of stings I think there are to be very few. The experiments of the Abbé Fon- tana, which were numerous, go strongly to the proof of this none point. He found that it required the action of five exasper- ated vipers to kill a dog of a moderate size; but that to the killing of a mouse or a frog, a single bite was sufficient ;GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 305 which agrees with the use which we assign to the faculty. The abbé seemed to be of opinion, that the bite even of the rattlesnake would not usually be mortal ; allowing, however, that in certain particularly unfortunate cases, as when the puncture had touched some very tender part, pricked a prin- cipal nerve, for instance, or, as it is said, some more consider- able lymphatic vessel, death might speedily ensue. 3. It has been, I think, very justly remarked coneerning serpents, that while only a few species possess the venomous property, that property guards the whole tribe. The most innocuous snake is avoided with as much care as a viper. Now the terror with which large animals regard this class of reptiles is its protection; and this terror is founded on the formidable revenge which a few of the number, compared with the whole, are capable of taking. The species of ser- pents described by Linnzus, amount to two hundred and eighteen, of which thirty-two only are poisonous. 4. It seems to me, that animal constitutions are pyro- vided not only for each element, but for each state of the elements, that is, for every climate, and for every tempera- ture ; and that part of the mischief complained of, arises trom animals—the human animal most especially—oecupy- ing situations upon the earth which do not belong to them, nor were ever intended for their habitation. The folly and wickedness of mankind, and necessities proceeding from these causes, have driven multitudes of the species to seek a refuge among burning sands, while countries blessed with hospit- able skies, and with the most fertile soils, remain almost without a human tenant. We invade the territories of wild beasts and venomous reptiles, and then complain that we are infested by their bites and stings. Some accounts of Africa place this observation in a strong point of view. «The deserts,’ says Adamson, “are entirely barren, except where they are found to produce serpents ; and in such quan- tities, that some extensive plains are almost entirely covered with them.” These are the natures appropriated to the sit- ee eene eee pe rere ee er ee ee ee Pt. 2. ee eeEee Sere eer ee te ee Sa oS FS eRPaPss Ss Sesevesesesesesy 2 at ee ee Eg ne Ce 306 NATURAL THEOLOGY. uation. Let them enjoy their existence ; let them have their country. Surface enough will be left to man, though his numbers were increased a hundred-fold, and left to him where he might live exempt from these annoyances. The sECOND CAsE, namely, that of animals devouring one another, furnishes a consideration of much larger extent. To judge whether, as a general provision, this can be deem- ed an evz/, even so far as we understand its consequences, which, probably, is a partial understanding, the following reflections are fit to be attended to. 1. Immortality upon this earth is out of the question. Without death there could be no generation, no sexes, no parental relation, that is, as things are constituted, no ani- mal happiness. The particular duration of life’ assigned to different animals can form no part of the objection; be- cause, whatever that duration be, while it remains finite and limited, it may always be asked why it is no longer. The natural age of different animals varies from a single day to a century of years. No account can be given of this ; nor could any be given, whatever other proportion of life had obtained among them. The term then of life in different animals being the same as it is, the question is, what mode of taking it away is the best even for the animal itself? Now, according to the established order of nature— which we must suppose to prevail, or we cannot reason at all upon the subject—the three methods by which life is usually put an end to, are acute diseases, decay, and vio- lence. The simple and natural life of drwtes is not often visited by acute distempers ; nor could it be deemed an im- provement of their lot if they were. Let it be considered, therefore, in what a condition of suflerimg and misery a brute animal is placed which is left to perish by decay. In hu- man sickness or infirmity, there is the assistance of man’s rational fellow-creatures, if not to alleviate his pains, at least to minister to his necessities, and to supply the place of hisGOODNESS OF THE DBITY. 307 own activity. A brute, in his wild and natural state, does every thing for himself. When his strength, therefore, or his speed, or his limbs, or his senses fail him, he is delivered over either to absolute famine or to the protracted wretch- edness of a life slowly wasted by the scarcity of food. Is it then to see the world filled with drooping, superannuated, half-starved, helpless, and unhelped animals, that you would alter the present system of pursuit and prey ? 2. Which system is also to them the spring of motion and activity on both sides. The pursuit of its prey forms the employment, and appears to constitute the pleasure of a considerable part of the animal creation. The using of the means of defence, or flight, or precaution, forms also the business of another part. And even of this latter tribe, we have no reason to suppose that their happiness is much molested by their fears. Their danger exists continually ; and im some cases they seem to be so far sensible of it as to provide, in the best manner they can, against it; but it is only when the attack is actually made upon them that they appear to suffer from it. To contemplate the insecurity of their condition with anxiety and dread, requires a degree of reflection which, happily for themselves, they do not pos- sess. A hare, notwithstanding the number of its dangers and its enemies, is as playful an animal as any other. 2 oO. 3. But, to do justice to the question, the system of ani- mal destruction ought always to be considered in strict con- nection with another property of animal nature, namely, superfecundity. They are countervailing qualities. One subsists by the correction of the other. In treating, there- fore, of the subject under this view—which is, I believe, the true one our business will be, first, to pomt out the advan- tages which are gained by the powers in nature of a super- abundant multiplication ; and then to show that these ad- vantages are so many reasons for appointing that system of national hostilities which we are endeavoring to account for. eee see re eee Se ee eet es Ty: ee ee q F SESS EY SR Eee ee See SS Eee OS ey OE Sat Seb ee eee eae pee pe ee ee Te ee ee ae oe 2 ee et ee308 NATURAL THEOLGGY. Gea In almost all cases, nature produces her supplies with | profusion. A single codfish spawns, in one season, a greater AadL number of eggs than all the inhabitants of England amount to. A thousand other instances of prolific generation might | if be stated, which, though not equal to this, would carry on [ foe By the increase of the species with a rapidity which outruns calculation, and to an immeasurable extent. The advan- ee Se See Sa ee See ee ee es tages of such a constitution are two: first, that it tends to keep the world always full; while, secondly, it allows the proportion between the several species of animals to be dif- ferently modified, as different purposes require, or as differ- ent situations may aflord for them room and food. Where this vast fecundity meets with a vacancy fitted to receive the species, there it operates with its whole effect—there it PP e Pag elsePevesssr sessing pours in its numbers and replenishes the waste. We com- plain of what we call the exorbitant multiplication of some troublesome insects; not reflecting that large portions of nature might be left void without it. If the accounts of travellers may be depended upon, immense tracts of forest in North America would be nearly lost to sensitive existence, if it were not for gnats. ‘In the thinly inhabited regions ce of America, in which the waters stagnate and the climate Ese ee is warm, the whole air is filled with crowds of these in- sects.” Thus it is, that where we looked for solitude and death-like silence, we meet with animation, activity, enjoy- ment—with a busy, a happy, and a peopled world. Again, hosts of mzce are reckoned among the plagues of the north- east part of Europe; whereas vast plains in Siberia, as we learn from good authority, would be lifeless without them. The Caspian deserts are converted by their presence into crowds of warrens. Between the Volga and the Yaik, and in the country of Hyrcania, the ground, says Pallas, is in many places covered with little hills, raised by the earth cast out in forming the burrows. Do we so envy these blissful abodes, as to pronounce the fecundity by which they are supplied with inhabitants to be an evil; a subject ofGOODNESS OF TEE DEITY. 309 complaint, and not of praise? Further, by virtue of this same superfecundity, what we term destruction becomes almost instantly the parent of life. What we call blights are oftentimes legions of animated beings, claiming their portion in the bounty of nature. What corrupts the pro- duce of the earth to us, prepares it for them. And it is by means of their rapid multiplication that they take posses- sion of their pasture; a slow propagation would not meet the opportunity. But in conjunction with the occasional use of this fruit- fulness, we observe, also, that it allows the proportion be- tween the several species of animals to be differently modi- fied, as different purposes of utility may require. When the forests of America come to be cleared, and the swamps drained, our gnats will give place to other inhabitants. If the population of Europe should spread to the north and the east, the mice will retire before the husbandman and the shepherd, and yield their station to herds and flocks. In what concerns the human species, it may be a part of the scheme of Providence, that the earth should be inhabited by a shifting, or perhaps a circulating population. In this economy, it is possible that there may be the following ad- vantages. When old countries are become exceedingly cor- rupt, simpler modes of life, purer morals, and better institu- tions, may rise up im new ones, while fresh soils reward the cultivator with more plentiful returns. Thus the different portions of the globe come into use im succession, as the res- idence of man; and, in his absence, entertain other guests, which, by their sudden multiplication, fill the chasm. In domesticated animals, we find the effect of their fecundity to be, that we can always command numbers; we can always have as many of any particular species as we please, or as we can support. Nor do we complain of its excess; it being much more easy to regulate abundance than to supply scarcity. But then this swperfecundity, though of great occasional Tee Pee BY Pa Pople paseapegeie es sf es ssese RSet ye ee ee eee ee eee eed Or a a a a tall ae ee te eeGee Tes ee eee eee ee eee eee LS te eee ee SrSesers ore tere crs. ee ee ee ee Ca Re a in Po SY tn fn aS ie 310 NATURAL THEOLOGY. use and importance, exceeds the ordinary capacity of nature to receive or support its progeny. All superabundance sup- poses destruction, or must destroy itself. Perhaps there is no species of terrestrial animals whatever which would not overrun the earth, if it were permitted to multiply in per- fect safety ; or of fish, which would not fill the ocean: at least, if any single species were left to their natural increase without disturbance or restraint, the food of other species would be exhausted by their maintenance. It is necessary, therefore, that the effects of such prolific faculties be cur- tailed. In conjunction with other checks and limits, all subservient to the same purpose, are the thinnings which take place among animals by their action upon one another. In some instances, we ourselves experience, very directly, the use of these hostilities. One species of insect rids us of another species, or reduces their ranks. A third species, perhaps, keeps the second within bounds ; and birds or liz- ards are a fence against the inordinate increase by which even these last might infest us. In other, more numerous, and possibly more important instances, this disposition of things, although less necessary or useful to us, and of course less observed by us, may be necessary and useful to certain other species; or even for the preventing of the loss of certain a misfortune which seems to be species from the universe studiously guarded against. Though there may be the ap- pearance of failure in some of the details of nature’s works, in her great purposes there never are. Her species never fail. The provision which was originally made for continu- ing the replenishment of the world, has proved itself to be effectual through a long succession of ages. What further shows that the system of destruction among animals holds an express relation to the system of fecundity, that they are parts mdeed of one compensatory scheme, is, that in each species the fecundity bears a pro- portion to the smallness of the animal, to the weakness, to the shortness of its natural term of life, and to the dangersGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. alt and enemies by which it is surrounded. An elephant pro- duces but one calf; a butterfly lays six hundred eg o es. Birds of prey seldom produce more than two eggs; the sparrow tribe and the duck tribe frequently sit upon a dozen. In the rivers, we meet with a thousand minnows for one pike ; in the sea, a million of herrings for a single shark. Com- pensation obtains throughout. Defencelessness and devasta- tion are repaired by fecundity. We have dwelt the longer on these considerations, be- cause the subject to which they apply, namely; that of ani- mals devouring one another, forms the chief, if not the only instance, in the works of the Deity, of an economy, stamped by marks of design, in which the character of util- ity can be called in question. The case of venomous ani- mals is of much inferior consequence to the case of prey, and, in some degree, is also included under it. To both cases it is probable that many more reasons belong than those of which we are in possession. Our FIRST PROPOSITION, and that which we have hith- erto been defending, was, ‘‘that in a vast plurality of in- stances, in which contrivance is perceived, the desvgn of the contrivance is deneficial.”’ Our SECOND PROPOSITION is, ‘‘ that the Deity has added pleasure to animal sensations beyond what was necessary for any other purpose, or when the purpose, so far as it was necessary, might have been effected by the operation of pain.” This proposition may be thus explained. The capaci- ties which, according to the established course of nature, are necessary to the support or preservation of an animal, however manifestly they may be the result of an organiza- tion contrived for the purpose, can only be deemed an act or a part of the same will as that which decreed the exist- ence of the animal itself; because, whether the creation proceeded from a benevolent or a malevolent being, these capacities must have been siven, if the animal existed at Peesenseteses Soo peeks saws gs FSS a eee ee ee ee ee eee ee re ey ea Pe ae eee eS Ce eS eee pe es eae poet ee ee et ee eePtr ee beer wb we bess 5 es MEV es eeTs al fe a Eee 2 es en oe ed ee oe ree ae od é Sie NATURAL THEOLOGY. all. Animal properties, therefore, which fall under this de- scription, do not strictly prove the goodness of God: they may prove the existence of the Deity ; they may prove a high degree of power and intelligence : but they do not prove his goodness ; forasmuch as they must have been found in any creation which was capable of continuance, although it is possible to suppose that such a creation might have been produced by a being whose views rested upon misery. But there is a class of properties which may be said to be superadded from’ an intention expressly directed to hap- piness—an intention to give a happy existence distinct from the general intention of providing the means of existence ; and that is, of capacities for pleasure in cases wherein, so far as the conservation of the individual or of the species 1s concerned, they were not wanted, or wherein the purpose might have been secured by the operation of pain. The provision which is made of a variety of objects not necessary to life, and ministering only to our pleasures, and the prop- erties given to the necessaries of life themselves, by which they contribute to pleasure as well as preservation, show a further design than that of giving existence.* A single instance will make all this clear. Assuming the necessity of food for the support of animal life, it is requi- site that the animal be provided with organs fitted for the procuring, receiving, and digesting of its food. ‘It may also be necessary, that the animal be impelled by its sensations to exert its organs. But the pain of hunger would do all this. Why add pleasure to the act of eating; sweetness and relish to food? Why a new and appropriate sense for the perception of the pleasure? Why should the juice of a peach applied to the palate, aflect the part so diflerently * See this topic considered in Dr. Balguy’s Treatise upon the Di- vine Benevolence. This excellent author first, 1 think, proposed it, and nearly in the terms in which it is here stated. Some other obser- vations also under this head are taken from that treatise.GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. ols from what it does when rubbed upon the palm of the hand? his is a constitution which, so far as appears to me, can be resolved into nothing but the pure benevolence of the Crea- tor. Hating is necessary, but the pleasure attending it is not necessary ; and that this pleasure depends not only upon our being in possession of the sense of taste, which is differ- ent from every other, but upon a particular state of the organ in which it resides, a felicitous adaptation of the organ to the object, will be confessed by any one who may happen to have experienced that vitiation of taste which frequently occurs in fevers, when every taste is irregular, and every one bad. In mentioning the gratifications of the palate, it may be said that we have made choice of a trifling example. Iam not of that opinion. They afford a share of enjoyment to man; but to brutes I believe that they are of very great importance. A horse at liberty passes a great part of his walking hours in eating. ‘To the ox, the sheep, the deer, and other ruminating animals, the pleasure is doubled. Their whole time almost is divided between browsing upon their pasture and chewing their cud. Whatever the pleasure be, it is spread over a large portion of their existence. If there be animals, such as the lupous fish, which-swallow their prey whole and at once, without any time, as it should seem, for either drawing out or relishing the taste in the mouth, is it an improbable conjecture, that the seat of taste with them is in the stomach; or at least, that a sense of pleasure, whether it be taste or not, accompanies the dissolution of the food in that receptacle, which dissolution in general is varried on very slowly? If this opinion be right, they are more than repaid for the defect of palate. The feast lasts as long as the digestion. In seeking for argument, we need not stay to insist upon the comparative importance of our example; for the ob- servation holds equally of all, or of three at least of the other senses. The necessary purposes of hearine might have Nat. Theol. 14 eae tt eb : ; Pe Peeper rte Tee tee eT eee ee re ed eee vee ee ee ee ee eS See Poa ee ee ee eee eae eee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee oe ee ee eelL te eeees Mpeg deve Pee ESTES eae pee de ee oe ee eg Sage ieeyotes ee et ees 5 ee 314 NATURAL THEOLOGY. been answered without harmony; of smell, without fra- erance ; of vision, without beauty. Now, “ if the Deity had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, we must 1m- pute to our good fortune—as all design by this supposition is excluded—both the capacity of our senses to receive pleas- ure, and the supply of external objects fitted to excite ibaa I allege these as ¢wo felicities, for they are different things, yet both necessary: the sense being formed, the objects which were applied to it might not have suited 1t ; the ob- jects being fixed, the sense might not have agreed with them. A coincidence is here required which no accident can account for. . There are three possible suppositions upon the subject, and no more. The first, that the sense, by its original constitution, was made to suit the object; the sec- ond, that the object, by its original constitution, was made to suit the sense; the third, that the sense is so constituted as to be able, either universally or within certain limits, by habit and familiarity, to render every object pleasant. Which- ever of these suppositions we adopt, the effect evinces on the part of the Author of nature a studious benevolence. If the pleasures which we derive from any of our senses depend upon an original congruity between the sense and the prop- erties perceived by it, we know by experience that the ad- justment demanded, with respect to the qualities which were conferred upon the objects that surround us, not only choice and selection, out of a boundless variety of possible qualities with’ which these objects might have been endued, but a proportioning also of degree, because an excess or defect of intensity spoils the perception as much almost as an error in the kind and nature of the quality. Likewise the degree of dulness or acuteness in the sense itself is no arbitrary thing, but in order to preserve the congruity here spoken of, requires to be in an exact or near correspondency with the strength of the impression. The dulness of the senses forms the complaint of old-age. Persons in fevers, and I believe in most maniacal cases, experience great torment from theirGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 315 preternatural acuteness. An increased, no less than an im- paired sensibility, induces a state of disease and suffering. The doctrine of a specific congruity between animal senses and their objects, is strongly favored by what is ob- served of insects in the election of their food. Some of these will feed upon one kind of plant or animal, and upon no other ; some caterpillars upon the cabbage alone, some upon the black currant alone. The species of caterpillar which eats the vine, will starve upon the alder; nor will that which we find upon fennel touch the rose-bush. Some in- sects confine themselves to two or three kinds of plants or animals, Some, again, show so strong a preference, as to afford reason to believe, that though they may be driven by hunger to others, they are led by the pleasure of taste to a few particular plants alone; and all this, as it should seem, independently of habit or imitation. But should we accept the third hypothesis, and even carry it so far as to ascribe every thing which concerns the question to habit—as in certain species, the human species most particularly, there is reason to attribute something— we have then before us an animal capacity, not less perhaps to be admired than the native congruities which the other scheme adopts. It cannot be shown to result from any fixed necessity in nature, that what is frequently applied to the senses should of course become agreeable to them. It is, so far as it subsists, a power of accommodation provided in these senses by the Author of their structure, and forms a part of their perfection. In whichever way we regard the senses, they appear to be specific gifts, ministering not only to preservation, but to pleasure. But what we usually call the senses, are probably themselves far from being the only vehicles of enjoyment, or the whole of our constitution which is calculated for the same purpose. We have many internal sensations of the most agreeable kind, hardly referable to any of the five senses. Some physiologists have held that all secretion is tee i PS Pee Seness FS eee eee ee ee Oe es ee ee ae 2 ee ee ee et Dar ee SWS CL psa eGaeaksveers = Tee e ce teat eee ees es tr taps teseseee eee ele cS aay epess dew lye J a a ee ee Te 316 NATURAL THEOLOGY. pleasurable ; and that the complacency which in health, without any external assignable object to excite it, we derive from life itself, is the effect of our secretions gomg on well within us. All this may be true ;- but if true, what reason can be assigned for it, except the will of the Cr ator.) ee may reasonably be asked, Why is any thing a pleasure? and I know no answer which can be returned to the question but that which refers it to appoimtment. We can give no account whatever of our pleasures im the simple and original perception ; and even when physical sensations are assumed, we can seldom account for them in the secondary and complicated shapes in which they take the name of diversions. I never yet met with a sportsman who could tell me in what the sport consisted—who could resolve it into its principle, and state that principle. I have been a ereat follower of fishing myself, and in its cheerful solitude have passed some of the happiest hours of a sufficiently happy life; but to this moment I could never trace out the source of the pleasure which it afford- ed me. The “quantum in rebus inane!” whether applied to our amusements or to our graver pursuits, to which, in truth, it sometimes equally belongs, is always an unjust complaint. If trifles engage, and if trifles make us happy, the true reflec- tion suggested by the experiment is upon the tendency of nature to gratification and enjoyment ; which is, in other words, the goodness of its Author towards his sensitive cre- ation. Rational natures also, as such, exhibit qualities which help to confirm the truth of our position. The degree of understanding found in mankind is usually much greater than what is necessary for mere preservation. The pleas- ure of choosing for themselves, and of prosecuting the object of their choice, should seem to be an original source of en- joyment. The pleasures received from things great, beauti- ful, or new, from imitation or from the liberal arts, are inGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 317 some measure not only superadded, but unmixed gratifica- tions, having no pains to balance them.* I do not know whether our attachment to property be not something more than the mere dictate of reason, or even than the mere effect of association. Property communicates a charm to whatever is the object of it. It is the first of our abstract ideas; it cleaves to us the closest and the lon- gest. It endears to the child its plaything, to the peasant his cottage, to the landholder his estate. It supplies the place of prospect and scenery. Instead of coveting the beauty of distant situations, it teaches every man to find it in his own. It gives boldness and grandeur to plains and fens, tinge and coloring to clays and fallows. All these considerations come in aid of our second propo- sition. The reader will now bear in mind what our two propositions were. They were, firstly, that in a vast plu- rality of instances in which contrivance is perceived, the de- sign of the contrivance is beneficial; secondly, that the Deity has added pleasure to animal sensations beyond what was necessary for any other purpose, or when the purpose, so far as it was necessary, might have been effected by the opera- tion of pain. While these propositions can be maintained, we are au- thorized to ascribe to the Deity the character of benevolence ; and what is benevolence at all, must in him be znfinite be- nevolence, by reason of the infinite, that is to say, the incal- culably great number of objects upon which it is exercised. Of the ORIGIN OF EVIL, no universal solution has been discovered ; I] mean, no solution which reaches to all cases of complamt. The most comprehensive is that which arises from the consideration of general rules. We may, I think, without much difficulty, be brought to admit the four fol- lowing points: first, that important advantages may accrue to the universe from the order of nature proceeding accord- * Balguy on the Divine Benevolence. eo ee TC ce Tee ee eee Pie et ek he Se ee ee er es ee oo eee BoA Rte es Cc esegs bi gis SSesees epee de hewans + cde eFES8S S352 35854055ceeearee Seer e ee ree ei ee ad Seep esssss Ses te ee ee é 318 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ing to general laws; secondly, that general laws, however well set and constituted, often thwart and cross one another ; thirdly, that from these thwartings and crossings, frequent particular inconveniences will arise; and fourthly, that it agrees with our observations to suppose that some degree of these inconveniences takes place in the works of nature. These points may be allowed ; and it may also be asserted, that the general laws with which we are acquainted are directed to beneficial ends. On the other hand, with many of these laws we are not acquainted at all, or we are totally unable to trace them in their branches and in their opera- tion; the effect of which ignorance is, that they cannot be of importance to us as measures by which to regulate our conduct. The conservation of them may be of importance in other respects, or to other beings, but we are uninformed of their value or use; uninformed, consequently, when and how far they may or may not be suspended, or their eflects turned aside by a presiding and benevolent will, without incurring greater evils than those which would be avoided. The consideration, therefore, of general laws, although it may concern the question of the origin of evil very nearly, which I think it does, rests in views disproportionate to our faculties, and in a knowledge which we do not possess. It serves rather to account for the obscurity of the subject, than to supply us with distinct answers to our difficulties. How- ever, while we assent to the above-stated propositions as principles, whatever uncertainty we may find in the appli- cation, we lay a ground for believing that cases of apparent evil, for which we can suggest no particular reason, are gov- erned by reasons which are more general, which le deeper in the order of second causes, and which on that account are removed to a greater distance from us. The doctrine of zmperfections, or, as it is called, of evils of imperfection, furnishes an account, founded, like the for- mer, in views of universal nature. The doctrine is briefly this: it is probable that creation may be better replenishedGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. So by sensitive beings of different sorts, than by sensitive beings all of one sort. It is likewise probable, that it may be bet- ter replenished by different orders of beings rising one above another in gradation, than by beings possessed of equal de- grees of perfection. Now, a gradation of such beings implies a gradation of imperfections. No class can justly complain of the imperfections which belong to its place in the scale, unless if were allowable for it to complain that a scale of being was appointed in nature; for which appointment there appear to be reasons of wisdom and goodness. In like manner, finzteness, or what is resolvable into finiteness, in inanimate subjects, can never be a just subject of complaint ; because if it were ever so, it would be always so: we mean, that we can never reasonably demand that things should be larger or more, when the same demand might be made, whatever the quantity or number was. And to me it seems that the sense of mankind has so far acquiesced in these reasons, as that we seldom complain of evils of this class, when we clearly perceive them to be such. What I have to add, therefore, is, that we ought not to complain of some other evils which stand upon the same foot of vindication as evils of confessed imperfection. We never complain that the globe of our earth is too small, nor should we complain if it were even much smaller. But where is the difference to us, between a less globe, and part of the present being uninhabitable? The inhabitants of an island may be apt enough to murmur at the sterility of some parts of it, against its rocks, or sands, or swamps; but no one thinks himself authorized to murmur, simply because the island is not larger than it is. Yet these are the same eriefs. The above are the two metaphysical answers which have been given to this great question. They are not the worse for being metaphysical, provided they be founded—which I think they are—in right reasoning ; but they are of a nature too wide to be brought under our survey, and it is often dif- ¥ Fy es feces oss Forte LSS @ So epee sae ee ge la es = See eS ee ee ee ee et Eee ee Pee GS cl ssasGatowate rs ee ee ee ee ene re eete te La Shae Se a a Cetra eee eo eS Tio. ee ee ee7 io 320 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ficult to apply them in the detail. Our speculations, there- fore, are perhaps better employed when they confine them- selves within a narrower circle. The observations which follow are of this more limited, but more determinate kind. Of bodily pain, the principal observation, no doubt, 1s that which we have already made and already dwelt upon, namely, “that it is seldom the object of contrivance ; that when it is so, the contrivance rests ultimately m good.” To which, however, may be added, that the annexing of pain to the means of destruction is a salutary provision ; inasmuch as it teaches vigilance and caution: both gives notice of danger, and excites those endeavors which may be necessary to preservation. The evil consequence which sometimes arises from the want of that timely intimation of danger which pain gives, is known to the habitants of cold countries by the example of frost-bitten limbs. 1 have con- versed with patients who had lost toes and fingers by this cause. They have in general told me, that they were totally unconscious of any local uneasiness at the time. Some I have heard declare, that while they were about their em- ployment, neither their situation nor the state of the air was unpleasant. They felt no pain, they suspected no mischief, till, by the application of warmth, they discovered, too late, the fatal injury which some of their extremities had suffered. I say that this shows the use of pain, and that we stand in need of such a monitor. I believe also, that the use extends farther than we suppose, or can now trace; that to disa- greeable sensations we and all animals owe, or have owed, many habits of action which are salutary, but which are be- come so familiar as not easily to be referred to their origin. Pain also itself is not without its alleviatzons. It may be violent and frequent, but it is seldom both violent and long-continued ; and its pauses and intermissions become positive pleasures. It has the power of shedding a satistac- tion over intervals of ease, which I believe few enjoymentsGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. O21 exceed. A man resting from a fit of the stone or gout is, for the time, in possession of feelings which undisturbed health cannot impart. They may be dearly bought, but still they are to be set against the price. And indeed it depends upon the duration and urgency of the pain, whether 1ey be dearly bought or not. I am far from being sure that a man is not a gainer by suffering a moderate interrup- tion of bodily ease for a couple of hours out of the four and twenty. ‘T'wo very common observations favor this opinion : one is, that remissions of pain call forth, from those who experience them, stronger expressions of satisfaction and of 1 A | pane gratitude towards both the author and the instruments of their relief, than are excited by advantages of any other kind; the second is, that the spirits of sick men do not sink in proportion to the acuteness of their sufferings, but rather appear to be roused and supported, not by pain, but by the high degree of comfort which they derive from its cessation, or even its subsidency, whenever that occurs; and which they taste with a relish that diffuses some portion of mental complacency over the whole of that mixed state of sensa- tions in which disease has placed them. In connection with bodily pain may be considered bodily disease, whether painful or not. Few diseases are fatal. I have before me the account of a dispensary in the neighbor- hood, which states six years’ experience as follows: Admitted, fos ee ee eG AO Cire... ee 5,476 Wed ee - a4 And this I suppose nearly to agree with what other similar institutions exhibit. Now, in all these cases, some disorder must have been felt, or the patients would not have applied for a remedy ; yet we see how largea proportion of the mal- adies. which were brought forward, have either yielded to proper treatment, or, what is more probable, ceased of their own accord. We owe these frequent recoveries, and, where pe F Pes eee LpSp i cendsaelgersgs rseressse rssh See ew a eS ae ea ee eS PeLeSpeS SSIS PARI OR REE Hos OPS SaRA ERE Se a a ek ae alti322 NATURAL THEOLOGY. recovery does not take place, this patience of the human a constitution under many of the distempers by which it is visited, to two benefactions of our nature. One is, that she works within certain limits, allows of a certain latitude : ib within which health may be preserved, and within the con- nie fines of which it only suffers a graduated diminution. Dif- ferent quantities of food, different degrees of exercise, differ- ore tet Tee ces le eee ee a ee ent portions of sleep, different states of the atmosphere, are compatible with thé possession of health. So likewise it 1s Stes eseseye with the secretions and excretions, with many internal func- tions of the body, and with the state, probably, of most of its internal organs. They may vary considerably, not only with- out destroying life, but without occasioning any high degree of inconveniency. The other property of our nature, to which ek og ess eee ee te we are still more beholden, is its constant endeavor to restore itself, when disordered, to its regular course. The fluids of eecw kee es the body appear to possess a power of separating and expel- ling any noxious substance which may have mixed itself with ee aot aed them. This they do, in eruptive fevers, by a kind of despu- mation, as Sydenham calls it, analogous in some measure to the intestine action by which fermenting liquors work the yeast to the surface. The solids, on their part, when their action is obstructed, not only resume that action as soon as the obstruction is removed, but they struggle with the imped- iment. They take an action as near to the true one as the difficulty and the disorganization with which they have to i ha ata le ice ta ae ee a oe te contend will allow of. Of mortal diseases, the great use is to reconcile us to death. The horror of death proves the value of life. But it is in the power of disease to abate, or even extinguish this Ce Be oA Bn horror ; which it does in a wonderful manner, and often- times by a mild and imperceptible gradation. Every man who has been placed in a situation to observe it, is surprised with the change which has been wrought in himself, when eee Oe ae eee ae he compares the view which he entertains of death upon a sick-bed, with the heart-sinking dismay with which he shouldGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 323 some time ago have met it in health. There is no simili- tude between the sensations of a man led to execution and the calm expiring of a patient at the close of his disease. Death to him is only the last of a long train of changes ; in his progress through which, it is possible that he may expe- rience no shocks or sudden transitions. Death itself, as a mode of removal and of succession, is so connected with the whole order of our animal world, that almost every thing in that world must be changed, to be able to do without it. It may seem likewise impossible to separate the fear of death from the enjoyment of life, or the perception of that fear from rational natures. Brutes are in a great measure delivered from all anxiety on this account by the inferiority of their faculties; or rather, they seem to be armed with the apprehension of death just sufficiently to put them upon the means of preservation, and no further. But would a human being wish to purchase this immunity at the expense of those mental powers which enable him to look forward to the future ? Death implies separation; and the loss of those whom we love must necessarily, so far as we can conceive, be ac- companied with pain. To the brute creation, nature seems to have stepped in with some secret provision for their relief, under the rupture of their attachments. In their instincts towards their offspring, and of their offspring to them, I have often been surprised to observe how ardently they love and how soon they forget. The pertinacity of human sor- row—upon which time also at length lays its softening hand—is probably, therefore, in some manner connected with the qualities of our rational or moral nature. One thing however is clear, namely, that it is better that we should possess affections, the sources of so many virtues and so many joys, although they be exposed to the incidents of life as well as the interruptions of mortality, than, by the want of them, be reduced to a state of selfishness, apathy, and quietism. senda peettire Peete ss a4 erery errr ree es, eee ere ore eee ee eTete Re ceca eee Seer e eer eS eee. a SHREv eS es ws es poy Hose ree ae aed eS SE shes bt et eS ne ee 2 te Ee 324 NATURAL THEOLOGY. Of other external evils—still confining ourselves to what are called physical or natural evils—a considerable part come within the scope of the following observation : the great principle of human satisfaction is engagement. It is a most just distinction, which the late Mr. Tucker has dwelt upon so largely in his works, between pleasures in which we are passive and pleasures in which we are active. And I be- lieve every attentive observer of human life will assent to his position, that however grateful the sensations may occa- sionally be in which we are passive, it is not these, but the latter class of our pleasures, which constitute satisfaction— which supply that regular stream of moderate and miscella- neous enjoyments in which happiness, as distinguished from voluptuousness, consists. Now for rational occupation, which is, in other words, the very material of contented existence, there would be no place left, if either the things with which we had to do were absolutely impracticable to our endeavors, or if they were too obedient to our uses. A world furnished with advantages on one side, and beset with difhi- culties, wants, and inconveniences on the other, is the proper abode of free, rational, and active natures, beimg the fittest to stimulate and exercise their faculties. The very refrac- toriness of the objects they have to deal with, contributes to this purpose. A world in which nothing depended upon ourselves, however it might have suited an imaginary race of beings, would not have suited mankind. Their skill, pru- dence, industry—their various arts and their best attain- ments, from the application of which they draw, if not their highest, their most permanent oratifications, would be insig- nificant, if things could be either moulded by our volitions, or, of their own accord, conformed themselves to our views and wishes. Now it is in this refractoriness that we discern: the seed and principle of phystcal evil, as far as it arises from that which is external to us. Civil evils, or the evils of civil life, are much more easily disposed of than physical evils; because they are, im truth,GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 328 of much less magnitude, and also because they result, by a kind of necessity, not only from the constitution of our nature, but from a part of that constitution which no one would wish to see altered. The case is this: mankind will in every country breed wp to a certain point of distress. Tha point may be different in different countries or ages, accord- ing to the established usages of life in each. It will also shift upon the scale, so as to admit of a greater or less num- ber of inhabitants, according as the quantity of provision, which is either produced in the country, or supplied to it from other countries, may happen to vary. But there must always be such a point, and the species will always breed up to it. The order of generation proceeds by something like a geometrical progression. The increase of provision, under circumstances even the most advantageous, can only assume the form of an arithmetic series. Whence it follows that the population will always overtake the provision, will pass beyond the line of plenty, and will continue to increase till checked by the difficulty of procuring subsistence.* Such difficulty, therefore, along with its attendant circumstances, must be found in every old country ; and these circumstan- ces constitute what we call poverty, which necessarily im- poses labor, servitude, restraint. It seems impossible to people a country with inhabitants who shall be all easy in circumstances. For suppose the thing to be done, there would be such marrying and giving in marriage among them, as would in a few years change the face of affairs entirely ; that is, as would increase the consumption of those articles which supplied the natural or habitual wants of the country to such a degree of scarcity, as must leave the greatest part of the habitants unable to procure them without toilsome endeavors ; or, out of the dif- ferent kinds of these articles, to procure any kind except that which was most easily produced. And this, in fact, de- * See a statement of this subject in a late treatise upon popula- tion. Sereyr er cr ree certs Pati tat ties ee ee ee ae a te pea ee ee ee ee ee eee ee ee ee ee ee ee eeeet Pee eee ee se Sack cee Se od oe SPeseress tenses foes ag ee eee es 326 NATURAL THEOLOGY. scribes the condition of the mass of the community in all countries: a condition unavoidably, as it should seem, result- ing from the provision which is made in the human, in com- mon with all animal constitutions, for the perpetuity and multiplication of the species. It need not however dishearten any endeavors for the public service, to know that population naturally treads upon the heels of improvement. If the condition of a people be meliorated, the consequence will be, either that the mean happiness will be increased, or a greater number partake of it; or, which is most likely to happen, that both effects will take place together. There may be limits fixed by nature to both, but they are limits not yet attained, nor even ap- proached, in any country of the world. And when we speak of limits at all, we have respect only to provisions for animal wants. There are sources, and means, and auxiliaries, and augmentations of human happiness, communicable without restriction of numbers ; as capable of being possessed by a thousand persons as by one. Such are those which flow from a mild, contrasted with a tyrannie government, whether civil or domestic ; those which spring from religion; those which grow out ot a sense of security ; those which depend upon habits of vir- tue, sobriety, moderation, order; those, lastly, which are found in the possession of well-directed tastes and desires, compared with the dominion of tormenting, pernicious, con- tradictory, unsatisfied, and unsatisfiable passions. The distinctions of civil life are apt enough to be regard- ed as evils by those who sit under them; but, in my opin- ion, with very little reason. In the first place, the advantages which the higher con- ditions of life are supposed to confer, bear no proportion in value to the advantages which are bestowed by nature. The gifts of nature always surpass the gifts of fortune. How much, for example, is activity better than attendance ; beau- ty than dress; appetite, digestion, and tranquil bowels, thanGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. o2t all the studies of cookery, or than the most costly compila- tion of forced or far-fetched dainties ! Nature has a strong tendency to equalization. Habit, the instrument of nature, is a great leveller; the familiarity which it induces taking off the edge both of our pleasures Indulgences which are habitual, keep So that with respect to the gratifications of which the senses are capable, the difference is by no means proportionable to the Nay, so far as superfluity generates fastidious- and our sufferings. us in ease, and cannot be carried much further. apparatus. ness, the difference is on the wrong side. It is not necessary to contend, that the advantages de- rived from wealth are none—under due regulations they are certainly considerable—but that they are not greater than they ought to be. Money is the sweetener of human toil ; the substitute for coercion; the reconciler of labor with lib- erty. It is, moreover, the stimulant of enterprise im all proj- ects and undertakings, as well as of diligence in the most beneficial arts and employments. Now, did affluence, when possessed, contribute nothing to happiness. or nothing be- yond the mere supply of necessaries, and the secret should come to be discovered, we might be in danger of losing great part of the uses which are at present derived to us through this important medium. Not only would the tranquillity of social life be put in peril by the want of a motive to attach men to their private concerns; but the satisfaction which all men receive from success in their respective occupations, which collectively constitutes the great mass of human com- fort, would be done away in its very principle. __ With respect to station, as it is distinguished from riches, whether it confer authority over others, or be invested with honors which apply solely to sentiment and imagination, the truth is, that what is gained by rising through the ranks of life, is not more than sufficient to draw forth the exertions of those who are engaged in the pursuits which lead to ad- vancement, and which, in general, are such as ought to be . Ce oe oe ee ES ee ee ee ee ee ee ae SESS SHS hee Sa Wwe RRP MEETS HSWE we Sees Pas ks piteeee ets fhe i 3 F Se et ee ee ee ee SES esi te ke eS ESE SESS eee 5 ee eee ee eee eee ot ee eee eee « 28 NATURAL THEOLOGY. encouraged. Distinctions of this sort are subjects much more of competition than of enjoyment; and in that compe- tition their use consists. It is not, as has been rightly ob- served, by what the lord mayor feels in his coach, but by what the apprentice feels who gazes at him, that the public is served. As we approach the summits of human greatness, the comparison of good and evil, with respect to personal com- fort, becomes still more problematical ; even allowing to am- bition all its pleasures. The poet asks, ‘‘ What is grandeur, Woes oO what is power?” The philosopher answers, ‘‘ Constraint and plague: et in maxim qu que fortun minim m l- cere.” One very common error misleads the opinion of man- kind on this head ; namely, that, universally, authority is pleasant, submission painful. In the general course of hu- man affairs, the very reverse of this is nearer the truth. Command is anxiety, obedience ease. Artificial distinctions sometimes promote real equality. Whether they be hereditary, or be the homage paid to office, or the respect attached by public opinion to particular pro- fessions, they serve to confront that grand and unavoidable distinction which arises from property, and which is most overbearing where there is no other. It is of the nature of property, not only to be irregularly distributed, but to run into large masses. Public laws should be so constructed as to favor its diffusion as much as they can. But all that ean be done by laws, consistently with that degree of government of his property which ought to be left to the subject, will not be sufficient to counteract this tendency. There must always, therefore, be the difference between rich and poor ; and this difference will be the more grinding when no pre- tension is allowed to be set up against it. So that the evils, if evils they must be called, which spring either from the necessary subordinations of civil life, or from the distinctions which have naturally, though not necessarily, grown up in most societies, so lone as they are ys 8 5GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 329 unaccompanied by privileges injurious or oppressive to the rest of the community, are such as may, even by the most depressed ranks, be endured with very little prejudice to their comfort. The mischiefs of which mankind are the occasion to one another, by their private wickednesses and cruelties; by tyrannical exercises of power ; by rebellions against just au- thority ; by wars; by national jealousies and competitions operating to the destruction of third countries; or by other instances of misconduct either in individuals or societies, are all to be resolved into the character of man as a free agent. Free agency, in its very essence, contains liability to abuse. Yet, if you deprive man of his free agency, you subvert his nature. You may have order from him and regularity, as you may from the tides or the trade-winds, but you put an end to his moral character, to virtue, to merit, to accounta- bleness, to the use indeed of reason. To which must be added the observation, that even the bad qualities of mankind have an origin in their good ones. The case is this: human passions are either necessary to human welfare, or capable of being made, and, in a great majority of instances, in fact are rade, conducive to its happiness. These passions are strong and general; and perhaps would not answer their purpose unless they were so. But strength and generality, when it is expedient that particular circumstances should be respect- ed, become, if left to themselves, excess and misdirection : from which excess and misdirection, the vices of mankind, the causes, no doubt, of much misery, appear to spring. This account, while it shows us the principle of vice, shows us, at the same time, the province of reason and of self-gov- ernment ; the want also of every support which can be pro- cured to either from the aids of religion ; and it shows this, without having recourse to any native, gratuitous malignity in the human constitution. Mr. Hume, in his posthumous dialogues, asserts, indeed, of zdleness, or aversion to labor— which he states to lie at the root of a considerable part of + | Pertti ys rex: +e eo Sverre) Tre err eT ie Petts ok el AS SS USI SRECSRSESRA SS lt hn in ie le ARE ime G0 St at ee ee es oy ee ee eee ek eee ee ee ee ae a oe ee oeFee ke rete Teer eer es SPS es oss Soe i et eed SPhPedvigsHteseyvec ee shePerecstenadg ee ee eT dns 2 330 NATURAL THEOLOGY. the evils which mankind suffer—that it is simply and mere- ly bad. But how does he distinguish idleness from the love of ease? Or is he sure that the love of ease in individuals is not the chief foundation of social tranquillity? It will be found, I believe, to be true, that in every community there is a large class of its members whose idleness is the best quality about them, beg the corrective of other bad ones. If it were possible, im every instance, to give a right deter- mination to industry, we could never have too much of it. But this is not possible, if men are to be free. And without this, nothing would be so dangerous as an incessant, univer- sal, indefatigable activity. In the civil world, as well as in the material, it is the vzs znerti@ which keeps things in their places. Naturat Turorocy has ever been pressed with this ques- tion: Why, under the regency of a supreme and benevolent Will, should there be in the world so much as there is of the appearance of chance? The question in its whole compass lies beyond our reach; but there are not wanting, as in the origin of evil, answers which seem to have considerable weight in particular cases, and also to embrace a considerable number of cases. I. There must be chance in the midst of design; by which we mean, that events which are not designed, neces- sarily arise from the pursuit of events which are designed. One man travelling to York, meets another man travelling to London. Their meeting is by chance, is accidental, and so would be called and reckoned, though the journeys which produced the meeting were, both of them, undertaken with design and from deliberation. The meeting, though acci- dental, was nevertheless hypothetically necessary—which is the only sort of necessity that is intelligible—for if the two journeys were commenced at the time, pursued in the direc- tion, and with the speed in which and with which they were in fact begun and performed, the meeting could not beLe ‘ Ac ¥: Prey 3 od b Ps r YS e . ry Zz s ? peabeeepewerrey st ese seer (et Te ort Se eit ee eek k Se GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. dol avoided. There was not, therefore, the less necessity in it for its being by chance. Again, the rencounter might be most unfortunate, though the errand upon which each party set out upon his journey were the most innocent or the most laudable. The by-effect may be unfavorable, without im- peachment of the proper purpose, for the sake of which the train, from the operation of which these consequences en- sued, was put in motion. Although no cause acts without a good purpose, accidental consequences, like these, may be either good or bad. II. The appearance of chance will always bear a pro- portion to the ignorance of the observer. The cast of a die as regularly follows the laws of motion, as the going of a watch; yet, because we can trace the operation of those laws through the works and movements of the watch, and cannot trace them in the shaking or throwing of the die— though the laws be the same, and prevail equally in both cases—we call the turning up of the number of the die chance, the pointing of the index of the watch machinery, order, or by some name which excludes chance. It is the ee a ee Reese cake tetra Buk Ew same in those events which depend upon the will of a free and rational agent. The verdict of a jury, the sentence of a judge, the resolution of an assembly, the issue of a contest- ed election, will have more or less the appearance of chance, might be more or less the subject of a wager, according as we were less or more acquainted with the reasons which influenced the deliberation. The difference resides in the in- formation of the observer, and not in the thing itself; which, in all the cases proposed, proceeds from intelligence, from mind, from counsel, from design. ei pvet de panaven naar es es Pe Se ee See ee eee et ee See ee ee Now, when this one cause of the appearance of chance, namely, the ignorance of the observer, comes to be applied to the operations of the Deity, it is easy to foresee how fruit- ful it must prove of difficulties and of seeming confusion. It is only to think of the Deity, to perceive what variety of objects, what distance of time, what extent of space and ac-Dit ee ee eee ee teehee Sse ee eee eee eS hee oe Se ee ee SN te ae Doles a St pe! ee ee Sete es ee ee ee ae eT 2a ee et eee eee Tet 302 NATURAL THEOLOGY. WI4 tion, his counsels may, or rather must, comprehend. Can it be wondered at, that, of the purposes which dwell in such a mind as this, so small a part should be known to us? It is only necessary, therefore, to bear in our thought, that im proportion to the inadequateness of our information, will be the quantity in the world of apparent chance. III. In a great variety of cases, and of cases compre- hending numerous subdivisions, it appears, for many reasons, to be better that events rise up by chance, or, more properly speaking, with the appearance of chance, than according to any observable rule whatever. This is not seldom the case, even in human arrangements. Each person’s place and precedency, in a public meeting, may be determined by /o¢. Work and labor may be allotted. Tasks and burdens may be allotted : Operumque laborem Partibus equabat justis, aut sorte trahebat. The distribu- tion of provision may be made by lot, as if'1s in a sailor's Military service and station may be allotted. mess; in some cases also, the distribution of favors may be made by lot. In all these cases it seems to be acknow- ledged, that there are advantages in permitting events to chance, superior to those which would or could arise from regulation. In all these cases also, though events rise up in the way of chance, it is by appomtment that they do SO. In other events, and such as are independent of human will, the reasons for this preference of uncertainty to rule appear to be still stronger. For example, it seems to be expedient that the period of human life should be zncer- tain. Did mortality follow any fixed rule, it would produce a security in those that were at a distance from it, which would lead to the greatest disorders ; and a horror in those who approached it, similar to that which a condemned pris- But, that death be uncertain, the young must sometimes die as well oner feels on the might before his execution.GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. S00 as the old. Also, were deaths never sudden, they who are in health would be too confident of life. The strong and the active, who want most to be warned and checked, would live without apprehension or restraint. On the other hand, were sudden deaths very frequent, the sense of constant jeopardy would interfere too much with the degree of ease and enjoyment intended for us; and human life be too pre- carious for the business and interests which belong to it. There could not be dependence either upon our own lives, or the lives of those with whom we were connected, suffi- cient to carry on the regular offices of human society. The manner, therefore, in which death is made to occur, con- duces to the purposes of admonition, without overthrowing the necessary stability of human affairs. Disease being the forerunner of death, there is the same reason for its attacks coming upon us under the appearance of chance, as there is for uncertainty in the time of death itself. The seasons are a mixture of regularity and chance. They are regular enough to authorize expectation, while their being, in a considerable degree, irregular, induces, on the part of the cultivators of the soil, a necessity for personal attendance, for activity, vigilance, precaution. It is this necessity which creates farmers ; which divides the profit of the soil between the owner and the occupier; which by requiring expedients, by increasing employment, and by re- ee et ee sere e warding expenditure, promotes agricultural arts and agri- cultural life—of all modes of life the best, bemg the most conducive to health, to virtue, to enjoyment. I believe it ae ee ee ne Se ee ee ee ee to be found in fact, that where the soil is the most fruitful, and the seasons the most constant, there the condition of the cultivators of the earth is the most depressed. Uncertainty, therefore, has its use even to those who sometimes complain of it the most. Seasons of scarcity themselves are not with- out their advantages. They call forth new exertions; they set contrivance and ingenuity at work; they give birth toSia ee nes sass se awisc sbi gas Sh Be soe a Re or: SERIF AP SPAS PSS REoeS, Peers Foe tl Se. Td ne ore Cito eee Ve NATURAL THEHOTOG Y. improvements in agriculture and economy; they promote investigation and management of public resources. Again, there are strong intelligible reasons why there should exist in human society great disparity of wealth and station ; not only as these things are acquired in different degrees, but at the first setting out of life. In order, for instance, to answer the various demands of civil life, there ought to be among the members of every civil society a diversity of education, which can only belong to an original diversity of circumstances. As this sort of disparity, which ought to take place from the beginning of life, must, ex hy- pothest, be previous to the merit or demerit of the persons upon whom it falls, can it be better disposed of than by chance? Parentage is that sort of chance; yet it is the commanding circumstance which, in general, fixes each man’s place in civil life, along with every thing which ap- pertains to its distinctions. It may be the result of a bene- ficial rule, that the fortunes or honors of the father devolve upon the son; and, as it should seem, of a still more neces- sary rule, that the low or laborious condition of the parent be communicated to his family; but with respect to the successor himself, it is the drawing of a ticket in a lottery. Inequalities, therefore, of fortune, at least the greatest part of them, namely, those which attend us from our birth and depend upon our birth, may be left as they are left, to chance, without any just cause for questioning the regency of a supreme Disposer of events. But not only the donation, when by the necessity of the ease they must be gifts, but even the acguirability of civil advantages, ought perhaps, in a considerable degree, to le at the mercy of chance. Some would have all the virtuous rich, or at least removed from the evils of poverty ; without perceiving, I suppose, the consequence, that all the poor must be wicked. And how such a society could be kept in subjection to government has not been shown ; for the poor, that is, they who seek their subsistence by constant manualGOODNESS CF THE DEITY. 330 labor, must still form the mass of the community; other- wise the necessary labor of life could not be carried on—the work could not be done which the wants of mankind in a state of civilization, and still more in a state of refinement, require to be done. It appears to be also true, that the exigencies of social life call not only for an original diversity of external cireum- stances, but for a mixture of different faculties, tastes, and tempers. Activity and contemplation, restlessness and quiet, courage and timidity, ambition and contentedness, not to say even indolence and dulness, are all wanted in the world, all conduce to the well going on of human affairs ; just as the rudder, the sails, and the ballast of a ship all perform their part in the navigation. Now, since these characters require for their foundation different original talents, different dispositions, perhaps also different bodily constitutions ; and since, likewise, it is apparently expedient that they be pro- miscuously scattered among the different classes of society ; can the distribution of talents, dispositions, and the consti- tutions upon which they depend, be better made than by chance ? The opposites of apparent chance are constancy and sen- sible interposition ; every degree of secret direction being con- sistent with it. Now, of constancy, or of fixed and known rules, we have seen in some cases the inapplicability ; and inconveniences which we do not see, might attend their ap- plication in other cases. Of senszdle interposition we may be permitted to remark, that a providence, always and certainly distinguishable, would be neither more nor less than miracles rendered fre- quent and common. It is difficult to judge of the state into which this would throw us. It is enough to say, that it would cast us upon a quite different dispensation from that under which we live. It would be a total and radical change. And the change would deeply affect, or perhaps subvert, the whole conduct of human affairs. I can readily Severe ct yee ere i Peet Pe te Pe eee a ee eee a Ee pes F ree Fs See ee ee ee ee ee ee re ee ee ee ee ee eh alae dial le al ee ee ee ee ee(eters ete eee eee eee os eer a a tats Ce ee ee ee a ee Be Se Gxeeran fs St ee ee ae NATURAL THEOLOGY. believe that, other cireumstances being adapted to it, such a state might be better than our present state. It may be the state of other beings—it may be ours hereafter ; but the question with which we are now concerned is, how far it would be consistent with our condition, supposing it in other respects to remain as it is? And in this question there seem to be reasons of great moment on the negative side. For instance, so long as bodily labor contmues on so many accounts to be necessary for the bulk of mankind, any dependency upon supernatural aid, by unfixing those motives which promote exertion, or by relaxing those habits which engender patient industry, might introduce negli- sence, inactivity, and disorder, into the most useful occupa- tions of human life; and thereby deteriorate the condition of human life itself. As moral agents, we should experience a still greater alteration ; of which more will be said under the next article. Although, therefore, the Deity, who possesses the power of winding and turning, as he pleases, the course of causes which issue from himself, do in fact mterpose to alter or intercept eflects which, without such interposition, would have taken place; yet it is by no means incredible that his providence, which always rests upon final good, may have made a reserve with respect to the manifestation of his in- terference, a part of the very plan which he has appointed for our terrestrial existence, and a part conformable with, or in some sort required by, other parts of the same plan. It is at any rate evident, that a large and ample province remains for the exercise of providence without its being naturally perceptible by us ; because obscurity, when apphed to the interruption of laws, bears a necessary proportion to the imperfection of our knowledge when applied to the laws themselves, or rather to the effects which these laws, under their various and incalculable combinations, would of their own accord produce. And if it be said that the doctrine of se erGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 33z divine Providence, by reason of the ambiguity under which its exertions present themselves, can be attended with no practical influence upon our conduct—that, although we believe ever so firmly that there is a Providence, we must prepare and provide and act as if there were none, I an- swer that this is admitted ; and that we further allege, that so to prepare, and so to provide, is consistent with the most perfect assurance of the reality of a Providence; and not only so, but that it is probably one advantage of the pres- ent state of our information, that our provisions and prepa- rations are not disturbed by it. Or if it be still asked, Of what use at all, then, is the doctrine, if it neither alter our measures nor regulate our conduct? I answer again, that it is of the greatest use, but that it is a doctrine of senti- ment. and piety, not—immediately at least—of action or conduct ; that it applies to the consolation of men’s minds, to their devotions, to the excitement of gratitude, the sup- port of patience, the keeping alive and the strengthening of every motive for endeavoring to please our Maker ; and that these are great uses. Of aLL views under which human life has ever been considered, the most reasonable, in my judgment, is that which regards it as a state of probation. If the course of the world was separated from the contrivances of nature, I do not know that it would be necessary to look for any other account of it than what, if it may be called an account, is contained in the answer, that events rise up by chance. But since the contrivances of nature decidedly evince 777- tention; and since the course of the world and the contriv- ances of nature have the same author, we are, by the force of this connection, led to believe that the appearance under which events take place is reconcilable with the supposition of design on the part of the Deity. It is enough that they be reconcilable with this supposition ; and it is undoubtedly true that they may be reconcilable, though we cannot rec- oncile them. The mind, however, which contemplates the Nat. Theol, ] ) SSGassS CGS TSS TEESE ESET es tt ee ey Phe Py Se. TES e ey ts eevee se sy See Te ty eee ee 28 Le Ss FURS ESERLESAR SSE SOR SES OSESEL SS FSaRSRS338 NATURAL THEOLOGY. / Pc works of nature, and in those works sees so much of means ) | i | directed to ends, of beneficial effects brought about by wise ra ad expedients, of concerted trains of causes terminating in the happiest results ; so much, im a word, of counsel, intention, “é and benevolence: a mind, I say, drawn into the habit of | thought which these observations excite, can hardly turn its SR, view to the condition of our own species without endeavor- eet te eee eles ee eee eee ing to suggest to itself some purpose, some design, for which the state in which we are placed is fitted, and which it is made to serve. Now we assert the most probable supposi- tion to be, that it is a state of moral probation; and that many things in it suit with this hypothesis which suit no VIL SSPE eset ot gong other. It is not a state of unmixed happiness, or of happi- ness simply ; it is not a state of designed misery, or of mis- a ery simply ; it is not a state of retribution ; it is not a state of punishment. It suits with none of these suppositions. it accords much better with the idea of its being a condition calculated for the production, exercise, and improvement of moral qualities, with a view to a future state, in which these qualities, after being so produced, exercised, and improved, may, by a new and more favorable constitution of things, receive their reward, or become their own. [If it be said, that this is to enter upon a religious rather than a philo- sophical consideration, I answer, that the name of religion ought to form no objection, if it shall turn out to be the case that the more religious our views are, the more probability they contain. The degree of beneficence, of benevolent in- tention, and of power, exercised in the construction of sensi- tive beings, goes strongly in favor, not only of a creative but of a continuing care, that is, of a ruling Providence. The degree of chance which appears to prevail in the world requires to be reconciled with this hypothesis. Now it is aoe one thing to maintain the doctrine of Providence along with pctanes that of a future state, and another thing without it. In my Sk Ph erm, eee opinion, the two doctrines must stand or fall together. For although more of this apparent chance may perhaps, uponGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 339 other principles, be accounted for than is generally supposed, yet a future state alone rectifies all disorders; and if it can be shown that the appearance of disorder is consistent with the uses of life as a preparatory state, or that in some re- spects it promotes these uses, then, so far as this hypothe- sis may be accepted, the ground of the difficulty is done away. In the wide scale of human condition, there*is not per- haps one of its manifold diversities which does not bear upon the design here suggested. Virtue is infinitely various. There is no situation in which a rational being is placed, from that of the best-instructed Christian down to the con- dition of the rudest barbarian, which affords’ not room for moral agency, for the acquisition, exercise, and display of voluntary qualities, good and bad. Health and sickness, enjoyment and suffering, riches and poverty, knowledge and ignorance, power and subjection, liberty and bondage, civil- ization and barbarity, have all their offices and duties, all serve for the formation of character ; for when we speak of a state of trial, it must be remembered that characters are not only tried or proved or detected, but that they are gen- erated also and formed by circumstances. The best dispo- sitions may subsist under the most depressed, the most afflict- ed fortunes. A West Indian slave, who, amid his wrongs, retains his benevolence, I for my part look upon as among the foremost of human candidates for the rewards of virtue. The kind master of such a slave, that is, he who, in the exercise of an inordinate authority, postpones in any degree his own interest to his slave’s comfort, is likewise a merito- rious character; but still he is inferior to his slave. All, however, which I contend for, is, that these destinies, oppo- site as they may be in every other view, are both trials, and equally such. The observation may be applied to every other condition ; to the whole range of the scale, not except- ing even its lowest extremity. Savages appear to us all alike; but it is owing to the distance at which we view ee Tiree eek eee eer see eee eee Oe eer re ras eee ee PS ee eae ee ee eeLicey ts tere es Opp ees Se Peter es beer ewe eee VIE SOPevessseseseiy rae 340 NATURAL THEOLOGY. savage life, that we perceive in it no discrimination of char- acter. I make no doubt but that moral qualities both good and bad are called into action as much, and that they subsist in as great variety in these inartificial societies, as they are or do in polished life. Certain at least it is, that the good and ill treatment which each individual meets with, depends more upon the choice and voluntary conduct of those about him, than it doés, or ought to do, under regular civil institutions and the coercion of public laws. So again, to turn our eyes to the other end of the scale, namely, that part of it which is occupied by mankind enjoying the benefits of learning, together with the lights of revelation, there also the advan- tage is all along probationary. Christianity itself—I mean, the revelation of Christianity—is not only a blessing but a trial, It is one of the diversified means by which the char- acter is exercised; and they who require of Christianity, that the revelation of it should be universal, may possibly be found to require that one species of probation should be adopted, if not to the exclusion of others, at least to the nar- rowing of that variety which the wisdom of the Deity has appointed to this part of his moral economy.* Now, if this supposition be well founded, that is, if it be true that our ultimate or our most permanent happiness will depend, not upon the temporary condition into which we are cast, but upon our behavior in it, then is it a much more fit subject of chance than we usually allow or apprehend it to be, in what manner the variety of external circumstances which subsist in the human world is distributed among the individuals of the species. ‘‘This life being a state of pro- * The reader will observe that I speak of the revelation of Chris- tianity as distinct from Christianity itself. The dispensation may already be universal. That part of mankind which never heard of Curist’s name, may nevertheless be redeemed; that is, be placed in a better condition, with respect to their future state, by his intervention ; may be the objects of his benignity and intercession, as well as of the propitiatory virtue of his passion. But this is not “natural theology ;” therefore I will not dwell longer upon it.GOODNESS OF TREE Y. J41 bation, it is immaterial,’ says Rousseau, *‘ what kind of trials we experience in it, provided they produce their effects.” Of two agents who stand indifferent to the moral Governor of the universe, one may be exercised by riches, the other by poverty. The treatment of these two shall appear to be very opposite, while in truth it is the same ; for though,-in many respects, there be great disparity be- tween the conditions assigned, in one main article there may be none, namely, in that they are alike trials—have both their duties and temptations, not less arduous or less dan- gerous in one case than the other; so that if the final award follow the character, the original distribution of the circum- stances under which that character. is formed, may be de- fended upon principles not only of justice, but of equality. What hinders, therefore, but that mankind may draw lots for their condition? They take their portion of faculties and opportunities, as any unknown cause or concourse of causes, or as causes acting for other purposes, may happen to set them out; but the event is governed by that which depends upon themselves—the application of what they have received. In dividing the talents, no rule was observed— none was necessary; in rewarding the use of them, that of the most correct justice. The chief difference at last appears to be, that the right use of more talents, that is, of a oreater trust, will be more highly rewarded than the right use of fewer talents, that is, of a less trust. And since, for other purposes, it is expedient that there be an mequality of con- credited talents here, as well probably as an inequality of conditions hereafter, though all remuneratory ; can any rule adapted to that inequality be more agreeable, even to our apprehensions of distributive justice, than this is ? We have said that the appearance of caswalty which attends the occurrences and events of life, not only does not interfere with its uses as a state of probation, but that it promotes these uses. Passive virtues—of all virtues the severest and the most Le ‘i eee ts q Serer eee re ee eee Tee Ter et eee ee eee ee Pe eS fled ee ero es ee re es pape A oe celal SESSLER SRLS RR aES creeee Tee es a Reser CATS a Se Sethe esee Petes ese ee ew at od edhe Lee ee ees CS Se SOPs ee ee eee a te eae aes Bea a Ee ee eee he eee NATURAL THEOLOGY. sublime, and of all, perhaps, the most acceptable to the Deity—would, it is evident, be excluded from a constitution in which happiness and misery regularly followed virtue and vice. Patience and composure under distress, affliction, and pain; a steadfast keeping up of our confidence in God, and of our reliance upon his final goodness, at the time when every thing present is adverse and discouraging, and—what is no less difficult to retain—a cordial desire for the happi- ness of others, even when we are deprived of our own—these dispositions, which constitute perhaps the perfection of our moral nature, would not have found their proper office and object in a state of avowed retribution ; and in which, con- sequently, endurance of evil would be only submission to punishment. Again, one man’s sufferings may be another man’s trial. The family of a sick parent is a school of filial piety. The charities of domestic life, and not only these, but all the social virtues, are called out by distress. But then misery, to be the proper object of mitigation, or of that benevolence which endeavors to relieve, must be really or apparently casual. It is upon such sufferings alone that benevolence can operate. For were there no evilsin the world but what were punishments properly and intelligibly such, benevolence would only stand in the way of justice. Such evils, consist- ently with the administration of moral government, could not be prevented or alleviated; that is to say, could not be remitted in whole or in part, except by the authority which inflicted them, or by an appellate or superior authority. This consideration, which is founded in our most acknow- ledged apprehensions of the nature of penal justice, may pos- sess its weight in the divine counsels. Virtue perhaps is the greatest of all ends. In human beings, relative virtues form a large part of the whole. Now, relative virtue pre- supposes not only the existence of evil, without which it could have no object, no material to work upon, but that evils be apparently, at least, aezsfortwnes ; that is, the effectsGOODNESS OF THE DEITY. 343 of apparent chance. It may be in pursuance, therefore, and in furtherance of the same scheme of probation, that the evils of life are made so to present themselves. I have already observed, that when we let in religious considerations, we often let in light upon the difficulties ot nature. So, in the fact now to be accounted for, the degree of happiness which we usually enjoy in this life may be bet- ter suited to a state of trial and probation than a greater degree would be. The truth is, we are rather too much de- hghted with the world than too little. Imperfect, broken, and precarious as our pleasures are, they are more than sufficient to attach us to the eager pursuit of them. A re- gard to a futwre state can hardly keep its place as it is. If we were designed therefore to be influenced by that regard, might not a more indulgent system, a higher or more unin- terrupted state of gratification, have interfered with the de- sign? At least, it seems expedient that mankind should be susceptible of this influence, when presented to them; that the condition of the world should not be such as to exclude its operation, or even to weaken it more than it does. In a religious view, however we may complain of them in every other, privation, disappointment, and satiety are not without the most salutary tendencies. Peer ere ree tere rae ey fy 8S eS OR a Swe Hh SERS F Pe eS ee ee SPS RST EES eee eS pee eat Peer Pe ee ee23 Fe eee Ct eet i tete ett tr ee ee ee tere eter. eee eee eee heh inal pene he ae ee ees aS NATURAL THEOLOGY. CYA PT ih x VAT. CONCLUSION. Ly all cases wherein the mind feels itself in danger of being confounded by variety, it is sure to rest upon a few strong points, or perhaps upon a single instance. Among a multitude of proofs, it is ove that does the business. If we observe in any argument that hardly two minds fix upon the same instance, the diversity of choice shows the strength of the argument, because it shows the number and competi- tion of the examples. There is no subject in which the tendency to dwell upon select or single topics is so usual, because there is no subject of which, in its full extent, the latitude is so great, as that of natural history applied to the proof of an intelligent Creator. For my part, | take my stand in human anatomy; and the examples of mechanism I should be apt to draw out from the copious catalogue which it supplies, are the pivot upon which the head turns, the ligaments within the socket of the hip-jomt, the pulley or trochlear muscles of the eye, the epiglottis, the bandages which tie down the tendons of the wrist and instep, the sht or perforated muscles at the hands and feet, the knittmg of the intestines to the mesentery, the course of the chyle into the blood, and the constitution of the sexes as extended throughout the whole of the animal creation. To these in- stances the reader’s memory will go back, as they are sever- ally set forth in their places: there is not one of the number which I do not think decisive not one which is not strictly mechanical; nor have I read or heard of any solution of these appearances, which in the smallest degree shakes the conclusion that we build upon them. But of the greatest part of those who, either m this book or any other, read arguments to prove the existence of a God, it will be said, that they leave off only where theyCONCLUSION.» 345 began; that they were never ignorant of this great truth, never doubted of it; that it does not therefore appear what is gained by researches from which no new opinion is learned, and upon the subject of which no proofs were wanted. Now, I answer, that by znvestegation, the followmg points are always gained in favor of doctrines even the most generally acknowledged, supposing them to be true, namely, stability and impression. Occasions will arise to try the firmness of our most habitual opinions, And upon these occasions it is a matter of incalculable use to feel our foundation, to find a support m argument for what we had taken up upon au- thority. In the present case, the arguments upon which the conclusion rests are exactly such as a truth of universal concern ought to rest upon. ‘‘ They are sufficiently open to the views and capacities of the unlearned, at the same time that they acquire new strength and lustre from the dis- coveries of the learned.’ If they had been altogether ab- struse and recondite, they would not have found their way to the understandings of the mass of mankind; if they had been merely popular, they might have wanted solidity. But, secondly, what is gained by research in the stabil- ity of our conclusion, is also gained from it in ¢mpression. Physicians tell us, that there is a great deal of difference between taking a medicine, and the medicine getting into the constitution ; a difference not unlike which, obtains with respect to those great moral propositions which ought to form the directing principles of human conduct. It is one thing to assent to a proposition of this sort; another, and a very different thing, to have properly imbibed its influence I take the case to be this: perhaps almost every man living has a particular train of thought, into which his mind glides and falls, when at leisure from the impressions and ideas that occasionally excite it: perhaps, also, the train of thought here spoken of, more than any other thing, determines the character. It is of the utmost consequence, therefore, that this property of our constitution be well regulated. Now it 1 A Ax 2) ry ‘4 bids ; : : Weteres eyerer ere ert Ptr i tetera eke Y ee ee ee ea ee SE ea al talaStee et eie dt eee eee res ees Le ed eae et et le oro ae ee et ee ee a AS se a Pexvcewss i phHe hse si se serves, 346 NATURAL THEOLOGY. is by frequent or continued meditation upon a subject, by placing a subject in different points of view, by induction of particulars, by variety of examples, by applying principles to the solution of phenomena, by dwelling upon proofs and con- sequences, that mental exercise is drawn into any particular channel. It is by these means, at least, that we have any power over it. The train of spontaneous thought, and the choice of that train, may be directed to different ends, and may appear to be more or less judiciously fixed, according to the purpose in respect of which we consider it; but, im a moral view, I shall not, I believe, be contradicted when I say, that if one train of thinking be more desirable than another, it is that which regards the phenomena of nature with a constant reference to a supreme intelligent Author. To have made this the ruling, the habitual sentiment of our minds, is to have laid the foundation of every thing which is religious. The world thenceforth becomes a temple, and life itself one continued act of adoration. The change is no less than this: that whereas formerly God was seldom in our thoughts, we can now scarcely look upon any thing with- out perceiving its relation to him. Every organized natural body, in the provisions which it contains for its sustentation and propagation, testifies a care, on the part of the Creator, expressly directed to these purposes. We are on all sides surrounded by such bodies: examined in their parts, won- derfully curious; compared with one another, no less won- derfully diversified. So that the mind, as well as the eye, may either expatiate in variety and multitude, or fix itself down to the investigation of particular divisions of the science. And in either case it will rise up from its occupa- tion, possessed by the subject in a very different manner, and with a very different degree of influence, from what a mere assent to any verbal proposition which can be formed concerning the existence of the Deity—at least that merely complying assent with which those about us are satisfied, and with which we are too apt to satisfy ourselves—will orCONCLUSION. 347 can produce upon the thoughts. More especially may this difference be perceived in the degree of admiration and of awe with which the Divinity is regarded, when represented to the understanding by its own remarks, its own reflections, and its own reasonings, compared with what is excited by any language that can be used by others. The works of nature want only to be contemplated. When contemplated, they have every thing in them which can astonish by their greatness; for, of the vast scale of operation through which our discoveries carry us, at one end we see an intelligent Power arranging planetary systems, fixing, for instance, the trajectory of Satwrn, or constructing a ring of two hundred thousand miles diameter, to surround his body, and be sus- pended like a magnificent arch over the heads of his mhabi- tants ; and, at the other, bending a hooked tooth, concerting and providing an appropriate mechanism for the clasping and reclasping of the filaments of the feather of the hum- ming-bird. We have proof, not only of both these works proceeding from an intelligent agent, but of their proceeding from the same agent: for, in the first place, we can trace an identity of plan, a connection of system, from Saturn to our own globe; and when arrived upon our globe, we can, in the second place, pursue the connection through all the organized, especially the animated bodies which it supports. We can observe marks of a common relation, as well to one another as to the elements of which their habitation is com- posed. Therefore one mind has planned, or at least has prescribed a general plan for all these productions. One Being has been concerned in all. Under this stupendous Being we live. Our happiness, our existence, is in his hand. All we expect must come from him. Nor ought we to feel our situation msecure. In every nature, and in every portion of nature which we can descry, we find attention bestowed upon even the minutest parts. The hinges in the wings of an earwig, and the joints of its antenne, are as highly wrought as if the Creator had oe ee ee ee ee eeTes. tee HPSS SFTP Aes wees PEC SSSE Lae ate ee ee Sa i ea Me cat yt ee ea errtetrs ee te 348 NATURAL THEOLOGY. had nothing else to finish. We see no signs of diminution of care by multiplicity of objects, or of distraction of thought by variety. We have no reason to fear, therefore, our being forgotten, or overlooked, or neglected. The existence and character of the Deity is, in every view, the most interesting of all human speculations. In none, however, is it more so, than as it facilitates the belief of the fundamental articles of revelation. It is a step to have it proved, that there must be something in the world more than what we see. It is a further step to know, that among the invisible things of nature, there must be an intelligent mind concerned in its production, order, and sup- port. These points being assured to us by natural theology, we may well leave to revelation the disclosure of many particulars which our researches cannot reach respecting either the nature of this Being as the original cause of all things, or his character and designs as a moral governor ; and not only so, but the more full confirmation of other par- ticulars, of which, though they do not lie altogether beyond our reasonings and our probabilities, the certainty is by no means equal tothe importance. The true theist will be the first to listen to any credible communication of divine know- ledge. Nothing which he has learnt from natural theology will diminish his desire of further instruction, or his disposition to receive it with humility and thankfulness. He wishes for light; he rejoices in light. His inward veneration of this great Being will incline him to attend with the utmost seri- ousness, not only to all that can be discovered concerning him by researches into nature, but to all that is taught by a revelation which gives reasonable proof of having proceeded from him. But, above every other article of revealed religion, does the anterior belief of a Deity bear with the strongest force upon that grand pomt which gives indeed interest and im- portance to all the rest—the resurrection of the human dead. The thing might appear hopeless, did we not see a power atCONCLUSION. 349 work adequate to the effect, a power under the guidance of an intelligent will, and a power penetrating the inmost re- cesses of all substance. I am far from justifying the opinion of those who “ thought it a thing incredible that God should raise the dead;’’ but I admit that it is first necessary to be persuaded that there zs a God to do so. This being thor- oughly settled in our minds, there seems to be nothing in this process—concealed as we confess it to be—which need to shock our belief. They who have taken up the opinion that the acts of the human mind depend upon organization, that the mind itself indeed consists in organization, are supposed to find a greater difficulty than others do in admitting a tran- sition by death to a new state of sentient existence, because the old organization is apparently dissolved. But I do not see that any impracticability need be apprehended even by these ; or that the change, even upon their hypothesis, is far removed from the analogy of some other operations which we know with certainty that the Deity is carrying on. In the ordinary derivation of plants and animals from one an- other, a particle, im many cases minuter than all assignable, all conceivable dimension—an aura, an effluvium, an infin- itesimal—determines the organization of a future body ; does no less than fix whether that which is about to be pro- duced shall be a vegetable, a merely sentient, or a rational being—an oak, a frog, or a philosopher ; makes all these differences ; gives to the future body its qualities, and nature, and species. And this particle, from which springs and by which is determined a whole future nature, itself proceeds from and owes its constitution to a prior body; neverthe- less, which is seen in plants most decisively, the incepted organization, though formed within and through and by a preceding organization, is not corrupted by its corruption, or destroyed by its dissolution ; but, on the contrary, 1s some- times extricated and developed by those very causes—sur- vives and comes into action, when the purpose for which it was prepared requires its use. Now an economy which na- ee eee ee ee ee ee eye eee eee FS eee ee ee Oe Sa Se Poe Sea eee ee ee ee eee ee ee ee ee vee alain at — ee te? eee Se ey ee ee ee eeWiles t ee ee Sere bess wb we oye Sa, Cd ee CT ae SPeyesese yr sseiy ae ge et bt oe oe es a See ee ee ee ee 300 NATURAL THEOLOGY. ture has adopted, when the purpose was to transfer an organ- ization from one individual to another, may have something analogous to it when the purpose is to transmit an organiza- tion from one state of being to another state: and they who found thought m organization may see something in this analogy applicable to their difficulties; for, whatever can transmit a similarity of organization will answer their pur- pose, because, according even to their own theory, it may be the vehicle of consciousness, and because consciousness carries identity and individuality along with it through all changes of form or of visible qualities. In the most general case, that, as we have said, of the derivation of plants and animals from one another, the latent organization is either itself similar to.the old organization, or has the power of communicating to new matter the old organic form. But it is not restricted to this rule. . There are other cases, espe- cially in the progress of insect life, in which the dormant organization does not much resemble that which incloses it, and still less suits with the situation in which the inclosing body is placed, but suits with a diflerent situation to which it is destined. In the larva of the libellula, which lives con- stantly, and has still long to live, under water, are descried the wings of a fly, which two years afterwards is to mount into the air. Is there nothing in this analogy? It serves at least to show, that even in the observable course of nature, organizations are formed one beneath another; and, among a thousand other imstances, it shows completely that the Deity can mould and fashion the parts of material nature so as to fulfil any purpose whatever which he is pleased to appoint. They who refer the operations of mind to a substance totally and essentially different from matter—as most cer- tainly these operations, though affected by material causes, hold very little affinity to any properties of matter with which we are acquainted—adopt perhaps a juster reasoning and a better philosophy; and by these the considerationsCONCLUSION. 30l above suggested are not wanted, at least in the same degree. But to such as find, which some persons do find, an insuper- able difficulty in shaking off an adherence to those analogies which the corporeal world is continually suggesting to their thoughts—to such, I say, every consideration will be a relief which manifests the extent of that intelligent power which is acting in nature, the fruitfulness of its resources, the va- riety and aptness and success of its means ; most especially, every consideration which tends to show that, in the trans- lation of a conscious existence, there is not, even in their own way of regarding it, any thing greatly beyond or totally unlike what takes place in such parts—probably small parts—of the order of nature as are accessible to our obser- vation. Again, if there be those who think that the contracted- ness and debility of the human faculties in our present state seem ill to accord with the high destinies which the expec- tations of religion point out to us; I would only ask them, whether any one who saw a child two hours after its birth, could suppose that it would ever come to understand /lwa- tons ;* or who then shall say, what further amplification of intellectual powers, what accession of knowledge, what ad- vance and improvement, the rational faculty, be its constitu- tion what it will, may not admit of when placed amidst new objects, and endowed with a sensorium adapted, as it un- doubtedly will be, and as our present senses are, to the per- ception of those substances, and of those properties of things, with which our concern may lhe. Upon the whole, in every thing which respects this awful, but, as we trust, glorious change, we have a wise and powerful Being—the author in nature of infinitely vari- ous expedients for infinitely various ends—upon whom to rely for the choice and appomtment of means adequate to the execution of any plan which his goodness or his justice may have formed for the moral and accountable part of his * See Search’s Light of Nature, passim. ec ee eee CETUS eT ee Tet Peet Teh eee ee et ote ele ee eo ee ee eC ee a chest peeeesetccdebudu eee ee re eg eos re ee ee erfolk ta ie ee a 1 tr = ies Se ee ee a eed ae ate Se ee ee eT bia 302 NATURAL THEOLOGY, terrestrial creation. That great office rests with him: be it 07's to hope and to prepare, under a firm and settled per- suasion, that, living and dying, we are his ; that life is passed in his constant presence, and that death resigns us to his < merciful disposal.PT re ee oe HORA PAULINA; OR, spouse getere? THE TRUTH OF THE SCRIPTURE HISTORY OF Sr..PAUL EVINCED, ee ne eee BY A COMPARISON OF THE EPISTLES WHICH BEAR HIS NAME WITH THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES, AND WITH ONE ANOTHER. BY WILLEAM PALEY, § bp. ee ee eee eS ee ee ee ae PUBLISHED £2 72% AMERICAN TRACT SOCCER 150_NASSAU-STREET. NEW YORK:s a .7 LS ey a Bi ¢ reEcL oe Pe arCONTENTS; GH APE Bw. i. PAGE. Exposition of the A EO UIC IN ae seis ee a ere ae ee ee ee o CHA PT: BR. ET: The Epistle to the Romans, ------------ +--+ -+eee+ etree eee tees 15 CHAPTER Lit. The First Epistle to the Corinthians, -----------++++ ++ esse eeeeeee eee 39 CHAPTER: LY. The Second Epistle to the Corinthians, - ----------++++++++++++++++++- 56 CHAPTER. V- The Epistle to the Galatians,- ------++++++-++++ see etre ee errr ee ee eee 84 CHAPTER V1. The Epistle to the Ephesians, - --------++-++-+-+++ +--+ 00ers eet ecee Ele CHAPTER -Vit, The Epistle to the Philippians, -----------+----+-++e+eee+seeeee sees 138 CHAPTER VIII. The Epistle to the Colossians, --------++++++++++e+reer reer e es cess 150 CHAPTER, DX. The First Epistle to the Thessalonians, ----------++++- ++-++++-----> 157 GHAPTER X. The Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, --------------+++-+-+---+---- 166 CHAP TG XE The First Epistle to Timothy, (elo Sasi w lai a Aue. tire a aha ey aie ie pie ace aie Per wha emai 172 CHAPTER XII. The Second Epistle to Timothy, Viste el egies nels gis aw seer e : ae Ce lee ei vgdiase es gb iG ES TFS eso ee FSF eee ee ee eae oe Se ee EE Bae ee ee ng A he Dice SH ESbsaeeSscscivte saw EI Ba ae ae ea al ia td oe ee toe ee ee eeTr eCT REC eS Stee eee ee Pee eS Yok we My o bang a ae ra Hie ret A te fs bat ae & ry fi bi r TR GON TENTS: CHAPTER XII. The Epistle to Titus, CHAPTER XTYV. The Epistle to Philemon, CHAPTER ‘Lhe Subscriptions of the Epistles, CHAPTER AX VI. The Conclusion,HORA PAULINA. CHA PTE AR. 1. EXPOSITION OF THE AKG UW ENCE Tur volume of Christian Scriptures contains thirteen letters purporting to be written by Saint Paul; it contains also a book which, among other things, professes to deliver the history, or rather memoirs of the history of this same person. By assuming the genuineness of the letters, we may prove the substantial truth of the history ; or, by as- suming the truth of the history, we may argue strongly in support of the genuineness of the letters. But I assume neither one nor the other. The reader is at liberty to sup- pose these writings to have been lately discovered in the library of the Escurial, and to come to our hands destitute of any extrinsic or collateral evidence whatever; and the argument I am about to offer is calculated to show, that a comparison of the different writings would, even under these circumstances, afford good reason to believe the persons and transactions to have been real, the letters authentic, and the narration in the main to be true. Agreement or conformity between letters bearing the name of an ancient author, and a received history of that author’s life, does not necessarily establish the credit of either ; because, 1. The history may, like Middleton’s Life of Cicero, or Jortin’s Life of Erasmus, have been wholly, or in part, com- piled from the letters ; in which case it is manifest that the ae a ce ee en Pe Wed pire rg ee oe Pe ee Pet eee eee ee See yee tee State bead seers oe 7 ee ae ee eee ra Sea oe ee ee ee ee eeito Gk ee ees oe ts ee tee ee eS . ei PPG STPeseses ys es gies a og SshePetoosdexkes Fs a Foe dp ce 6 HORA PAULINA. history adds nothing to the evidence already afforded by the - letters : or, 2. The letters may have been fabricated out of the his- tory ; a species of imposture which is certainly practicable, and which, without any accession of proof or authority, would necessarily produce the appearance of consistency and agreement: or, 3. The history and letters may have been founded upon some authority common to both; as upon reports and tradi- tions which prevailed in the age in which they were com- posed, or upon some ancient record now lost, which both writers consulted: in which ease also, the letters, without bemg genuine, may exhibit marks of conformity with the history; and the history, without being true, may agree with the letters. Agreement, therefore, or conformity, is only to be relied upon so far as we can exclude these several suppositions. Now the point to be noticed is, that in the three cases above enumerated, conformity must be the effect of design. Where the history is compiled from the letters, which is the first case, the design and composition of the work are in general so confessed, or made so evident by comparison, as to leave us in no danger of confounding the production with original history, or of mistaking it for an independent au- thority. The agreement, it is probable, will be close and uniform, and will easily be perceived to result from the intention of the author, and from the plan and conduct of his work. Where the letters are fabricated from the history, which is the second case, it is always for the purpose of im- posing a forgery upon the public; and in order to give color and probability to the fraud, names, places, and cirecum- stances, found in the history, may be studiously introduced into the letters, as well as a general consistency be endeay- ored to be maintained. But here it is manifest, that what- ever congruity appears is the consequence of meditation, artifice, and design. The third case is that wherein theEXPOSITION OF THE ARGUMENT. 7 history and the letters, without any direct privity or com- munication with each other, derive their materials from the ‘same source; and, by reason of their common original, fur- nish instances of accordance and correspondency. This is a situation in which we must allow it to be possible for an- cient writings to be placed; and it is a situation in which it is more difficult to distinguish spurious from genuine writ- ings, than in either of the cases described in the preceding suppositions; inasmuch as the congruities observable are so far accidental, as that they are not produced by the imme- diate transplanting of names and circumstances out of one writing into the other. But although, with respect to each other, the agreement in these writings be mediate and sec- ondary, yet is it not properly or absolutely undesigned ; be- cause with respect to the common original from which the information of the writer proceeds, it is studied and facti- tious. The case of which we treat must, as to the letters, be a case of forgery : and when the writer who is personat- ing another sits down to his composition—whether we have the history with which we now compare the letters, or some other record before him, or whether we have only loose tra- dition and reports to go by—he must adapt his imposture, as well as he can, to what he finds in these accounts; and his adaptations will be the result of counsel, scheme, and industry: art must be employed; and vestiges will appear of management and design: Add to this, that, in most of the following examples, the circumstances in which the co- incidence is remarked are of too particular and domestic a nature to have floated down upon the stream of general tradition. Of the three cases which we have stated, the difference between the first and the two others is, that in the first the design may be fair and honest; in the others it must be ac- companied with the consciousness of fraud ;' but in all there is design. In examining, therefore, the agreement bétween ancient writings, the character of truth and originality is SSS sees toes Meyre ree ree ys, oe oe ee se oe oe ee a Poe ee ee ee eRe OTE LS SEI L SS ee eR AS ee ee een ee ee eS Pe oe ed eee eee eeSresT ee TTT Paes ease, a tts Pres ee ie og: Ps SESESESELESEL ELE Sete sd 2 3 sSceer ay a 5 ae nate De ae ee ke ee ne ee e's 8 HOR PAULINE. undesignedness : and this test applies to every supposition ; for whether we suppose the history to be true, but the letters spurious ; or, the letters to be genuine, but the history false; or, lastly, falsehood to belong to both+the history to be a fable, and the letters fictitions—the same inference will re- sult: that either there will be no agreement between them, or the agreement will be the effect of design. Nor will it elude the principle of this rule, to suppose the same person to have been the author of all the letters, or even the author both of the letters and the history ; for no less design is nec- essary to produce coincidence between different parts of a man’s own writings, especially when they are made to take the different forms of a history and of original letters, than to adjust them to the circumstances found in any other writing. With respect to those writings of the New Testament which are to be the subject of our present consideration, I think that, as to the authenticity of the epistles, this argu: ment, where it is sufficiently sustained by instances, is near- ly conclusive ; for I cannot assign a supposition of forgery, in which coincidences of the kind we inquire after are likely to appear. As to the history, it extends to these points: it proves the general reality of the circumstances ; it proves the historian’s knowledge of these circumstances. In the present instance, it confirms his pretensions of having been a contemporary, and in the latter part of his history a com- panion of St. Paul.. In a word, it establishes the substantial truth of the narration ; and swdstantial truth is that which, in every historical inquiry, ought to be the first thing sought after and ascertained: it must be the groundwork of every other observation. The reader then will please to remember this word wn- designedness, as denoting that upon which the construction and validity of our argument chiefly depend. As to the proofs of undesigneduess, I shall in this place say little; for I had rather the reader’s persuasion shouldEXPOSITION OF THE ARGUMENT. 9 arise from the instances themselves, and the separate re- marks with which they may be accompanied, than from any previous formulary or description of argument. In a great plurality of examples, I trust he will be perfectly convinced that no design or contrivance whatever has been exercised ; and if some of the coincidences alleged appear to be minute, circuitous, or oblique, let him reflect that this very indirect- ness and subtilty is that which gives force and propriety to the example. Broad, obvious, and explicit agreements prove little, because it may be suggested that the insertion of such is the ordinary expedient of every forgery ; and though they may occur, and probably will occur in genuine writings, yet it cannot be proved that they are peculiar to these. Thus what St. Paul declares in chapter eleven of first Corinthians, concerning the institution of the Lord’s supper, ‘For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, That the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was be- trayed, took bread ; and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat; this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me;” though it be in close and verbal conformity with the account of the same transaction preserved by St. Luke, is yet a conformity of which no use can be made in our argument; for if it should be objected that this was a mere recital from the gospel, borrowed by the author of the epistle, for the pur- pose of setting off his composition by an appearance of agree- ment with the received account of the Lord’s supper, [ should not know how to repel the insinuation. In like man- ner, the description which St. Paul gives of himself in his epistle to the Philippians, 3:5, “Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a He- brew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning zeal, persecuting the church ; touching the right- ) eousness which is in the law, blameless’”—is made up of particulars so plainly delivered concerning him in the Acts of the Apostles, the epistle to the Romans, and the epistle Hor Paul, 16 cree Pet. Bs Wee B kt Ss esa SEVERE ee See eS Pe RS fae e Peul | 10 HORE PAULINE. se i to the Galatians, that I cannot deny but that it would be easy for an impostor who was fabricating a letter in the ay name of St. Paul, to collect these articles into one view. ) This, therefore, is a conformity which we do not adduce, rr But when I read im the Acts of the Apostles, that when “Paul came to Derbe and Lystra, behold, a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus, the son of a certain woman which was a Jewess ;’ and when, in an epistle addressed to Timothy, I find him reminded of his “ having known the holy Scriptures from a child,” which implies that he must, on one side or both, have been brought up by Jewish par- ents; I conceive that I remark a coincidence which shows, by its very obliguety, that scheme was not employed in its formation. In like manner, if a coincidence depend upon a comparison of dates, or rather of circumstances from which the dates are gathered, the more intricate that comparison shall be, the more numerous the intermediate steps through eT ta ces cei ete eee ees bt Rade ho te A ead: ead et Bd else ePetonedenes fay which the conclusion is deduced, in a word, the more cor- cuitous the investigation is, the better ; because the agree- ment which finally results is thereby further removed from Fee the suspicion of contrivance, affectation, or design. And it should be remembered, concerning these coincidences, that it is one thing to be minute, and another to be precarious ; one thing to be unobserved, and another to be obscure ; one thing to be circuitous or oblique, and another to be forced, dubious, or fanciful. And this distinction ought always to be retained in our thoughts. The very particularity of St. Paul’s epistles ; the perpet: ual recurrence of names of persons and places; the frequent ee eee ra = ak pod ee Pt Ane aah eee ee eee oe met ee oe allusions to the incidents of his private life, and the cireum- stances of his condition and history; and the connection and ee parallelism of these with the same circumstances in the Acts of the Apostles, so as to enable us, for the most part, to con- front them one with another; as well as the relation which aed eee 5 | subsists between the circumstances, as mentioned or referred to in the different epistles, aflord no inconsiderable proof of1] EXPOSITION OF THE ARGUMENT the genuineness of the writings, and the reality of the trans- actions. For as no advertency is sufficient to guard against slips and contradictions, when circumstances are multiplied, and when they are liable to be detected by contemporary accounts equally circumstantial, an impostor, I should ex- pect, would either have avoided particulars entirely, content- ing himself with doctrinal discussions, moral precepts, and general reflections ;* or if, for the sake of imitating St. Paul’s style, he should have thought it necessary to imtersperse his composition with names and circumstances, he would have placed them out of the reach of comparison with the history. And I am confirmed in this opinion by the inspection of two attempts to counterfeit St. Paul’s epistles, which have come down. to us; and the only attempts, of which we have any knowledge, that are at all deserving of regard. One of these is an epistle to the Laodiceans, extant in Latin, and preserv- ed by Fabricius in his collection of apocryphal scriptures. The other purports to be an epistle of St. Paul to the Corin- thians, in answer to an epistle from the Corinthians to him. This was translated by Scroderus from a copy in the Arme- nian language, which had been sent to W. Whiston, and was afterwards, from a more perfect copy procured at Aleppo, published by his sons, as an appendix to their edition of Moses Chorenensis. No Greek copy exists of either; they are not only not supported by ancient testimony, but they * This, however, must not be misunderstood. A person writing to his friends, and upon a subject in which the transactions of his own life were concerned, would probably be led in the course of his letter, especially if it were a long one, to refer to passages found in his his- tory. A person addressing an epistle to the public at large, or under the form of an epistle delivering a discourse upon some speculative argument, would not, it is probable, meet with an occasion of allud- ing to the circumstances of his life at all: he might, or he might not; the chance on either side is nearly equal. This is the situation of the catholic epistles. Although, therefore, the presence of these allusions and agreements be a valuable accession to the arguments by which the authenticity of a letter is maintained, yet the want of them cer- tainly forms no positive objection.TE Pet cece Serie eee eee se SESE SHeveses eh es poy es ea hd aL eee ek a PET es Liebe ip tee So eae et ee ee et eo eR oe ne Sega —s ei ¢ 12 HORA PAULINA. are negatived and excluded, as they have never found ad- mission into any catalogue of apostolical writings acknow- ledged by, or known to the early ages of Christianity. In the first of these I found, as I expected, a total evztation of circumstances. It is simply a collection of sentences from the canonical epistles, strung together with very little skill. The second, which is a more versute and specious forgery, is introduced with a list of names of persons who wrote to St. Paul from Corinth; and is preceded by an account sufh- ciently particular of the manner in which the epistle was sent from Corinth to St. Paul, and the answer returned. But they are names which no one ever heard of; and the account it is impossible to combine with any thing found in the Acts, or in the other epistles. It is not necessary for me to point out the internal marks of spuriousness and impos- ture which these compositions betray; but it was necessary to observe, that they do not afford those coincidences which we propose as proofs of authenticity in the epistles which we defend. Having explained the general scheme and formation of the argument, I may be permitted to subjom a brief account of the manner of conducting it. I have disposed the several instances of agreement under separate numbers; as well to mark more sensibly the divis- ions of the subject, as for another purpose, namely, that the reader may thereby be reminded that the instances are in- dependent of one another. I have advanced nothing which I did not think probable; but the degree of probability by which different instances are supported, is undoubtedly very different. If the reader, therefore, meets with a number which contains an instance that appears to him unsatisfac- tory, or founded in mistake, he will dismiss that» number from the argument, but without prejudice to any other. He will have oceasion also to observe, that the coincidences dis- coverable in some epistles are much fewer and weaker than what are supplied by others. But he will add to his obser-EXPOSITION OF THE ARGUMENT. 13 vation this important circumstance, that whatever ascer- tains the original of one epistle, in some measure establishes the authority of the rest. For, whether these epistles be genuine or spurious, every thing about them indicates that they come from the same hand. The diction, which it is extremely difficult to imitate, preserves its resemblance and peculiarity throughout all the epistles. Numerous expres- sions and singularities of style, found in no other part of the New Testament, are repeated in different epistles; and oc- cur in their respective places, without the smallest appear- ance of force or art. An involved argumentation, frequent obscurities, especially in the order and transition of thought, piety, vehemence, affection, bursts of rapture, ‘and of unpar- alleled sublimity, are properties, all or most of them, dis- cernible in every letter of the collection. But although these epistles bear strong marks of proceeding from the same hand, I think it is still more certain that they were originally separate publications. They form no continued story; they compose no regular correspondence ; they comprise not the transactions of any particular period ; they carry on no con- nection of argument; they depend not upon one another; except in one or two instances, they refer not to one another. I will further undertake to say, that no study or care has been employed to produce or preserve an appearance of con- sistency among them. All which observations show that they were not intended by the person, whoever he was, that wrote them, to come forth or be read together—that they appeared at first separately, and have been collected since. The proper purpose of the following work is to bring together, from the Acts of the Apostles, and from the differ- ent epistles, such passages as furnish examples of undesigned coincidence; but I have so far enlarged upon this plan, as to take into it some circumstances found in the epistles, which contributed strength to the conclusion, though not strictly objects of comparison. It appeared also a part of the same plan to examine the eee ee ee eae ye ee cee ESestcetatieeudenee Liethetartenguieg_eereee sues skied. Se eee ee ee ee ed Pee ee ee ee ee eeLS oe a De eee Soe oe em a ee tee Tere. Tre Terre res a RVeesHSwPeeeorst es eieig TeesNe| ss xe ea ain <= 14 HOR PAULINA. difficulties which presented themselves in the course of our inquiry. I do not know that the subject has been proposed or con- sidered in this view before. Ludovicus Capellus, bishop Pearson, Dr. Benson, and Dr. Lardner, have each given a continued history of St. Paul’s life, made up from the Acts of the Apostles and the epistles joined together. But this, it is manifest, is a different undertaking from the present, and directed to a diflerent purpose. If what is here offered shall add one thread to that com- plication of probabilities by which the Christian history is attested, the reader’s attention will be repaid by the supreme importance of the subject, and my design will be fully an- swered.EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS: CELA Gh be THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. I. Tue first passage I shall produce from this epistle, and upon which a good deal of observation will be founded, is the following : “But now I go unto Jerusalem to minister unto the saints. For it hath pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia to make a certain contribution for the poor saints which are at Jerusalem.” Rom. 15: 25, 26. In this quotation three distinct circumstances are stated : a contribution in Macedonia for the relief of the Christians of Jerusalem, a contribution in Achaia for the same purpose, and an intended journey of St. Paul to Jerusalem. These circumstances are stated as taking place at the same time, and that to be the time when the epistle was written. Now let us inquire whether we can find these circumstances else- where ; and whether, if we do find them, they meet together in respect of date. Turn to the Acts of the Apostles, chap. 20, ver. 2, 3, and you read the following account: ‘‘ When he had gone over those parts,” namely, Macedonia, “and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece, and there abode three months. And when the Jews laid wait for him, as he was about to sail into Syria, he pro- posed to return through Macedonia.” From this passage, compared with the account of St. Paul’s travels given before, and from the sequel of the chapter, it appears that upon St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece, his intention was, when he should leave the country, to proceed from Achaia directly by sea to Syria; but that to avoid the Jews, who were lying in wait to intercept him in his route, he so far changed his purpose as to go back through Macedonia, embark at Philippi, and pursue his voyage from thence tow- ards Jerusalem. Here therefore is a journey to Jerusalem, Seer rere ee eer ete eee? ert Patt fee Cee he Ek Ped M EKER RE Ho Sh hd eR es Pe eree Tyee e ye See ese eee ee et ea a eee eee pa ap oe ee et et eeera #35 By sede nal Z = oe le oo eee Be ee eae 5 dha eds oe bee tee ee noes S25 SSSR esses ese sy ‘a 16 HORA PAULINA. but not a syllable of any contribution. Andas St. Paul had taken several journeys to Jerusalem before, and one also im- mediately after his first visit into the peninsula of Greece, Acts 18:21, it cannot from hence be collected in which of these visits the epistle was written, or with certainty that it was written in either. The silence of the historian who professes to have been with St. Paul at the time, chap. 20, ver. 6, concerning any contribution, might lead us to look out for some different journey, or might induce us perhaps to question the consistency of the two records, did not a very accidental reference in another part of the same history afford us sufficient ground to believe that this silence was omission. When St. Paul made his reply before Felix to the accusations of Tertullus, he alleged, as was natural, that neither the errand which brought him to Jerusalem, nor his conduct while he remained there, merited the calumnies with which the Jews had aspersed him: ‘“ Now after many years,” that is, of absence, “I came to bring alms to my nation, and offerings. Whereupon certain Jews from Asia found me purified in the temple, neither with multitude, nor with tumult; who ought to have been here before thee, and object, if they had aught agaimst me.” Acts 24:17-19. This mention of alms and offerings certainly brings the nar- rative in the Acts nearer to an accordancy with the epistle ; yet no one, I am persuaded, will suspect that this clause was put into St. Paul’s defence, either to supply the omission in the preceding narrative, or with any view to such ac- cordancy. After all, nothing is yet said or hinted concerning the place of the contribution—nothing concerning Macedonia and Achaia, Turn therefore to the first epistle to the Corin- thians, chap. 16, ver. 1-4, and you have St. Paul deliver- ing the following directions: “ Concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him,EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 17 that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, whomsoever you shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your liberality unto Jerusalem. And if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me.” In this passage we find a contribution carrying on at Corinth, the capital of Achaia, for the Christians of Jerusalem; we find also a hint given of the possibility of St. Paul going up to Jerusalem himself, after he had paid his visit into Achaia; but this is spoken of rather as a possibility than as any set- tled intention ; for his first thought was, ‘‘ Whomsoever you shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your liberality unto Jerusalem ;’’ and in the sixth verse he adds, “That ye may bring me on my journey ewhithersoever I go.” This epistle purports to be written after St. Paul had been at Corinth ; for it refers throughout to what he had done and said among them while he was there. The expression, therefore, “when I come,’ must relate to a second visit, against which visit the contribution spoken of was desired to be in readiness. But though the contribution in Achaia be expressly men tioned, nothing is here said concerning any contribution in Macedonia. Turn therefore, in the third place, to the second epistle to the Corinthians, chap. 8, ver. 1-4, and you will discover the particular which remains to be sought for: *‘ Moreover, brethren, we do you to wit of the grace of God bestowed on the churches of Macedonia; how that in a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality. For to their power I bear record, yea, and beyond their power, they were willing of themselves ; praying us with much entreaty, that we would receive the eift, and take upon us the fellowship of the ministering to the saints.”’ To which add, chap. 9, ver. 2, “I know the forwardness of your mind, for which I boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago.” In this epistle we find St. Paul advanced as far as Macedonia, upon that second 16% AER Hi Lah pees Pe ey: ESTER TESS SASSER E Pe ee ee ee ee SB de el tal eh Sed ee ; Pee Par ee oe to ee ey en rt ee rt ee ee ee ee a Se ee ee eee ee er ee, ee ee ee ee ee eeDit teri tetecet se Ire ere ee See ee a. eee eee eee Se eee ee PoePesomemsdewss a ee ee eee ed ee é 18 HORA PAULINA. visit to Corinth which he promised in his former epistle ; we find also, in the passages now quoted frem it, that a contribution was going on in Macedonia at the same time with, or soon however following, the contribution which was made in Achaia; but for whom thé contribution was made does not appear in this epistle at all: that information must be supplied from the first epistle. Here therefore, at length, but fetched from three different writings, we have obtained the several circumstances we inquired after, and which the epistle to the Romans brings together, namely, a contribution in Achaia for the Christians of Jerusalem, a contribution in Macedonia for the same, and an approaching journey of St. Paul to Jerusalem. We have these circumstances—each by some hint in the passage in which it is mentioned, or by the date of the writing in which the passage occurs—fixed to a particular time ; and we have that time turnire out, upon examination, to be m all the same, namely, towards the close of St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece. This is an instance of-conform- ity beyond the possibility, I will venture to say, of random writing to produce; I also assert, that it is in the highest degree improbable that it should have been the eflect of contrivance and design. The imputation of des?g7 amounts to this: that the forger of the epistle to the Romans inserted in it the passage upon which our observations are founded, for the purpose of giving color to his forgery by the appear- ance of conformity with other writings which were then extant. I reply, in the first place, that if he did this to countenance his forgery, he did it for the purpose of an argu- ment which would not strike one reader in ten thousand. Coincidences so circuitous as this answer not the ends of forgery; are seldom, I believe, attempted by it. In the second place, I observe that he must have had the Acts of the Apostles and the two epistles to the Corinthians before him at the time. In the Acts of the Apostles—I mean that part of the Acts which relates to this period—he would haveEPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 19 found the journey to Jerusalem, but nothing about the con- tribution. In the first epistle to the Corinthians, he would have found a contribution going on in Achaia for the Chris- tians of Jerusalem, and a distant hint of the possibility of the journey, but nothing concerning a contribution in Mace- donia. In the second epistle to the Corinthians, he would have found a contribution in Macedonia accompanying that in Achaia, but no intimation for whom either was intended, and not a word about the journey. “It was only by a close and attentive collation of the three writings, that he could have picked out the circumstances which he has united in his epistle, and by a still more nice examination, that he could have determined them to belong to the same period. In the third place, I remark, what diminishes very much the suspicion of fraud, how aptly and connectedly the mention of the circumstances in question, namely, the journey to Jerusalem and the occasion of that journey, arises from the context: ‘‘ Whensoever I take my journey into Spain, I will come to you; for I trust to see you in my journey and to be brought on my way thitherward by you, if first I be somewhat filled with your company. But now I go unto Jerusalem to minister unto the saints. For ut hath pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia to make a certain contri- bution for the poor saints which are at Jerusalem. It hath pleased them verily, and their debtors they are; for if the Gentiles have been made partakers of their spiritual things, their duty is also to minister unto them in carnal things. When therefore I have performed this, and have sealed to them “this fruit, I will come by you into Spain.” Is the passage in 2¢alics like a passage foisted in for an extraneous pats purpose? Does it not arise from what goes before, by a junetion as easy as any example of writing upon real busi- ness can furnish? Could any thing be more natural than that St. Paul, im writing to the Romans, should speak of the time when he hoped to visit them; should mention the business which then detained him; and that he purposed z E rex Peery a ee eT SSR LS Fe ST eae ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee : - Pee ee es ene ee eet ps SSPE ee rer eT eer Toe eee eae ese ee ee rs rey ee os Reet :Tree es SiS epee sae si seeds ae a eS eee od oe ee eee sd eer io at ee eee ee es Fe ae era ee eet ned Ca ee ae 20 HOR#Z PAULINA. to set forward upon his journey to them when that business was completed ? II. By means of the quotation which formed the subject of the preceding number, we collect that the epistle to the Romans was written at the conclusion of St. Paul's second visit to the peninsula of Greece; but this we collect, not from the epistle itself, nor from any thing declared concern- ing the time and place in any part of the epistle, but from a comparison of circumstances referred to in the epistle, with the order of events recorded in the Acts, and with references to the same circumstances, though for quite different pur- poses, in the two epistles to the Cormthians. Now, would the author of a forgery who sought to gain credit to a spuri- ous letter by congruities depending upon the time and place in which the letter was supposed to be written, have left that time and place to be made out in a manner so obscure and indirect as this is? If, therefore, coincidences of cireum- stances can be pointed out in this epistle depending upon its date, or the place where it was written, while that-date and place are only ascertained by other circumstances, such coin- cidences may fairly be stated as wadestgned. Under this head | adduce, Chap. 16: 21-23: “Timotheus my workfellow, and Lu- cius, and Jason, and Sosipater, my kinsmen, salute you. I Tertius, who wrote this epistle, salute you in the Lord. Gaius mine host, and of the whole church, saluteth you; and Quartus, a brother.’”’ With this passage | compare Acts 20:4: “And there accompanied him into Asia, Sopater of Berea; and of the Thessalonians, Aristarchus and Secundus ; and Gaius of Derbe, and Timotheus; and of Asia, Tychicus and Trophimus.”’ The epistle to the Romans, we have seen, was written just before St. Paul’s departure from Greece, after his second visit to that peninsula; the persons mentioned in the quotation from the Acts are those who accompanied him in that departure. Of seven whose names are joined in the salutation of the church of Rome, three,EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. a1 namely, Sosipater, Gaius, and Timothy, are proved by this passage in the Acts to have been with St. Paul at the time. And this is perhaps as much coincidence as could be expect: ed from reality, though less, | am apt to think, than would have been produced by design. Four are mentioned in the Acts who are not joined in the salutation; and it is in the nature of the case probable that there should be many at- tending St. Paul in Greece who knew nothing of the con- verts at Rome, nor were known by them. In hke manner, several are jomed in the salutation who are not mentioned in the passage referred to in the Acts. This also was to be expected. The occasion of mentioning them in the Acts was their proceeding with St. Paul upon his journey. But we may be sure that there were many eminent Christians with St. Paul in Greece, besides those who accompanied him into Asia.* But if any one shall still contend that a forger of the epistle, with the Acts of the Apostles before him, and hav- ing settled this scheme of writing a letter as from St. Paul * Of these, Jason is one, whose presence upon this occasion is very naturally accounted for. Jason was an inhabitant of Thessaloniea, in Macedonia, and entertained St. Paul in his house upon his first visit to that country. Acts 17:7. St. Paul, upon this his second visit, passed through Macedonia, on his way to Greece, and from the situa- tion of Thessalonica, most likely through that city. It appears, from various instances in the Acts, to have been the practice of many con- verts to attend St. Paul from place to place. It is therefore highly probable—I mean, that it is highly consistent with the account in the history—that Jason, according to that account a zealous disciple, the inhabitant of a city at no great distance from Greece, and through which, as it should seem, St. Paul had lately passed, should have ac- companied St. Paul into Greece,and have been with him there at this time. Lucius is another name in the epistle. A very slight altera- tion would convert Aovxio¢g into Aovxac, Lucius into Luke, which would produce an additional coincidence; for if Luke was the author of the history, he was with St. Paul at the time; inasmuch as, describing the voyage which took place soon after the writing of this epistle, the historian uses the first person, ‘‘ We sailed away from Philippi.” Acts 20 : 6. . eo > eee Serer et ss ee Seyret Sees ere eee ee oe g s ake TALON LS eeSSRSP ESS F ee Ye ee ee ye ee oe SR eS Sed hr Oe ee tata kk ce pe tes AG ae ; ; oe ee ee eeSF Ese eo ee eee Se ee ee eee ee eS eS hth ce eee sc Seo tease bees ee Tord HOR PAULINA. upon his second visit into Greece, would easily think of the expedient of putting in the names of those persons who ap- peared to be with St. Paul at the time as an obvious recom- mendation of the imposture, I then repeat my observations, first, that he would have made the catalogue more complete ; and secondly, that with this contrivance in his thoughts, it was certaimly his business, in order to avail himself of the artifice, to have stated in the body of the epistle that Paul was in Greece when he wrote it, and that he was there upon his second visit ; neither of which he has done, either directly, or even so as to be discoverable by any circumstance found in the narrative delivered in the Acts. Under the same head, namely, of coincidences depend- ing upon date, | cite from the epistle, chap. 16 : 3, the fol- lowing salutation : ‘‘ Greet Priscilla and Aquila, my helpers in Christ Jesus; who have for my life laid down their own necks : unto whom not only I give thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles.” It appears from the Acts of the Apostles, that Priscilla and Aquila had originally been in- habitants of Rome; for we read, Acts 18:2, that Paul ‘found a certain Jew, named Aquila, born in Pontus, lately come from Italy, with his wife Priscilla, (because that Claudius had commanded all Jews to depart from Rome.’’) They were connected, therefore, with the place to which the salutations are sent. That is one coincidence; another is the following: St. Paul became acquainted with these persons at Corinth, during his first visit into Greece. They accompanied him upon his return into Asia; were settled for some time at Ephesus, Acts 18 : 19-26; and appear to have been with St. Paul when he wrote from that place his first epistle to the Corimthians,-1 Cor. 16:19; not lone after the writing of which epistle St. Paul went from Eph- esus into Macedonia, and, “after he had gone over those parts,’ proceeded from thence upon his second visit into Greece ; during which visit, or rather at the conclusion of it, the epistle to the Romans, as ‘has been shown, was written.EPISTLE’ TO THE ROMANS. as We have therefore the time of St. Paul’s residence at Eph- esus after he had written to the Corinthians, the time taken up by his progress through Macedonia—which is indefinite, and was probably considerable—and his three months’ abode in Greece ; we have the sum of those three periods allowed for Aquila and Priscilla going back to Rome, so as to be there when the epistle before us was written. Now, what this quotation leads us to observe is, the danger of scatter- ing names and circumstances in writings like the present, how implicated they often are with dates and places, and that nothing but truth can preserve consistency. Had the notes of time in the epistle to the Romans fixed the writing of it to any date prior to St. Paul’s first residence at Cor- inth, the salutation of Aquila and Priscilla would have con- tradicted the history, because it would have been prior to his acquaintance with these persons. If the notes of time had fixed it to any period during that residence at Corinth, during his journey to Jerusalem when he first returned out of Greece, during his stay at Antioch, whither he went down to Jerusalem, or during his second progress through the lesser A'sia, upon which he proceeded from Antioch, an equal contradiction would have been incurred; because, from Acts 18 : 2-18, 19-26, it appears that during all this time Aquila and Priscilla were either along with St. Paul, or were abiding at Ephesus. Lastly, had the notes of time in this epistle, which we have seen to be perfectly incidental, compared with the notes of time in the first epistle to the Corinthians, which are equally incidental, fixed this epistle to be either contemporary with that or prior to it, a similar contradiction would have ensued ; because, first, when ‘the epistle to the Corinthians was written, Aquila and Priscilla were along with St. Paul, as they joined in the salutation of that church, 1 Cor. 16:19; and because, secondly, the history does not allow us to suppose that between the time of their becoming acquainted with St. Paul and the time of St. Paul’s writing to the Corinthians, Aquila and Priscilla r Pee eee Peyyre eS LS oe eee re > eee ee ee ee ee ee? et Poe eee Pee ee Le. aa ee ea eee ee Radiehen omer se SR Se SS SUS Chem Pe 8 S : B re ‘ey. sae ote $2 a - Soe Sa ar ee ee dS elTrt rere ere ee Stee ee trie ee eee er tet ey tte eee oe OE on Ce eee eek es ae ea if 24 HORA PAU NAG. could have gone to Rome, so as to have been saluted in an epistle to that city; and then come back to St. Paul at Hiphesus, so as,to be joined with him in saluting the church of Corinth. As it is, all things are consistent. The epistle to the Romans is posterior even to the second epistle to the Corinthians ; because it speaks of a contribution in Achaia being completed, which the second epistle to the Corinthi- ans, chap. 8, is only soliciting. It is sufficiently, therefore, posterior to the first epistle to the Corinthians to allow time in the interval for Aquila and Priscilla’s return from Ephe- sus to Rome. Before we dismiss these two persons, we may take notice of the terms of commendation in which St. Paul describes them, and of the agreement of that encomium with the’ history. ‘‘My helpers in Christ Jesus; who have for my life laid down their own necks: unto whom not only I give In the eighteenth chapter of the Acts, we are informed that Aquila and Priscilla were Jews; that St. Paul first met with them thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles. at Cormth ; that for some time he abode in the same house with them ; that St. Paul’s contention at Corinth was with the unbelieving Jews, who at first ‘‘ opposed and blasphem- ed,’ and afterwards ‘“‘ with one accord raised an insurrec- tion”’ against him; that Aquila and Priscilla adhered, we may conclude, to St. Paul throughout this whole contest; for, when he left the city, they went with him. Acts 18:18. Under these circumstances, it is highly probable that they should be involved in the dangers and persecutions which St. Paul underwent from the Jews, being themselves Jews; and, by adhering to St. Paul in this dispute, deserters, as they would be accounted, of the Jewish cause. Further, as they, though Jews, were assisting to St. Paul in preaching to the Gentiles at Corinth, they had taken a decided part in the great controversy of that day, the admission of the Gentiles to a parity of religious situation with the Jews. For this conduct alone, if there was no other reason, they mayEPISTIE, TO THE WOMANS. 20 seem to have been entitled to “thanks from the churches of the Gentiles.” They were Jews taking part with Gentiles. Yet is all this so indirectly intimated, or rather so much of it left to inference, in the account given in the Acts, that I do not think it probable that a forger either could or would have drawn his representation from thence; and still less probable do I think it, that without having seen the Acts, he could, by mere accident, and without truth for his cuide, have delivered a representation so conformable to the cir- cumstances there recorded. The two congruities last adduced depended upon the 1. Chap. 16:23: ‘Erastus the chamberlain of the city saluteth you.” Of what city? We have seen, that is, ve have inferred from circumstances found in the epistle, time ; the two following regard the place of the epistle. compared with circumstances found in the Acts of the Apos- tles, and in the two epistles to the Corinthians, that our epistle was written during St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece. Again, as St. Paul, in his epistle to the church of Corinth, 1 Cor. 16:3, speaks of a collection going on in that city, and of his desire that it might be ready against he came thither; and as in this epistle he speaks of that collection being ready, it follows that the epistle was written either while he was at Corinth, or after he had been there. Thirdly, since St. Paul speaks in this epistle of his journey to Jerusalem, as about instantly to take place ; and as we learn, Acts 20:3, that his design and attempt was to sail upon that journey immediately from Greece, properly so called, that is, as distinguished from Macedonia, it is prob- able that he was in this country when he wrote the epistle, in which he speaks of himself as upon the eve of setting out. If in Greece, he was most lkely at Corinth; for the two epistles to the Corinthians show that the principal end of his coming into Greece was to visit that city, where he had founded a church. Certainly we know no place in Greece in which his presence was so probable ; at least, the placing Se ri . eee ey: (gS gi veeese ergs ts es TPE Sse lee a ee ee es ee ee eS Fe ee ee aed eter PSE ee Oye ee Pe ee ee ee eee eae pee pe ee Py oeSiete CT eRe ce Eeeee ee See SS ee SREP EDSP SH SH PeV esses es eS py i hs ees ee eats | de 6 HORH PAULINA. of him at Corinth satisfies every circumstance. Now, that Erastus was an inhabitant of Corinth, or had some connec- tion with Corinth, is rendered a fair subject of presumption, by that which is accidentally said of him in the second epis- tle to Timothy, chap. 4: 20: ‘‘ Erastus abode at Corinth.” St. Paul complains of his solitude, and is telling Timothy what was become of his companions. ‘ Erastus abode at Corinth ; but Trophimus have I left at Miletus sick.” Eras- tus was one of those who had attended St. Paul in his tray- els, Acts 19:22; and when those travels had upon some occasion brought our apostle and his train to Corinth, Eras- tus stayed there, for no reason so probable as that it was his home. I allow that this coimcidence is not so precise as some others, yet I think it too clear to be produced by acci- dent ; for of the many places which this same epistle has assigned to different persons, and the innumerable others which it might have mentioned, how came it to fix upon Corinth for Erastus? And as far as it is a coincidence, it is certainly undesigned on the part of the author of the epistle to the Romans: because he has not told us of what city Kirastus was the chamberlain ; or, which is the same thing, from what city the epistle was written, the setting forth of which was absolutely necessary to the display of the coinci- dence, if any such display had been thought of: nor could the author of the epistle to Timothy leave Erastus at Cor- inth, from any thing he might have read in the epistle to the Romans, because Corinth is nowhere in that epistle men- tioned either by name or description. 2. Chap. 16: 1-3: “I commend unto you Phebe our sister, which is a servant of the church which is at Cen- chrea: that ye receive her in the Lord, as becometh saints, and that ye assist her in whatsoever business she hath need of you; for she hath been a succorer of many, and of my- self also.” Cenchrea adjoined to Corinth; St. Paul, there- fore, at the time of writing the letter, was in the neighbor- hood of the woman whom he thus recommends. But fur-EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 27 ther, that St. Paul had before this been at Cenchrea itself, appears from the eighteenth chapter of the Acts; and ap- pears by a circumstance as incidental and as unlike design as any that can be imagined. “Paul after this tarried there,” namely, at Corinth, ‘“‘yet a good while, and then took his leave of his brethren, and sailed thence into Syria, and with him Priscilla and Aquila, having shorn his head in Cen- chrea: for he had a vow.’ Acts 18:18. The shaving of the head denoted the expiration of the Nazaritic vow. The historian, therefore, by the mention of this circumstance, vir- tually tells us that St. Paul’s vow was expired before he set forward upon his voyage, having deferred probably his de- parture until he should be released from the restrictions under which his vow laid him. Shall we say that the author of the Acts of the Apostles feigned this anecdote of St. Paul at Cenchrea, because he had read in the epistle to the Romans that ‘‘ Phebe, a servant of the church of Cen- chrea, had been a succorer of many, and of him also?” Or shall we say that the author of the epistle to the Romans, out of his own imagination, created Phebe “a servant of the church of Cenchrea,”’ because he read in the Acts of the Apostles that Paul had “shorn his head”’ in that place ? II. Chap. 1:13: “Now I would not have you igno- rant, brethren, that oftentimes I purposed to come unto you, (but was let hitherto,) that I might have some fruit among you also, even as among other Gentiles.” Again, 15: 23-28, ‘‘ But now having no more place in these parts, and having a great desire these many years,”’ 70/2 oftentimes, “‘to come unto you; whensoever I take my journey into Spain I will come to you: for I trust to see you in my journey, and to be brought on my way thitherward by you. But now I go up unto Jerusalem, to minister unto the saints. When, therefore, I have performed this, and have sealed to them this fruit, 1 will come by you into Spain.’ With these passages compare Acts 19:21: ‘ After these ; things were ended,” namely, at Ephesus, ‘ Paul purposed TPT ee ee ee err et Tet ee eee Pees ee er te ae a eee ee Pees ee ee eo res aoa Vad CSRELESESRS SEU TEES SOeRICaROOS Cabgs cists eeecease pera sew asiceveeesarereee a a See ee ee ee eefers SMP SSS EP Vee SpeS eeCee TS re Sy WHSPSE SPSS Seeeseses espa, ee eke ee ae as ee oe et ee ea fae ae te ri 28 HORZ PAULINA. in the spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome.” Let it be observed, that our epistle purports to have been written at the conclusion of St. Paul’s second journey into Greece; that the quotation from the Acts contains words said to have been spoken by St. Paul at Ephesus, some time before he set forward upon that journey. Now I contend that it is impossible that two independent fictions should have attributed to St. Paul the same purpose; especially a purpose so specific and particular as this, which was not merely a general design of visiting Rome after he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, and after he had performed a voyage from those countries to Jerusalem. The conform- ity between the history and the epistle is perfect. In the first quotation from the epistle, we find that a design of vis- iting Rome had long dwelt in the apostle’s mind: im the quotation from the Acts, we find that design expressed a considerable time before the epistle was written. In the history we find that the plan which St. Paul had formed was, to pass through Macedonia and Achaia, after that to go to Jerusalem, and when he had finished his visit there to sail for Rome. When the epistle was written he had executed so much of his plan as to have passed through Macedonia and Achaia, and was preparing to pursue the remainder of it, by speedily setting out towards Jerusalem ; and in this point of his travels he tells his friends at Rome, that when he had completed the business which carned him to Jerusalem, he would come to them. Secondly, I say that the very inspection of the passages will satisfy us that they were not made up from one another. « Whensoever I take my journey into Spain, I will come to you; for I trust to see you in my journey, and to be brought on my way thitherward by’you. But now I go up unto Jerusalem, to minister unto the saints. When, there- fore, I have performed this, and have sealed to them thisEPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. pe fruit, I will come by you into Spain.” This from the epistle. ‘Paul purposed in the spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome.’ This from the Acts. If the passage in the epistle was taken from that in the Acts, why was Spain put in? If the passage im the Acts was taken from that in the epistle, why was Spazn left out? If the two passages were unknown to each other, nothing can account for their conformity but truth. Whether we suppose the history and the epistle to be alike fictitious, or the history to be true but the letter spurious, or the letter to be genuine but the history a fable, the meeting with this circumstance in both, if neither borrowed it from the other, is, upon all these suppositions, equally inexplicable. IV. The following quotation I offer for the purpose of pointing out a geographical coincidence, of so much impor- tance, that Dr. Lardner considered it as a confirmation of the whole history of St. Paul’s travels: Chap. 15:19: “So that from Jerusalem, and round about unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the gospel of Christ.” I do not think that these words necessarily import that St. Paul had penetrated into IHyricum, or preached the gos- pel in that province; but rather that he had come to the confines of [lyricum, (uéypx rod Avpixod,) and that these con- fines were the external boundary of his travels. St. Paul considers Jerusalem as the centre, and is here viewing the circumference to which his travels extended. The form of expression in the original conveys this idea: d7d ‘Iepovcadqu kal kbcdy péxpe tod IAAvpuxod. Lllyricum was the part of this circle which he mentions in an epistle to the Romans, be- cause it lay in a direction from Jerusalem towards that city, and pointed out to the Roman readers the nearest place to them to which his travels from Jerusalem had brought him. yp ey pepenSaeeseiets! Fi S$Sy leeedsaeigerenet eee ee ee eee ee eS eae ewe ee ee ee ee ee el eS ene ee eee ee a ee ee ee eee eee Te a edER, pMatdesnibine eens ree a a : Citi pitt ee eis [sete bet tated i ee erties Seabee geese ee eee OP eS eS eee Ce ie ee eee tee ee Ee ee ees eee eae | See Sees ae 30 HORM PAULINE. The name of Illyricum nowhere occurs in the Acts of the Apostles ; no suspicion, therefore, can be received, that the mention of it was borrowed from thence. Yet I think it appears from these same Acts, that St. Paul, before the time when he wrote his epistle to the Romans, had reached the confines of Illyricum ; or, however, that he might have done so, in perfect consistency with the account there deliv- ered. Illyricum adjoins upon Macedonia ; measuring from Jerusalem towards Rome, it lies close behind it. If, there- fore, St. Paul traversed the whole country of Macedonia, the route would necessarily bring him to the confines of Ilym- eum, and these confines would be described as the extremity of his journey. Now the account of St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece is contained in these words : “ He departed for to go into Macedonia. And when he had gone over those parts, and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece.”? Acts 20:2. This account allows, or rather leads us to suppose, that St. Paul, in going over Mac- edonia (dueAdor ra yépy éxetva,) had passed so far to the west as to come into those parts of the country which were con- ticuous to Illyricum, if he did not enter into Illyricum itself. The history, therefore, and the epistles so far agree, and the agreement is much strengthened by a coincidence of teme. At the time the epistle was written, St. Paul might say, in conformity with the history, that he had “come into Ilyri- cum :” much before that time, he could not have said so ; for, upon his former journey to Macedonia, his route is laid down from the time of his landing at Philippi to his sailing from Corinth. We trace him from Philippi to Amphipolis and Apollonia ; from thence to Thessalonica ; from Thessa- lonica to Berea; from Berea to Athens; and from Athens to Corinth: which track confines him to the eastern side of the peninsula, and therefore keeps him all the while at a considerable distance from Illyricum. Upon his second visit to Macedonia, the history, we have seen, leaves him at hb- erty. It must have been, therefore, upon that second visit,EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. ou if at all, that he approached Illyricum; and this visit, we know, almost immediately preceded the writing of the epis- tle. It was natural that the apostle should refer to a jour- ney which was fresh in his thoughts. VY. Chap. 15:30: ‘Now I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ’s sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me, that I may be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea.” With this compare Acts 20 : 22, 23: ‘““And now, behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jeru- salem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there, save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying, that bonds and afflictions abide me.”’ Let it be remarked, that it is the same journey to Jeru- salem which is spoken of in these two passages ; that the epistle was written immediately before St. Paul set forward upon this journey from Achaia; that the words in the Acts were uttered by him when he had proceeded in that journey as far as Miletus, in Lesser Asia. This being remembered, I observe that the two passages, without any resemblance between them that could induce us to suspect that they were borrowed from one another, represent the state of St. Paul’s mind, with respect to the event of the journey, in terms of substantial agreement. They both express his sense of dan- ger in the approaching visit to Jerusalem ; they both express the doubt which dwelt upon his thoughts concerning what might there befall him. When, in his epistle, he entreats the Roman Christians, ‘for the Lord Jesus Christ’s sake, and for the love of the Spirit,” to strive together with him in their prayers to God for him, that he might ‘“ be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea,” he sufficiently confesses his fears. In the Acts of the Apostles, we see in him the same apprehensions, and the same uncertainty : “I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there.” The only difference is, that in the history his thouchts are more inclined to despond- eee Pee re ee Ne re ree eet ot Toe. et 2 Ee ee ae par a Net ae gt ae Ee eS EN TR BS a Perret ye Oe ee dd da ake ate aatiTeste ee oaeee Tere eee ee he Ste Pevecsset eee ee ee ee ee Se Saeed ek a ee ee ee ee 32 HOR 4 PAULINA. ency than in the epistle. In the epistle, he retains his hope “that he should come unto them with joy by the will of God: in the history, his mind yields to the reflection, ‘that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city that bonds and PP) afHictions awaited him.” Now, that his fears should be greater, and his hopes less, in this stage of his journey than when he wrote his epistle, that is, when he first set out upon it, is no other alteration than might well be expected ; since those prophetic intimations to which he refers, when he says, “the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city,’ had probably been received by him in the course of his journey, and were probably similar to what we know he received in the re- maining part of it at Tyre, chap. 21:4; and afterwards from Agabus at Cesarea. Chap. 21: 11. VI. There is another strong remark arising from the same passage in the epistle ; to make which understood, it will be necessary to state the passage over again, and somewhat more at length: “T beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Chmist’s sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me, that I may be de- livered from them that do not believe in Judea that I may come unto you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed.”’ I desire the reader to call to mind that part of St. Paul’s history which took place after his arrival at Jerusalem, and which employs the last seven chapters of the Acts; and I build upon it this observation—that supposing the epistle to the Romans to have been a forgery, and the author of the forgery to have had the Acts of the Apostles before him, and to have there seen that St. Paul, in fact, was ot delivered from the unbelieving Jews, but on the contrary, that he was taken into custody at Jerusalem, and brought to Rome a prisoner—it is next to impossible that he should have made St. Paul express expectations so contrary to what he saw had been the event; and utter prayers, with apparent hopes ofEPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 33 IO success, which he must have known were frustrated in the issue. This single consideration convinces me, that no concert or confederacy whatever subsisted between the epistle and the Acts of the Apostles; and that whatever coincidences have been or can be pointed out between them are unso- phisticated, and are the result of truth and reality. It also convinces me that the epistle was written not only in St. Paul’s lifetime, but before he arrived at Jerusa- lem; for the important events relating to him which took place after his arrival at that city, must have been known to the Christian community soon after they happened : they form the most public part of his history. But had they been known to the author of the epistle—in other words, had they then taken place, the passage which we have quoted from the epistle would not have been found there. VII. I now proceed to state the conformity which exists between the argument of this epistle and the history of its reputed author. It is enough for this purpose to observe, that the object of the epistle, that is, of the argumentative part of it, was to place the Gentile convert upon a parity of situation with the Jewish, in respect of his religious condi- tion, and his rank in the divine favor. The epistle supports this point by a variety of arguments; such as, that no man of either description was justified by the works of the law— for this plam reason, that no man had performed them ; that it became therefore necessary to appoint another me- dium or condition of justification, in which new medium the Jewish peculiarity was merged and lost; that Abraham’s own justification was anterior to the law, and independent of it; that the Jewish converts were to consider the law as now dead, and themselves as married to another ; that what the law in truth could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God had done by sending his Son; that God had rejected the unbelieving Jews, and had substituted in their place a society of believers in Christ, collected indifferently Hore Paul. 17 seeenSeeese? : SFOs RBH SH es Ze se get SS heeenesneee ee a ee ee oe ee aed Me iw : hae ee ey Lee | Se a i 7 ey Phe es 72 es See eee er ee ee eee eee eee oer * ee ee eT eeete ae ed Pag De mek ae Re at leet ol eee as ed eee et ied Pee ed Sa ane Eee aed Ee ee ee ee at eo $s HOR# PAULINE. ez from Jews and Gentiles. Soon after the writing of this epistle, St. Paul, agreeably to the intention intimated in the epistle itself, took his journey to Jerusalem. The day after he arrived there, he was introduced to the church. What passed at this interview is thus related, Acts 21: 19-21: «When he had saluted them, he declared particularly what things God had wrought among the Gentiles by his munis- try. And when they heard it, they glorified the Lord, and said unto him, Thou seest, brother, how many thousands of Jews there are which believe; and they are all zealous of the law: and they are informed of thee, that thou teachest all the Jews which are among the Gentiles to forsake Moses, saying, that they ought not to circumcise their children, neither to walk after the customs.’ St. Paul disclaimed the charge; but there must have been something to have led to it. Now it is only to suppose that St. Paul openly professed the principles which the epistle contains; that, in the course of his ministry, he had uttered the sentiments which he is here made to write, and the matter is ac- counted for. Concerning the accusation which public rumor had brought against him to Jerusalem, I will not say that it was just; but I will say, that if he was the author of the epistle before us, and if his preaching was consistent with his writing D? necessary, surely it is an easy inference, that if the Gentile it was extremely natural ; for though it be not a convert who did not observe the law of Moses, held as ad- vantageous a situation in his religious interests as the Jewish convert who did, there could be no strong reason for obsery- ing that law at all. The remonstrance therefore of the church of Jerusalem, and the report which occasioned it, were founded in no very violent misconstruction of the apos- tle’s doctrine.» His reception at Jerusalem was exactly what I should have expected the author of this epistle to have met with. Iam entitled therefore to argue, that a separate narrative or eflects experienced by St. Paul, similar to what a person might be expected to experience who held the doc-EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 30 trines advanced in this epistle, forms a proof that he did hold these doctrines ; and that the epistle bearing his name, in which such doctrines are laid down, actually proceeded from him. VII. This number is supplemental to the former. I propose to point out in it two particulars in the conduct of the argument, perfectly. adapted to the historical circum- stances under which the epistle was written ; which yet are free from all appearance of contrivance, and which it would not, I think, have entered into the mind of a sophist to con- trive. 1. The epistle to the Galatians relates to the same general question as the epistle to the Romans. St. Paul had founded the church of Galatia: at Rome he had never been. Observe now a difference in his manner of treating of the same subject, corresponding with this difference in his situation. In the epistle to the Galatians, he puts the pot in a great measure upon authority: ‘I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ unto another gospel.’”’ Gal. 1:6. ‘I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached of me is not after man. For I neither received it of man, neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.” Chap. 1:11, 12. ‘1 am afraid of yon, lest. I. have. he- stowed upon you labor in vain.” 4:11. “I desire to be present with you now, .. . . for I stand in doubt of you.” 4:20. ‘Behold, 1 Paul say unto you, that if ye be cir- cumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing.” 5:2, “This persuasion cometh not of him that calleth you.’ 5: 8, This is the style in which he accosts the Galatians. In the epistle to the converts of Rome, where his authority was not established, nor his person known, he puts the same points entirely upon argument. The perusal of the epistle will prove this to the satisfaction of every reader; and as the observation relates to the whole contents of the epistle, I forbear adducing separate extracts. I repeat, therefore, F 22% : a Seu) res eee ererrie sere key Py Tee ss aS SSeS ISR SS SES ERS ee ee a pe a ee eee ed a ee ee ee eee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee. Taecepeee es Se Terre eee eee bs ak ha et rk eee ee Pt ee dé 36 HORA PAULINA. that we have pointed out a distinction in the two epistles, suited to the relation in which the author stood to his differ- ent correspondents. Another adaptation, and somewhat of the same kind, is the following : 3 2. The Jews, we know, were very numerous at Rome, and probably formed a principal part among the new con- verts; so much so, that the Christians seem to have been known at Rome rather as a denomination of Jews than as any thing else. In an epistle consequently to the Roman believers, the point to be endeavored after by St. Paul, was to reconcile the Jewzsh converts to the opinion that the Gen- tiles were admitted by God to a parity of religious situation with themselves, and that without their being bound by the law of Moses. The Gentile converts would probably accede to this opinion very readily. In this epistle, therefore, though directed to the Roman church in general, it is in truth a Jew writing to Jews. Accordingly you will take notice, that as often as his argument leads him to say any thing deroga- tory from the Jewish institution, he constantly follows it by € a softening clause. Having, chap 2:28, 29, pronounced, not much perhaps to the satisfaction of the native Jews, that ‘he is not a Jew which is one outwardly ; neither is that circumcision, which 1s outward in the flesh; he adds immediately, ‘‘ What advantage then hath the Jew, or what profit is there of circumcision? © Much every way.” Hav- ing in the third chapter, ver. 28, brought his argument to this formal conclusion, ‘“ that a man is justified by faith with- out the deeds of the law,” he presently subjoins, verse 31, “Do we then make void the law through faith? God for. bid. Yea, we establish the law.’ In the seventh chapter, when in the sixth verse he had advanced the bold assertion, that “‘now we are delivered from the law, that being dead wherein we were held;” in the very next verse he comes in with this healing question, ‘What shall we say then? Is the law sm? God forbid. Nay, I had not known sin,EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. a but by the law.”” Having in the following words insinuated, or rather more than insinuated, the inefficacy of the Jewish law, 8:3, “For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin: in the flesh ;” after a digression indeed, but that sort of a digres- sion which he could never resist, a rapturous contemplation of his Christian hope, and which occupies the latter part of this chapter ; we find him in the next, as if sensible that he had said something which would give offence, returning to his Jewish brethren in terms of the warmest affection and respect: ‘I say the truth in Christ Jesus, I lie not, my con- science also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh: who are Is- raelttes ; to whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the ser- vice of God, and the promises ; whose are the. fathers, and of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came.” When, in the thirty-first and thirty-second verses of this ninth chapter, he represented to the Jews the error of even the best of their nation, by telling them that “Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, had not. attained to the law of righteousness, . . . because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law; for they stumbled at that stumbline-stone,” he takes care to annex to this decla- ration these conciliating expressions : ‘Brethren, my heart’s desire and prayer to God ‘for Israel is, that they might be saved. For I bear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge.” Lastly, having, chap. 10:20, 21, by the application of a passage in Isaiah, insinuated the most ungrateful of all propositions to a Jew- ish ear, the rejection of the Jewish nation as God’s peculiar people ; he hastens, as it were, to qualify the intelligence of their fall by this interesting expostulation: “I say, then, RS Shadi SheSS ESSERE SS ee oe ee ee ee ee ere a ae | Se Spy Pete ese ese pte ery eee erent ee ee ee eerer tt SRV ees SFi epee new sess wees sesE Ct es at . tb iy ie 4 Cm Ci Ba ania etapa ee a eee Le ees Bee ee PAHS aes H Fs Sevesssrsesgiy 38 HORA PAULINA. hath God cast away his people,” that is, wholly and entire- ly? “God forbid. For I also am an Israelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamm. God hath not cast away his people which he foreknew ;’ and follows this thought, throughout the whole of the eleventh chapter, in a series of reflections calculated to soothe the Jewish converts, as well as to procure from their Gentile brethren respect to the Jewish institution. Now all this is perfectly natural. In a real St. Paul writing to real converts, it is what anxi- ety to bring them over to his persuasion would naturally produce ; but there is an earnestness and a personality, if I may so call it, in the manner, which a cold forgery, I appre- hend, would neither have conceived nor supported.FIRST. EPISTLE OQ THE GeRINTHIANS. 39 CEA LE Re hbk THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. I]. Brrore we proceed to compare this epistle with the history, or with any other epistle, we will employ one num- ber in stating certain remarks applicable to our argument, which arise from a perusal of the epistle itself. By an expression in the first verse of the seventh chap- ter, “Now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me,’ it appears that this letter to the Corinthians was writ- ten by St. Paul in answer to one which he had received from them; and that the seventh, and some of the follow- ing chapters, are taken up in resolving certain doubts, and regulating certain points of order, concerning which the Co- rinthians had in their letter consulted him. This alone is a circumstance considerably in favor of the authenticity of the epistle ; for it must have been a far-fetched contrivance in a forgery, first to have feigned the receipt of a letter from the church of Corimth, which letter does not appear, and then to have drawn up a fictitious answer to it, relative to a great variety of doubts and inquiries, purely economical and domestic ; and which, though likely enough to have occurred to an infant society, in a situation, and under an institution so novel as that of a Christian church then was, it must have very much exercised the author’s invention, and could have answered no imaginable purpose of forgery, to introduce the meution of at all. Particulars of the kind we refer to are such as the followmg: the rule of duty and prudence relative to entering into marriage, as applicable to virgins, to widows; the case of husbands married to uncon- verted wives, of wives having unconverted husbands; that case where the unconverted party chooses to separate, where ° he chooses to continue the union; the eflect which their couversion produced upon their prior state, of circumcision, of slavery ; the eating of things offered to idols, as it was in a a a ae Pe Se eee ee eee Pe ee ed eee ee ee ee et40 HORE PAULINE. relies itself, as others were aflected by it; the joining in idolatrous bicee 4 sacrifices; the decorum to be observed in their religious as- semblies, the order of speaking, the silence of women; the covering or uncovering of the head, as it became men, as it { became women. These subjects, with their several subdi- 1 iid ) pee eta , visions, are so particular, minute, and numerous, that though they be exactly agreeable to the circumstances of the per- Cl Serer eo rere ee Stee eee ee SS er sons to whom the letter was written, nothing, I believe, but wee eget the existence and reality of those circumstances could have suggested to the writer's thoughts. But this is not the only nor the principal observation, upon the correspondence between the church of Corinth and their apostle, which I wish to point out. It appears, I think, in this correspondence, that although the Corinthians had written to St. Paul, requesting his answer and his directions Ct Se ee eee et ee eee in the several points above enumerated, yet that they had not said one syllable about the enormities and disorders ee et which had crept in among them, and in the blame of which they all shared; but that St Paul’s formation concerning od the irregularities then prevailing at Corimth had come round Be to him from other quarters. The quarrels and disputes ex- cited by their contentious adherence to their different teach- wk ee aoe ers, and by their placing of them in competition with one another, were not mentioned in their /etter, but communi- cated to St. Paul by more private intelligence: “It hath been declared unto me of you, my brethren, by them which are of the house of Chloe, that there are contentions among ee oe ee a eS you. Now this | say, that every one of you saith, I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Chnst.” 1:11,12. The incestuous marriage ‘of a man with his a re alr 99 father’s wife,’ which St. Paul reprehends with so much severity in the fifth chapter of our epistle, and which was not the crime of an individual only, but a crime in which the whole church, by tolerating and conniving at it, had rendered themselves partakers, did not come to St. Paul's knowledge by the dettev, but by a rumor which had reachedFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 41 his ears: “ It is reported commonly that there is fornication among you, and such fornication as is not so much as named among the Gentiles, that one should have his father’s wife. And ye are pufled up, and have not rather mourned, that he that hath done this deed might be taken away from among you.’ 5:1,2. Their going to law before the judica- ture of the country, rather than arbitrate and adjust their disputes among themselves, which St. Paul animadverts upon with his usual plainness, was not intimated to him in the detter, because he tells them his opinion of this conduct before he comes to the contents of the letter. Their htig- lousness is censured by St. Paul in the sixth chapter of his epistle, and it is only at the beginning of the seventh chap- ter that he proceeds upon the articles which he found in their letter; and he proceeds upon them with this preface : “Now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me;”’ 7:1, which introduction he would not have used if he had been already discussing any of the subjects concerning which they had wnitten. Their irregularities in celebrating the Lord’s supper, and the utter perversion of the institution which ensued, were not in the letter, as is evident from the terms in which St. Paul mentions the notice he had received of it: “Now in this that I declare unto you, I praise you not, that ye come together not for the better, but for the worse. Tor first of all, when ye come together in the church, JL hear that there be divisions among you; and L partly be- lieve wt.” Now that the Corinthians should, in their own letter, exhibit the fair side of their conduct to the apostle, and conceal from him the faults of their behavior, was ex- tremely natural, and extremely probable; but it was a dis- tinction which would not, I think, have easily occurred to the author of a forgery ; and much less likely is it, that it should have entered into his thoughts to make the distine- tion appear in the way in which it does appear, namely, not by the original letter, not by any express observation upon it in the answer, but distantly by marks perceivable in 1/* getee eer tet ss re Lee te ee ee ee ee ae ied ea eee CET TS ee wR htm ks pow ddiees lees Sees Sees ekesosue : e Te eee SF Se et ey es Pe a en ee ee ee ee ee ee ee Te ea eee ee eeSEREVS SASS TSPS PSE ES eeeyr Ss ee ty tit ath teke eestor ten see ed ed aes Peer et eee cs oe ME doc tee OS 42 HORH PAULINA. the manner, or in the order in which St. Paul takes notice of their faults. II. Our epistle purports to have been written after Dt. Paul had already been at Corinth: “JT brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wis- dom,” 2:1; and in many other places to the same effect. It purports also to have been written upon the eve of an- other visit to that church: ‘1 will come to you shortly, if the Lord will,” 4:19; and again, ‘I will come unto you, when I shall pass through Macedonia.” 16:5. Now the history relates that St. Paul did in fact visit Corinth twice ; once as recorded at length in the eighteenth, and a second time-as mentioned briefly in the twentieth chapter of the Acts. The same history also informs us, Acts 20:1, that it was from Ephesus St. Paul proceeded upon his second journey into Greece. Therefore, as the epistle purports to have been written a short time preceding that journey ; and as St. Paul, the history tells us, had resided more than two years at Ephesus before he set out upon it, it follows that it must have been from Ephesus, to be consistent with the history, that the epistle was written; and every note of place in the epistle agrees with this supposition. “ If, after the manner of men, I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not?” 15:32. I allow that the apostle might say this, wherever he was ; but it was more natural and more to the purpose to say it, if he was at Ephesus at the time, and in the midst of those conflicts to which the expression relates. ‘The churches of Asia salute you.” 16:19. Asia, throughout the Acts of the Apostles, and the epistles of St. Paul, does not mean the whole of Asia Minor or Anatolia, nor even the whole of the proconsular Asia, but a district in the anterior part of that country, called Lydian Asia, divided from the rest much as Portugal is from Spain, and of which district Ephesus was the capital. ‘Aquila and Priscilla salute you.” 16:19. Aquila and Priscilla were at Ephesus during the periodFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 43 withm which this epistle was written. Acts 18: Loy 26: “T will tarry at Ephesus until Pentecost.” 16:8. This, I apprehend, is in terms almost asserting that he was at Eph- esus at the time of writing the epistle. “A great and effect- ual door is opened unto me.” 16:9. How well this decla- ration corresponded with the state of things at Ephesus, and the progress of the gospel in these parts, we learn from the reflection with which the historian concludes the ac- count of certam transactions which passed there: “So mightily grew the word of God and prevailed,” Acts 19, 20, as well as from the complaint of Demetrius, ‘‘ that not alone at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul hath persuaded and turned away much people.” 19:26. “And there are many adversaries,” says the epistle, 16:9. Look into the history of this period: ‘When divers were hard- ened, and believed not, but spake evil of that way before the multitude, he departed from them and separated the disciples.” The conformity, therefore, upon this head of comparison is circumstantial and perfect. If any one think that this is a conformity so obvious, that any forger of toler- able caution and sagacity would have taken care to preserve it, I must desire such a one to read the epistle for himself; ‘and when he has done so, to declare whether he has dis- covered one mark of art or design; whether the notes of tume and place appear to him to be inserted with any refer- ence to each other, with any view of their being compared with each other, or for the purpose of establishing a visible agreement with the history, in respect of them. III. Chap. 4:17-19: “ For this cause I have sent unto you Timotheus, who is my beloved son and faithful in the Lord, who shall bring you into remembrance of my ways which be in Christ, as | teach everywhere in every church. Now some are puffed up, as though I would not come to you. But I will come to you shortly, if the Lord will.” With this I compare Acts 19:21, 22: ‘After these things were ended, Paul purposed in the spirit, when he had PSS ek wse RST EPI Se eet ee? Pee Pe ee ee ae ee ee er EL pewaken end wek FESR SS SIS SSR Pe BACT CORRES HSS FS FERGUS Py ee Sy eat ya : c a E ee ee ee ee ee ee ee Se ee ee et ee ee eePS et ee ee eS ee PYSeeeessetesesy eee ees ted eS 2 eS oe ess od eS et ee ee ee ed 44 HORA PAULIN ZA. passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem ; saying, After I have been there, 1 must also see Rome. So he sent into Macedonia two of them that ministered unto him, Timotheus and Erastus.” __ Though it be not said, it appears I think with sufficient certainty, I mean from the history independently of the epistle, that Timothy was sent upon this occasion into Achaia, of which Corinth was the capital city, as well as into Macedonia; for the sending of Timothy and Erastus is, in the passage where it is mentioned, plainly connected with St. Paul’s own journey: he sent them before him. As he therefore purposed to go into Achaza himself, it is highly probable that they were to go thither also. Nevertheless, they are said only to have been sent into Macedonia, be- cause Macedonia was in truth the country to which they went immediately from Ephesus; being directed, as we sup- pose, to proceed afterwards from thence into Achaia. If this be so, the narrative agrees with the epistle; and the agreement is attended with very little appearance of design. One thing at least concerning it is certain; that if this pas- sage of St. Paul’s history had been taken from his letter, it would have sent Timothy to Corinth by name, or expressly however into Achaia. But there is another circumstance in these two passages much less obvious, in which an agreement holds without any room for suspicion that it was produced by design. We have observed that the sending of Timothy into the penin- sula of Greece was connected in the narrative with St. Paul’s own journey thither; it 1s stated as the effect of the same resolution. Paul purposed to go mto Macedonia ; “ so he sent into Macedonia two of them that ministered unto him, Timotheus and Erastus.” Now in the epistle also you remark, that when the apostle mentions his having sent Timothy unto them, in the very next sentence he speaks of his own visit: ‘‘ For this cause have I sent unto you Timo- theus, who is my beloved son,” ete. ‘‘ Now some are pufledFIRST EPISTER 26 THE CORINTHIANS. 45 up, as though I would not come to you. But I will come unto you shortly, if the Lord will.” Timothy’s journey, we see, 18 mentioned in the history and ‘in the epistle, in close connection with St. Paul’s own. Here is the same order of thought and intention ; yet conveyed under such diversity of circumstance and expression, and the mention of them in the epistle so allied to the occasion which introduces it, namely, the insinuation of his adversaries that he would come to Corinth no more, that I am persuaded no attentive reader will believe that these passages were written in con- cert with one another, or will doubt but that the agreement is unsought and uncontrived. But, in the Acts, Erastus accompanied Timothy in this journey, of whom no mention is made in the epistle. From what has been said in our observations upon the epistle to the Romans, it appears probable that Erastus was a Co- rinthian. If so, though he accompanied Timothy to Corinth, he was only returning home, and Timothy was the messen- ger charged with St. Paul’s orders. At any rate, this dis- crepancy shows that the passages were not taken from one another. IV. Chap. 16: 10, 11: ‘‘ Now if Timotheus come, see that he may be with you without fear; for he worketh the work of the Lord, as I also do. Let no man therefore de- spise him: but conduct him forth in peace, that he may come unto me; for I look for him with the brethren.”’ From the passage considered in the preceding number, it appears that Timothy was sent to Corinth, either with the epistle, or before it: ‘‘ For this cause have I sent unto you Timotheus.” From the passage now quoted, we infer that Timothy was not sent 22th the epistle ; for had he been the bearer of the letter, or accompanied it, would St. Paul in that letter have said, ‘Jf Timothy come?’ Nor is the sequel consistent with the supposition of his carrying the letter ; for if Timothy were with the apostle when he wrote the letter, could he say, as he does, ‘‘ I look for him with the 8 : e eae re Pe ee ee es ST eee es we ee ee ee ee asaee tS eT oe ee ee ee Lorn binwn tek Opes eoeeseseeoRue Pee ee eA pee pe ee eae ae ee ee ee esCn te See cee elses Seer ee eS Se Fe Pevseg pi Seseeesesesesgiy Ce ed ae ee Ree oe eo et ee ok te et eee ees 46 HORA PAULINA. brethren?” I conclude, therefore, that Timothy had left St. Paul to proceed upon his journey before the letter was written. Further, the passage before us seems to imply that Timothy was not expected by St. Paul to arrive at Corinth till after they had received the letter. He gives them direc- tions in the letter how to treat him when he should arrive : ? “Tf he come,” act towards him so andso. Lastly, the whole form of expression is most naturally applicable to the sup- position of Timothy’s coming to Corinth, not directly from St. Paul, but from some other quarter ; and that his instruc- tions had been, when he should reach Corinth, to return. Now, how stands this matter in the history? Turn to the nineteeth chapter and twenty-first verse of the Acts, and you will find that Timothy did not, when sent from Ephe- sus, where he left St. Paul and where the present epistle was written, proceed by a straight course to Corinth, but that he went round through Macedonia. This clears up every thing; for, although Timothy was sent forth upon his journey before the letter was written, yet he might not reach Corinth till after the letter arrived there; and he would come to Corinth, when he did come, not directly from St. Paul at Ephesus, but from some part of Macedonia. Here, therefore, is a circumstantial and critical agreement, and unquestionably without design; for neither of the two pas- sages in the epistle mentions Timothy’s journey into Mace- donia at all, though nothing but a circuit of that kind can explain and reconcile the expressions which the writer uses. VY. Chap. 1:12: “ Now this I say, that every one of you saith, 1 am of Paul; and I of Apollos; and I of Cephas ; and I of Christ.”’ Also, chap. 3:6: ‘I have planted, Apollos watered ; but God gave the increase.” This expression, “I have planted, Apollos watered,” im- ports two things: first, that Paul had been at Corinth be- fore Apollos ; secondly, that Apollos had been at CorinthFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 47 after Paul, but before the writing of this epistle. This im- pled account of the several events, and of the order in which they took place, corresponds exactly with the history. St. Paul, after his first visit into Greece, returned from Cor- inth into Syria by the way of Ephesus; and dropping his companions Aquila and Priscilla at Ephesus, he proceeded forwards to Jerusalem; from Jerusalem he descended to Antioch; and from thence made a progress through some of the upper or northern provinces of the Lesser Asia, Acts 18:19, 23; during which progress, and consequently in the interval between St. Paul’s first and second visit to Corinth, and consequently also before the writing of this epistle, which was at Ephesus, two years at least after the apostle’s return from his progress, we hear of Apollos, and we hear of him at Corinth. While St. Paul was engaged, as has been said, in Phrygia and Galatia, Apollos came down to Ephesus ; and being, in St. Paul’s absence, instructed by Aquila and Priscilla, and having obtained letters of recom- mendation from the church at Ephesus, he passed over to Achaia; and when he was there, we read that he ‘‘ helped them much which had believed through grace: for he mightily convinced the Jews, and that publicly.” Acts 18: 27,28. Tohave brought Apollos into Achaia, of which Corinth was the capital city, as well as the principal Chris- tian church, and to have shown that he preached the gospel in that country, would have been sufficient for our purpose. But the history happens also to mention Corinth by name, as the place in which Apollos, after his arrival in Achaia, fixed his residence ; for, proceeding with the account of St. Paul’s travels, it tells us, that while Apollos was at Cor- inth, Paul, having passed through the upper coasts, came down to Ephesus. Chap. 19:1. What is said, therefore, of Apollos in the epistle, coincides exactly, and especially in the point of chronology, with what is delivered concerning him in the history. The only question now is, whether the allusions were made with a regard to this coincidence. Now eee s en z ey: eee eee et Pie ee ee i ea) = a ee ee ee So es ee Pa ee Oe Se ee Se ee as Sie ie Bien Ss eee ee ee ee ee ee eee ee rs ketpl ee hit eee ee eee ‘Fase ao oe ee Se oe ee Le ee Eres 7 So ee te ee ee Se ee tee es ee ee Set pi Pwe tke s es S4Se SS eo Oe SEE oe ood Sd - : Ses 48 HORA PAULINA. the occasions and purposes for which the name of Apollos is introduced in the Acts and in the epistles are so independent and so remote, that it is impossible to discover the smallest reference from one to the other. Apollos is mentioned in the Acts, in immediate connection with the history of Aquila and Priscilla, and for the very singular circumstance of his ) ‘‘ knowing only the baptism of John.” Inthe epistle, where none of these circumstances are taken notice of, his name first occurs for the purpose of reproving the contentious spinit of the Corinthians; and it occurs only in conjunction with that of some others: ‘‘ Every one of you saith, 1 am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Christ.” The second passage in which Apollos appears, “‘I have planted, Apollos watered,” fixes, as we have observed, the order of time among three distinct events; but it fixes this, ] will venture to pronounce, without the writer perceiving that he was doing any such thing. The sentence fixes this order in exact conformity with the history; but it is itself introduced solely for the sake of the reflection which fol- lows: ‘‘ Neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth ; but God that giveth the increase.” VI. Chap. 4:11, 12: “Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are bufleted, and have no certain dwelling-place; and labor, working with our own hands.” We are expressly told in the history, that at Corinth St. Paul labored with his own hands: ‘He found Aquila and Priscilla ; and because he was of the same craft, he abode with them, and wrought ; for by their occupation they were tent-makers.” But in the text before us, he is made to say, that he labored “even unto this present hour,” that is, to the time of writing the epistle at Ephesus. Now, in the narration of St. Paul’s transactions at Ephesus, delivered in the nineteenth chapter of the Acts, nothing is said of his working with his own hands; but in the twentieth chapter we read, that upon his return from Greece, he sent for theFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 49 elders of the church of Ephesus to meet him at Miletus ; and in the discourse which: he there addressed to them, amidst some other reflections which he calls to their remem- brance, we find the following: “I have coveted no man’s silver, or gold, or apparel. Yea, ye yourselves know, that these hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me.’ The reader will not forget to remark, that thouch St. Paul be now at Miletus, it is to the elders of the church of Ephesus he is speaking, when he says, ‘ Ye yourselves know that these hands have ministered unto my necessities ;’’ and that the whole discourse relates to his conduct during his last preceding residence at Ephe- sus. That manual labor, therefore, which he had exercised at Corinth, he continued at Ephesus ; and not only so, but con- tinued it during that particular residence at Ephesus, near the conclusion of which this epistle was written ; so that he might with the strictest truth say, at the time of writing the epistle, ‘‘ Even unto this present hour we labor, work- ing with our own hands.’”’ The correspondency is sufficient. Then, as to the undesignedness of it: it is manifest, to my judgment, that if the history in this article had been taken from the epistle, this circumstance, if it appeared at all, would have appeared in its place, that is, in the direct ac- count of St. Paul’s transactions at Ephesus. The corre- spondency would not have been effected, as it is, by a kind of reflected stroke, that is, by a reference in a subsequent speech to what in the narrative was omitted. Nor is it likely, on the other hand, that a circumstance which is not extant in the history of St. Paul at Ephesus, should have been made the subject of a factitious allusion in an epistle purporting to be written by him from that place ; not to men- tion that the allusion itself, especially as to time, is too oblique und general to answer any purpose of forgery whatever. VII. Chap. 9:20: ‘And unto the Jews J became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to them that are under the law, as under the law.” Fe PSPS KOH Se HHS EERE ES SIS SS ee ese ee pee etParts a eee ee tse eee ee ee Sele et stones Pie PSEPAS HS Se peveses essing Peete ees Se ae HOR 2 PA Uh EN ae: We have the disposition here described exemplified in two instances which the history records; one, Acts 16:3: “Him,” Timothy, ‘would Paul have to go forth with him: and took and circumcised him, because of the Jews which were in those quarters; for they knew all that his father was a Greek.’ This was before the writing of the epistle. The other, Acts 21:23, 26, and after the writing of the epistle: “Do therefore this that we say to thee: We have four men which have a vow on them: them take, and pu- rify thyself with them, and be at charges with them, that they may shave their heads: and all may know that those things whereof they were informed concerning thee, are nothing ; but that thou thyself also walkest orderly, and keepest the law. Then Paul took the men, and the next day purifying himself with them, entered into the temple.” Nor does this concurrence between the character and the instances look like the result of contrivance. St. Paul m the epistle describes, or is made to describe his own accom- modating conduct towards Jews and towards Gentiles, towards the weak and over-scrupulous, towards men, indeed, of every variety of character: ‘To them that are without law, as without law, (being not without law to God, but under the law to Christ,) that I might gain them that are without law. To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.’ This is the sequel of the text which stands at the head of the present number. Tak- ing, therefore, the whole passage together, the apostle’s con- descension to the Jews is mentioned only as a part of his general disposition towards all. It is not probable that this character should have been made up from the instances in the Acts, which relate solely to his dealings with the Jews. It is not probable that a sophist should take his hint from those instances, and then extend it so much beyond them ; and it is still more ineredible that the two mstances in the Acts, circumstantially related and interwoven with the his- ee eresFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. Ol tory, should have been fabricated in order to suit the char- acter which St. Paul gives of himself in the epistle. VIII. Chap. 1: 14-17: “I thank God that I baptized none of you but Crispus and Gaius, lest any should say that I baptized in mine own name. And I baptized also the household of Stephanas; besides, I know not whether I baptized any other. For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel.” : It may be expected that those whom ‘the apostle bap- tized with his own hands were converts distinguished from the rest by some circumstance either of eminence or of con- nection with him. Accordingly, of the three names here mentioned, Crispus, we find from Acts 18:8, was a “chief ruler” of the Jewish synagogue at Corinth, who “ believed on the Lord with all his house.” Gaius, it appears from Rom. 16 : 26, was St. Paul’s host at Corinth, and the host, he tells us, “ of the whole church.” The household of Steph- anas, we read in the sixteenth chapter of this epistle, were ‘‘the first-fruits of Achaia.” Here, therefore, is the propriety we expected ; and it is a proof of reality not to be contemned ; for their names appearing in the several places in which they occur, with a mark of distinction belonging to each, could hardly be the effect of chance, without any truth to direct it: and, on the other hand, to suppose that they were picked out from these passages, and brought to- gether in the text before us, in order to display a conformity of names, is both improbable in itself, and is rendered more so by the purpose for which they are introduced. They come in to assist St. Paul’s exculpation of himself against the possible charge of having assumed the character of the founder of a separate religion, and with no other visible, or, as I think, imaginable design.* * Chap. 1:1: “Paul, called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ through the will of God, and Sosthenes our brother, unto the church of God which is at Corinth.” The only account we have of any per- son who bore the name of Sosthenes, is found in the eighteenth chapter SS oS uPiSSeee He sees eee ee ee er Seah ae ee ee ee eee Cee ae Ft Ct ee ee ey $s es veesepege ls es 7 dee Baws Bs Bee A Serie eae peek ere ee eet GEL EP SRLS SMR PET SHere loco ert Steere eee. Se eee eee SS 2p slsePevesorseF gins HOR 4 PAULIN Zi. IX. Chap. 16:11: ‘‘ Now, if Timotheus come, let no man despise him.” Why despise hin? This charge is not given concerning any other messenger whom St. Paul sent ; and, in the different epistles, many such messengers are mentioned. Turn to 1 Timothy, chap. 4:12, and you will of the Acts. When the Jews at Corinth had brought Paul before Gallio, and Gallio had dismissed their complaint as unworthy of his interference, ‘and had driven them from the judgment-seat, “then all the Greeks,’’ says the historian, ‘‘ took Sosthenes, the chief ruler of the synagogue, and beat him before the judgment-seat.’? The Sosthenes here spoken of was a Corinthian; and, if he was a Christian, and with St. Paul when he wrote this epistle, was likely enough to be joined with him in the salutation of the Corinthian church. But here occurs a difficulty. If Sosthenes was a Christian at the time of this uproar, why should the Greeks beat him? The assault upon the Christians was made by the Jews. It was the Jews who had brought Paul before the magistrate. If it had been the Jews also who had beaten Sosthe- nes, I should not have doubted but that he had been a favorer of St. Paul, and the same person who is joined with him in the epistle. Let us see, therefore, whether there be not some error in our present text. The Alexandrian manuscript gives mavre¢ alone, without oi “EAAnvec, and it is followed in this reading by the Coptic version, by the Arabian version, published by Erpenius, by the Vulgate, and by Bede’s Latin version. The Greek manuscripts, again, as well as Chrysostom, give oi lovdaiot, in the place of of “EAAnvec. A great plurality of manu- scripts authorize the reading which is retained in our copies. . In this variety it appears to me extremely probable that the historian origi- nally wrote 7a@yre¢ alone, and that of “EAAnvec and oi ’lovdator have been respectively added as explanatory of what the word wavTe¢ was sup- posed to mean. The sentence, without the addition of either name, would run very perspicuously thus: ‘“‘xae amjdacev adtod¢e dx Tod Bhuatog emiAaBouevor OF TavTEG LwodErny Tov apxXLovYVaywyor, ETUTTOV éuTpoovev Tov Byuatoc,’’—‘‘ and he drove them away from the judgment- seat; and they all,’’ namely, the crowd of Jews whom the judge had bid begone, ‘‘ took Sosthenes, and beat him before the judgment-seat.’’ Lt is certain, that as the whole body of the people were Greeks, the ap- plication of all to them was unusual and hard. If I were describing an insurrection at Paris, 1 might say all the Jews, all the Protestants, or all the English, acted so and so; but I should scarcely say all the French, when the whole mass of the community were of that descrip- tion. As what is here offered is founded upon a various reading, and that in opposition to the greater part of the manuseripts that are extant, I have not given it a place in the text. mre ASW SR, vs ae SemFIRST EPISTLE TO THR GORINTHIANS. a3 find that Timothy was a young man, younger probably than those who were usually employed in the Christian mission ; and that St. Paul, apprehending lest he should, on that account, be exposed to contempt, urges upon him the cau- tion which is there-inserted, “Let no man despise thy youth.” X. Chap. 16:1: “Now, concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given orders to the churches of Gala- tia, even so do ye.” The churches of Galatia and Phrygia were the last churches which St. Paul had visited before the writing of this epistle. He was now at Ephesus, and he came thither immediately from visiting these churches: ‘ He went over all the country of Galatia and Phrygia in order, strenethen- ing all the disciples. And it came to pass that, while Apol- los was at Corinth, Paul having passed through the upper coasts,” namely, the above-named countries, called the upper coasts as being the northern part of Asia Minor, “came to Ephesus.” Acts 18:23; 19:1. These therefore, probably, were the last churches at which he left directions for their public conduct during his absence. Although two years intervened between his journey to Ephesus and his writing this epistle, yet it does not appear that during that time he visited any other church. That he had not been silent, when he was in Galatia, upon this subject of contribution for the poor, is further made out from a hint which he lets fall in his epistle to that church : “ Only they,” namely, the other apostles, ‘‘ would that we should remember the poor ; the same which I also was forward to do.” XI. Chap. 4:18: “ Now some are puffed up, as though I would not come unto you.” Why should they suppose that he would not come? Turn to the first chapter of the second epistle to the Corin- thians, and you will find that he had already disappointed them: “I was minded to come unto you before, that ye might have a second benefit ; and to pass by you into Mac- & Lg eae ad Scenuee eS Se ly gadsdel ge tees Ts Chie ie ee ee eS ee ee ee ee ee eS ee ee es ese SNe eae hee ee ee oeae ‘LHS VSSS Pe iste eat ee baew ee wi LE eee Pees oo. eee et Se ree FeRese te Se Evie & es Weiss. Fi D4 HORA PAULINA. edonia, and to come again out of Macedonia unto you, and of you to be brought on my way toward Judea. When I therefore was thus minded, did I use lightness? Or the things that I purpose, do I purpose according to the flesh, that with me there should be yea,‘yea, andnay,nay? But, as God is true, our word toward you was not yea and nay.” It appears from this quotation that he had not only intended, but that he had promised them a visit before; for, other- wise, why should he apologize for the change of his purpose, or express so much anxiety lest this change should be im- puted to any culpable fickleness in his temper ; and lest he should thereby seem to them as one whose word was not, in any sort, to be depended upon ? Besides which, the terms made use of plainly refer to a promise, ‘ Our word toward you was not yea and nay.” St. Paul, therefore, had signi- fied an-intention which he had not been able to execute ; and this seeming breach of his word, and the delay of his visit had, with some who were evil affected towards him, given birth to a suggestion that he would come no more to Corinth. XII. Chap. 5:7, 8: ‘‘ For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us: therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wicked- ness; but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.” Dr. Benson tells us, that from this passage, compared with chap. 16:8, it has been conjectured that this epistle was written about the time of the Jewish passover; and to me the conjecture appears to be very well founded. The passage to which Dr. Benson refers us is this: ‘ I wall tarry at Ephesus until Pentecost.” With this passage he ought to have joined another in the same context: ‘“‘and it may be that I will abide, yea, and winter with you;” for from the two passages laid together, it follows that the epistle was written before Pentecost, yet after wimter, which neces- sarily determines the date to the part of the year withinFIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 55 which the passover falls. It was written before Pentecost, because he says, “I will tarry at Ephesus until Pentecost.” It was written after winter, because he tells them, “It may be that I may abide, yea, and winter with you.” The winter which the apostle purposed to pass at Corinth was undoubtedly the winter next ensuing to the date of the epis- tle; yet it was a winter subsequent to the ensuing Pente- cost, because he did not intend to set forwards upon his journey till after that feast. The words, “let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth,” look very like words suggested by the season ; at least, they have, upon that supposition, a force and sig- nificancy which do not belong to them upon any other; and it is not a little remarkable, that the hints casually dropped in the epistle, concerning particular parts of the year, should coincide with this supposition. Bert siseaSeEes eee vee es eee re eee ee Pee ee et re Se ee ee hale sola bien. us s2e: ES Eee SET HAE TS PTET: ae et re a pee oe eee SF eT * “ae ere “it : # a 7 4 & a 4 | of oe a 4 * :tees Li tste Tere ore Tee ed PROPS PAe ss Fe Sevesss es sei oes HPeheGerenrsde nae ees Sdn Se Fk ed ee eee Se es a HORA PAULINA. Char tik, Ly. THE SECOND EPISTLE TO,THE CORINTHIANS. I. I wmx not say that it is impossible, having seen the first epistle to the Corinthians, to construct a second with ostensible allusions to the first ; or that it is impossible that both should be fabricated, so as to carry on an order and continuation of story, by successive references to the same events. But I say that this, in either case, must be the eflect of craft and design. Whereas, whoever examines the allusions to the former epistle which he finds in this, while he will acknowledge them to be such as would rise sponta- neously to the hand of the writer, from the very subject of the correspondence and the situation of the corresponding parties, supposing these to be real, will see no particle of reason to suspect, either that the clauses containing these allusions were zsertzons for the purpose, or that the several transactions of the Corinthian church were feigned, in order to form a train of narrative, or to support the appearance of connection between the two epistles. 1. In the first epistle, St. Paul announces his intention of passing through Macedonia, in his way to Corinth: “I will come to you when I shall pass through Macedonia.” In the second epistle, we find him arrived in Macedonia, and about to pursue his journey to Corinth. But observe the manner in which this is made to appear: “I know the for- wardness of your mind, for which I boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago; and your zeal hath provoked very many. Yet have I sent the brethren, lest our boasting of you should be in vain in this behalf; that, as I said, ye may be ready ; lest haply if they of Mace- donia come with me, and find you unprepared, we (that we say not, ye) be ashamed in this same confident boasting.” Chap. 9:2-4. St. Paul’s being in Macedonia at the timeSECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 57 of writing the epistle is, in this passage, inferred only from his saying that he had boasted to the Macedonians of the alacrity of his Achaian converts ; and the fear which he ex- presses lest, if any of the Macedonian Christians should come with him unto Achaia, they should find his boasting unwar- ranted by the event. The business of the contribution is the sole cause of mentioning Macedonia at all. Will it be in- sinuated that this passage was framed merely to state that St. Paul was now in Mac ‘edonia ; and, by that statement, to produce an apparent agreement with the purpose of visiting Macedonia, notified in the first epistle? Or will it be thought probable, that if a sophist had meant to place St. Paul in Macedonia, for the sake of eiving countenance to his forgery, he would have done it in go oblique a manner as through the medium of a contribution? The same thing may be observed of another text in the epistle, in which the name of Macedonia occurs : ‘ Furthermore, when I came to Troas to preach the gospel, and a door was opened unto me of the Lord, I had no rest in my spirit, because I found not Titus, my brother; but taking my leave of them, I went from thence into Macedonia.” I mean, that it may be observed of this passage also, that there is a reason for mentioning Macedonia entirely distinct from the purpose of showing St. Paul to be there. Indeed, if the passage before us show that point at all, it shows it so obscurely that Grotius, though he did not doubt that Paul was now in Macedonia, refer this text to a different journey. Is this the hand of a Pe meditating to establish a false conformity? The text, how- ever, in which it is most strongly implied that St. Paul wrote the present epistle from Macedonia, is found in the fourth, fifth, and sixth verses of the seventh chapter: ‘I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation. For, when we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest, but we were troubled on every side : with- out were fightings, within were fears. Nevertheless God, that comforteth those that are cast down, comforted us by Hore Paul. 18 - i ee. ro ce eee es cea y eer et Te ee eT eee ee. ed ee ee ne tno 2 ae Po. ee ee ee ee eG eet eae oy ee ee ae | r = es pivowewee en ae Rie ee pee ee ele - gee ee oeene Pootl settee ces cle tee eee ees oe aed ere Sre¥se RL eset ts ee Se Sot tena ee Cee eee eT Tt 5 te ed eS Ae ee 58 HORA PAULINA. the coming of Titus.’ Yet even here, I think, no one will contend that St. Paul’s coming to Macedonia, or being in Macedonia, was the principal thing intended to be told; or that the telling of it, indeed, was any part of the intention with which the text was written ; or that the mention even > of the name of Macedonia was not purely incidental, in the description of those tumultuous sorrows with which the writer’s mind had been lately agitated, and from which he was relieved by the coming of Titus. The first five verses of the eighth chapter, which commend the liberality of the Macedonian churches, do not, in my opinion, by themselves, prove St. Paul to have been at Macedonia at the time of writing the epistle. 2. In the first epistle, St. Paul denounces a severe cen- sure acainst an incestuous marriage which had taken place among the Corinthian converts, with the connivance, not to say with the approbation, of the church ; and enjoins the church to purge itself of this scandal by expelling the offender from its society : “It is reported commonly that there is for- nication among you, and such fornication as is not so much as named among the Gentiles, that one should have his father’s wife. And ye are puffed up, and have not rather mourned, that he that hath done this deed might be taken away from among you. For I verily, as absent in body, but present in spirit, have judged already as though I were pres- ent, concerning him that hath so done this deed, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, when ye are gathered together, and my spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, to deliver such a one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.” i Cor. 5:1-5. In the second epistle, we find this sentence executed, and the offender to be so affected with the punish- ment that St. Paul now intercedes for his restoration: ‘ Suf- ficient to such a man is this punishment, which was inflicted of many. So that contrariwise, ye ought rather to forgive him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be esseSECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 59 swallowed up with overmuch sorrow. Wherefore I- beseech you that ye would confirm your love toward him.” 2 Gor. <:6-8. Is this whole business feigned, for the sake of car- rying on a continuation of story through the.two epistles ? The church also, no less than the offender, was brought by St. Paul’s reproof to a deep sense of the impropriety of their conduct. Their penitence, and their respect to his authority, were, as might be expected, exceeding grateful to St. Paul: ‘We were comforted not by Titus’ coming only, but by the consolation wherewith he was comforted in you, when he told us your earnest desire, your mourning, your fervent mind toward me; so that I rejoiced the more. For though I made you sorry with a letter, I do not repent, though I did repent: for I perceive that the same epistle hath made you sorry, though it were but for a season. Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sorrowed to re- pentance: for ye were made sorry after a godly manner, that ye might receive damage by us in nothing.” Chap. 7: 7-9. That this passage is to be referred to the incestu- ous marriage, is proved by the twelfth verse of the same chapter: ‘Though I wrote unto you, I did it not for his cause that had done the wrong, nor for his cause that suf- fered wrong, but that our care for you in the sight of God might appear unto you.” There were, it is true, various topics of blame noticed in the first epistle ; but there were none, except this of the incestuous marriage, which could be called a transaction between private parties, or of which it could be said that one particular person had “done the wrong,’ and another particular person ‘had suflered it.” Could all this be without foundation; or could it be put in the second epistle merely to furnish an obscure sequel to what had been said about an incestuous marriage in the first ? 3. In the sixteenth chapter of the first epistle, a col- lection for the saints is recommended to be set forward at Corinth: ‘‘ Now concerning the collection for the saints, as eee eee eo eee ee Te ee ree ee es ee a ee ee re aed eae ee rs Snares 2c epi ee een ea ee ee ee sole ie Bete Boyes EketOWS PAE SOM Men owe EEESE LS SHSPeat es Tae et Steet ee ee ayegs at Cee ek ed Rae oe a Ota Le ae Ee eae ee ee Se ae Ce ed eT es et ~£-3 ee ee oe ee ne ee ae er SeL Se teveces wesw pay 60 HORA PAULINA. I have*given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye.’ Chap. 16:1. In-the ninth chapter of the second epistle such a collection is spoken of, as in readiness to be received: ‘“‘As touching the ministering to the saints, it is superfluous for me to write to you: for I know the forward- ness of your mind, for which I boast of you to them of Mac- edonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago; and your zeal hath provoked very many.” Chap. 9:1, 2. This is such a continuation of the transaction as might be expected ; or possibly it will be said, as might easily be counterfeited : but there is a circumstance of nicety in the agreement be- tween the two epistles, which I am convinced the author of a forgery would not have hit upon, or which, if he had hit upon it, he would have set forth with more clearness. The second epistle speaks of the Corinthians as having begun this eleemosynary business a year before: ‘This is expedi- ent for you, who have begun before, not only to do, but also to be forward a year ago.” Chap.8:10. “TI boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago.” Chap. 9:2. From these texts, it is evident that something had been done in the busmess a year before. It appears, however, from other texts in the epistle, that the contribu- tion was not yet collected or paid; for brethren were sent from St. Paul to Corinth, ‘‘to make up their bounty.” Chap. 9:5. They are urged to “perform the doing of it,” chap. 8:11; and every man was exhorted to give as he purposed in his heart. Chap. 9:7. The contribution, therefore, as represented in our present epistle, was in read- iness, yet not received from the contributors; was begun, was forward long before, yet not hitherto collected. Now this representation agrees with one, and only with one sup- position, namely, that every man had laid by in store, had already provided the fund from which he was afterwards to contribute—the very case which the first epistle authorizes us to suppose to have existed; for in that epistle St. Paul had charged the Corinthians, “Upon the first day of the peter nae ‘ in the first -epistle. Now this is a species of congruity to be relied upon more than any other. It is not an agree- ment between two accounts of the same transaction, or be- tween different statements of the same fact, for the fact is not stated : nothing that can be called an account is given ; but it is the junction of two conclusions, deduced from in- dependent sources, and deducible only by investigation and comparison, This point, namely, the change of the route being prior to the writing of the first epistle, also falls in with, and ac- counts for, the manner in which he speaks in that epistle of his journey. His first intention had been, as he declares, to ‘‘ pass by them into Macedonia :” that intention having been previously given up, he writes, in his first epistle, ‘‘that he would not see them now by the way,” that is, as he must have done upon his first plan; but “that he trust- ed to tarry awhile with them, and possibly to abide, yea, and winter with them.” 1 Cor. 16:5, 6. It also accounts for a singularity in the text referred to, which must strike every reader: “I will come to you when I pass through Macedonia ; for I do pass through Macedonia.” The sup- plemental sentence, ‘for I do pass through Macedonia,” imports that there had been some previous communication upon the subject of the journey; and also that there had been some vacillation and indecisiveness in the apostle’s plan ; both which we now perceive to have been the ease. The sentence is as much as to say, “‘ This is what I at last resolve upon.” The expression, érav Maxedoviay dié290, 1S am- biguous ; it may denote either “when I pass,” or “ when I shall have passed, through Macedonia :” the considerations b oe Pye ey Sewrererree rere ets Pe Tees ol ek te: eee eae ee a ee ee Oe ee ae ee ee a ee} ne Se a aad ry : P es eee Ss ee ee ee ee F P oe eee ee ee ee ee) ee ee ee ‘wor 5 2 rte Pie kee eee ce eee tee oa teh ed at ede edE estas eases Steers Ss ape RaeG oes ace, SOF S eo Ee es 70 HORE PAULINA. offered above fix it to the latter sense. Lastly, the point we have endeavored to make out confirms, or rather, indeed, is necessary to the support of a conjecture which forms the subject of a number in our observations upon the first epis- tle, that the insinuation of certain of the church of Corinth, that he would come no more among them, was founded on some previous disappointment of their expectations. * V. But if St. Paul had changed his purpose before the writing of the first epistle, why did he defer explaming him- self to the Corinthians, concerning the reason of that change, until he wrote the second? This is a very fair question ; and we are able, I think, to return to it a satisfactory an- swer. The real cause, and the cause at length assigned by St. Paul for postponing his visit to Corinth, and not travel- ling by the route which he had at first designed, was the disorderly state of the Corinthian church at the time, and the painful-severities which he should have found himself obliged to exercise, if he had come among them during the existence of these irregularities. He was willing therefore to try, before he came in person, what a letter of authorita- tive objurgation would do among them, and to leave time for the operation of the experiment. That was his scheme in writing the first epistle. But 1t was not for him to ac- quaint them with the scheme. After the epistle had pro- duced its effect—and to the utmost extent, as 1t should seem, of the apostle’s hopes—when he had wrought in them a deep sense of their fault, and an almost passionate solicitude to restore themselves to the approbation of their teacher ; when Titus, chap. 7:6, 7, 11, had brought him intelligence “ of their earnest desire, their mourning, their fervent mind tow- ards him, of their sorrow and their penitence ; what careful- ness, what clearing of themselves, what indignation, what fear, what vehement desire, what zeal, what revenge,” his letter and the general concern oceasioned by it had excited among them, he then opens himself fully wpon the subject. The affectionate mind of the apostle is touched by this returnSECOND EPISTLE FO THE CORINTHIANS. - 7# of zeal and duty. He tells them that he did not visit them at the time proposed, lest their meeting should have been attended with mutual grief; and with grief to him imbit- tered bythe reflection, that he was giving pain to those from Whom alone he could receive comfort: ‘‘ I determined this with myself, that I would not come again to you in heavi- ness. or if 1 make you sorry, who is he then that maketh me glad, but the same which is made sorry by me?” chap. 2:1, 2: that he had wmtten his former epistle to warn them beforehand of their fault, ‘lest, when he came, he should have sorrow from them of whom he ought to re- joice,” chap. 2:3: that he had the further view, though perhaps unperceived by them, of making an experiment of their fidelity, ‘‘to know the proof of them, whether they are obedient in all things,” chap. 2:9. This full discovery of his motive came very naturally from the apostle, after he had seen the success of his measures, but would not have been a seasonable communication before. The whole com- poses a train of sentiment and of conduct resulting from real situation, and from real circumstance, and as remote as pos- sible from fiction or imposture. VI. Chap. 11:9: ‘* When I was present with you, and wanted, I was chargeable to no man; for that which was lacking to me the brethren which came from Macedonia supplied.” The principal fact set forth in-this passage, the arrival at Corinth of brethren from Macedonia during St. Paul’s first residence in that city, is explicitly recorded, Acts 18:1, 5: “After these things Paul departed from Athens, and came to Corinth. And when Silas and Timotheus were come from Macedonia, Paul was pressed in the spirit, and testified to the Jews that Jesus was Christ.” VII. The above quotation from the Acts proves that Silas and Timotheus were assistants to St. Paul in preach- ing the gospel at Corinth. With which correspond the words of the epistle, chap. 1:19: ‘‘ For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by us, even by eer rT re To et eee ee ees Fao] eee yee ee re eee Oe ee ee eee a ee to ae Sa eee AA pe aie aed oe ee Se ee egens hs t2 HORE PAULINE. wretts ? | me and Silvanus and Timotheus, was not yea and nay ; but f in him was yea.” I do admit that the correspondency, considered by itself, is too direct and obvious; and that an impostor with the history before him might, and probably . ( would, produce agreements of the same kind. But let it be i remembered, that this reference is found in a writing which, a from many discrepancies, and especially from those noted No. II., we may conclude, was not composed by any one Dee eRe ee to ee Se ee eee maa oe who had consulted, and who pursued the history. Some observation also arises upon the variation of the name. We read Silas in the Acts, Silvanus in the epistle. The simili- tude of these two names, if they were the names of different persons, 1s greater than could easily have proceeded from accident ; 1 mean, that it is not probable that two persons SO ee Se St ee ea Ne ed Eee placed in situations so much alike, should bear names so nearly resembling each other.* On the other hand, the difference of the name in the two passages necatives the supposition of the passages, or the account contained in them, being transcribed either from the other. VIIl.~Chap. 2:12, 13: “When I came to Troas to preach Christ’s gospel, and a door was opened unto me of the Lord, I had no rest in my spirit, because I found not Titus my brother; but taking my leave of them, I went from thence into Macedonia.” Se ee ee Se ae ele To establish a conformity between this passage and the history, nothing more is necessary to be presumed, than that St. Paul proceeded from Ephesus to Macedonia, upon the Same course by which he came back from Macedonia to Ephesus, or rather to Miletus, in the neighborhood of Ephe- sus ; in other words, that in his journey to the peninsula of CE ee Te eT ee eee Greece, he went and returned the same way. St. Paul is now in Macedonia, where he had lately arrived from Ephe- sus. Our quotation imports that in his journey he had stop- ae ped at Troas. Of this the history says nothing, leaving us mi * That they were the same persons is farther confirmed by 1 Thess. : 1:1, compared with Acts 17:10.SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 73 only the short account, that “Paul departed from Ephesus, for to go into Macedonia.” But the history says, that in his return from Macedonia to Ephesus, ‘“ Paul sailed from Phi- lippi to Yroas ; and that, when the disciples came together on the first day of the week to break bread, Paul preached unto them all night; that from Troas he went by land to Assos ; from Assos, taking ship and coasting along the front of Asia Minor, he came by Mitylene to Miletus.” Which account proves, first, that Troas lay in the way by which St. Paul passed between Ephesus and Macedonia; second- ly, that he had disciples there. In one journey between these two places, the epistle, and in another journey be- tween the same places, the history makes him stop at this city. Of the first journey he is made to say, “ that a door was in that city opened unto me of the Lord ;’”’ in the sec- ond, we find disciples there collected around him, and the apostle exercising his ministry with what was, even in him, more than ordinary zeal and labor. The epistle, therefore, is in this instance confirmed, if not by the terms, at least by the probability of the history ; a species of confirmation by no means to be despised, because, as far as it reaches, it is evidently uncontrived. Grotius, I know, refers the arrival at Troas, to which the epistle alludes, to a diffefent period, but I think very im- probably ; for nothing appears to me more certain, than that the meeting with Titus, which St. Paul expected at Troas, was the same meeting which took place in Macedonia, namely, upon Titus’s coming out of Greece. In the quota- tion before us, he tells the Corinthians, ‘‘ When I came to Troas,.... 1 had no rest in my spirit, because I found not Titus my brother; but, taking my leave of them, I went from thence into Macedonia.” Then in the seventh chapter he writes, ‘‘ When we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest, but we were troubled on every side ; without os, within were fears. Nevertheless God, that feo Sot } comforteth them that are cast down, comforted us by the were fightin i Sy es ey! a Sel ggteseeigereee Fe $ehSFSFST* eee yee ee ee ee Pee a eee. ee ee ee ee en ae ee ee ee | Pe de 2S ee ee ee ee eee ee ee eae ee ee eee ee ee)Cet eutt re eee eee eT De eh ee ee ee oe er ee a eee ce et a ee et eet ee eS 5 cata ae ee ee ee ee et aed ee eae ears pee ee ee ee 74 HORA PAULINA. coming of Titus.” These two passages plainly relate to the same journey of Titus, in meeting with whom St. Paul had been disappointed at Troas, and rejoiced in Macedonia. And among other reasons which fix the former passage to the coming of Titus out of Greece, is fhe consideration, that it was nothing to the Corinthians that St. Paul did not meet with Titus at Troas, were it not that he was to bring intel- ligence from Corinth. The mention of the disappointment im this place, upon any other supposition, is irrelative. IX. Chap. 11:24, 25: ‘Of the Jews five times receiv- ed I forty stripes save one, thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep.” These particulars cannot be extracted out of the Acts of the Apostles, which proves, as has been already observed, that the epistle was not framed from the history; yet they are consistent with it, which, considering how numerically circumstantial the account is, is more than could happen to arbitrary and independent fictions. When I say that these particulars are consistent with the history, I mean, first, that there is no article in the enumeration which is contra- dicted by the history; secondly, that the history, though silent with respect to many of the facts here enumerated, has left space for the existence of these facts, consistent with the fidelity of its own narration. First, no contradiction is discoverable between the epistle and the history. When St. Paul says, thrice was I beaten with rods, although the history record only one beating with rods, namely, at Philippi, Acts 16 : 22, yet there is no con- tradiction. It is only the omission in one book of what is related in another. But had the history contained accounts of four beatings with rods, at the time of writing this epis- tle, in which St. Paul says that he had only suffered three, there would have been a contradiction properly so called. The same observation applies generally to the other parts of the enumeration concerning which the history is silent ; butSECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 75 there is one clause in the quotation particularly deserving of remark, because, when confronted with the history, it fur- wishes the nearest approach to a contradiction, without a contradiction being actually incurred, of any I remember to have met with: “Once,” says St. Paul, ‘“‘ was I stoned.” Does the history relate that St. Paul, prior to the writing of this epistle, had been stoned more than once? The history mentions distinctly one occasion upon which St. Paul -was stoned, namely, at Lystra in Lycaonia: “ There came thith- er certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium, who persuaded the people, and, having stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had been dead.” Acts 14:19. And it mentions also another occasion in which ‘‘an assault was made, both of the Gentiles, and also of the Jews with their rulers, to use them despitefully and to stone them ; but they were aware of it,” the history proceeds to tell us, ‘‘ and fled into Lystra and Derbe.” This happened at Iconium, prior to the date of the epistle. , Now, had the assault been com- pleted—had the history related that a stone was thrown, as it relates that preparations were made both by Jews and Gentiles to stone Paul and his companions; or even had the account of this transaction stopped, without going on to in- form us that Paul and his companions were “ aware of their danger and fled,” a contradiction between the history and the epistle would have ensued. Truth is necessarily con- ’ sistent ; but it 1s scarcely possible that independent accounts, not having truth to guide them, should thus advance to the very brink of contradiction without falling into it. Secondly, I say, that if the Acts of the Apostles be silent concerning many of the instances enumerated in the epistle, this silence may be accounted for from the plan and fabric of the history. The date of the epistle synchronizes with the beginning of the twentieth chapter of the Acts. The part, therefore, of the history which precedes the twentieth chapter, 1s the only part in which can be found any notice of the persecutions to which St. Paul refers. Now it does Sen Te eS Se Serre rte Tee errr eee Pe te 2 ele ee ee a oe ee et eee eee ee ee ee io othe Feet. Pe pee ee pie ee ee re a ee dd oe oe ee ae aeSee resp Ce aches EReP Steg eH tesevesesys piety 4 et ee Ee eo gi ws a ed Ee ee ed rs bi te) i td ee 76 HORA PAULINA. not appear that the author of the history was with St. Paul until his departure from Troas, on his way to Macedonia, as related chap. 16:10; or rather indeed the contrary appears. It is in this point of the history that the language changes. In the seventh and eighth verses ‘of this chapter the third person is used: ‘‘ After they were come to Mysia, they as- sayed to go into Bithynia; but the Spirit suffered them not. And they passing by Mysia came to Troas:’” and the third person is in like manner constantly used throughout the fore- going part of the history. In the tenth verse of this chap- ter, the first person comes in: “ After Paul had seen the vision, immediately we endeavored to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called ws for to preach the gospel unto them.” Now, from this time to the writing of the epistle, the history occupies four chapters ; yet it 1s in these, if in any, that a regular or continued account of the apostle’s life is to be expected ; for how succinctly his histo- ry is delivered in the preceding part of the book, that is to say, from the time of his conversion to the time when the historian jomed him at Troas, except the particulars of his conversion itself, which are related circumstantially, may be understood from the following observations : The history of a period of sixteen years 1s comprised in less than three chapters; and of these, a material part is taken up with discourses. After his conversion he continu- ed in the neighborhood of Damascus, according to the histo- ry, for a certain considerable, though indefinite length of time—according to his own words, Gal. 1:18,-for three years ; of which no other account is given than this short one, that ‘‘straightway he preached Christ in the syna- gogues, that he is the Son of God; that all that heard him were amazed, and said, Is not this he that destroyed them which called on this name in Jerusalem? that he increased the more in strength, and confounded the Jews which dwelt at Damascus; and that after many days were fulfilled, the Jews took counsel to lall him.” From Damascus he pro-SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. Th ceeded to Jerusalem; and of his residence there nothing more particular is recorded, than that “‘he was with the apostles, coming in and going out; that he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Gre- clans, who went about to kill him.’”’ From Jerusalem, the history sends him to his native city of Tarsus. Acts9:30. It seems probable, from the order and disposition of the history, that St. Paul’s stay at Tarsus was of some continuance ; for . we hear nothing of him until, after a long apparent interval, and much interjacent narrative, Barnabas, desirous of Paul’s assistance upon the enlargement of the Christian mission, ‘went to Tarsus for to seek him.’’ Chap. 11:25. We cannot doubt but that the new apostle had been busied in his minis- try; yet of what he did, or what he suffered, during this pe- riod, which may include three or four years, the history pro- fesses not to deliver any information. As Tarsus was situated upon the sea-coast, and as, though Tarsus was his home, yet it is probable he visited from thence many other places, for the purpose of preaching the gospel, it 1s not unlikely, that in the course of three or four years he might undertake many short voyages to neighboring countries, in the naviga- ting of which we may be allowed to suppose that some of those disasters and shipwrecks befell him to which he refers in the quotation before us, ‘‘ thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been inthe deep.” This last clause I am inclined to interpret of his being obliged to take an open boat, upon the loss of the ship, and his continuing out at sea in that dangerous situation, a night and a day. St. Paul is here recounting his sufferings, not relating miracles. From Tarsus, Barnabas brought Paul to Antioch, and there he remained a year; but of the transactions of that year no other description is given than what is contained in the last four verses of the eleventh chapter. After a more solemn dedication to the ministry, Barnabas and Paul proceeded from Antioch to Cilicia, and from thence they sailed to Cy- prus, of which voyage no particulars are mentioned. Upon eer te Se ee Sl eess sep egs teed eee ie ee a ge ae ee ee eee See aa ai BSdSSSHeS She adad ep ae ey ee a eee ee RN alaete Cet. ee Sty Pees +i Stet epee bases keds SELS Sp eSSeReyveses od goney See PePefetecsdca wes Ewe Ss ee a deed. oe a ee 2 = # ee 78 HORE PAULINE. their return from Cyprus, they made a progress together through the Lesser Asia; and though two remarkable speeches be preserved, and a few incidents in the course of their travels circumstantially related, yet is the account of this progress, upon the whole, given professedly with conciseness : for instance, at Iconium, it 1s said that they abode a long time, Acts 14:3; yet of this long abode, except concerning the manner in which they were driven away, no memoir is in- serted in the history. The whole is wrapped up in one short summary, ‘They spake boldly in the Lord, which gave tes- timony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hands.” Having completed their progress, the two apostles returned to Antioch, ‘and there they abode a long time with the disciples.” Here we have another large portion of time passed over im silence. To this succeeded a journey to Jerusalem, upon a dispute which then much agitated the Christian church, concerning the obligation of the law of Moses. When the object of that joumey was completed, Paul proposed to Barnabas to go again and visit their brethren in every city where they had preach- ed the word of the Lord. The execution of this plan carried our apostle through Syria, Cilicia, and many provinces of the Lesser Asia; yet is the account of the whole journey dispatched in four verses of the sixteenth chapter. If the Acts of the Apostles had undertaken to exhibit regular annals of St. Paul’s ministry, or even any continued account of his life, from his conversion at Damascus to his imprisonment at Rome, I should have thought the omission of the circumstances referred to in our epistle a matter of reasonable objection. But when it appears from the histo- ry itself, that large portions of St. Paul’s life were either passed over in silence, or only slightly touched upon, and that nothing more than certain detached meidents and dis- courses is related; when we observe, also, that the author of the history did not join our apostle’s society till a few years before the writing of the epistle, at least that there is no es eee eeeSECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. Pi proof in the history that he did so; in comparing the histo- ry with the epistle, we shall not be surprised by the discov- ry of omissions : ‘we shall ascribe it to truth that there is no contradiction. X. Chap. 3:1: “Do we begin again to commend our- selves ; or need we, as some others, letters of commendation from you ?”’ “As some others.” Turn to Acts 18:27, and you will find that a short time-before the writing of this epistle, A pol- los had gone to Corinth with letters of commendation from the Ephesian Christians; “and when Apollos was disposed to pass into Achaia, the brethren wrote, exhorting the disei- ples to receive him.” Here the words of the epistle bear the appearance of alluding to some specific instance, and the history supplies that instance; it supphes at least an in- stance as apposite as possible to the terms which the apostle uses, and to the date and direction of the epistle in which they are found. The letter which Apollos carried from Ephesus was precisely the letter of commendation which St. Paul meant; and it was.to Achaia, of which Cormth was the capital, and indeed to Corinth itself, Acts 19:1, that Apollos carried it; and it was about two years before the writing of this epistle. If St. Paul’s words be rather thought to refer to some general usage which then obtained among the Christian churches, the case of Apollos exempli- fies that usage; and aflords that species of confirmation to the epistle which arises from seeing the manners of the age, in which it purports to be written, faithfully preserved. Xi Chap.13'21 +“ Diss is the third time I am coming to you 2 rpirov TodTo Epxopat. Do not these words import that the writer had been at Corinth twice before? Yet if they import this, they overset every congruity we have been endeavoring to establish. The Acts of the Apostles record only two journeys of St. Paul to Corinth. We have all along supposed, what every mark of time except this expression indicates, that this epistle was eer cers Tost ee rr es $e Sennse a ee ee ee a) hr te ad ee ee wl te Om eR EE Ede Rweiinten nwke SS RSH ESS HSL CHEM A ee ee ee ea Tey oe. ee ee tsEe eee eT re ee eee es re LEREISE ESE SS eee ead eed 1) Eo ah Re, eS hor of eo Ee ee ae Se ee et ee ee ce nea IF EPH Ore RR EREE Se ed 80 HORA PAULIN 2. written between the first and second of these journeys. If St. Paul had been already twice at Corinth, this supposition must be given up; and every argument or observation which depends upon it falls to the ground. -Again, the Acts of the Apostles not only record no more than two journeys of St. Paul to Corinth, but do not allow us to suppose that more than two such journeys could be made or intended by him within the period which the history comprises ; for from his first journey into Greece to his first imprisonment at Rome, with which the history concludes, the apostle’s time is accounted for. If therefore the epistle was written after the second journey to Corinth, and upon the view and expec- tation of a third, it must have been written after his first imprisonment at Rome, that is, after the time to which the history extends. When I first read over this epistle with the particular view of comparing it with the history, which I chose to do without consulting any commentary whatever, I own that I felt myself confounded by this text. It appeared to contradict the opinion, which I had been led by a great variety of circumstances to form, concerning the date and occasion of the epistle. At length, however, it occurred to my thoughts to inquire, whether the passage did necessarily imply that St. Paul had been at Corinth twice ; or whether, when he says, ‘‘ this is the third time I am coming to you,” he might mean only that this was the third time that he was ready, that he was prepared, that he intended to set out on his journey to Corinth. JI recollected that he had once be- fore this purposed to visit Corinth, and had been disappoimt- ed in this purpose.;, which disappointment forms the subject of much apology and’ protestation, in the first and second chapters of the epistle. Now, if the journey in which he had been disappomted was reckoned by him one of the times in which “ he was coming to them,” then the present would be the third time, that is, of his being ready and prepared to come ; although he had been actually at Corinth only once before. This conjecture being taken up, a further examina-SECOND EPISTLE TO THE Ct ORINTHIANS. 81 tion of the passage and the placed it beyond doubt. ing to you :” epistle produced proofs which “This is the third time I am com- in the verse fo llowing these w ords, he adds, ‘I told you before, and foretell] you, as if I were present, the and being absent now I write to them which heretofore have sinned and to all other, t second tenve ; Ay c that, if I come In this verse the apostle is declar- ing beforehand w S he would do in his intended visit : his expression, therefore, ‘as if I were present a second time,” relates to that visit. But, if his future visit would only make him present amone them a second time, it follows that he had been already there but once. again, I will not spare. Again, in the fifteenth verse of the first chapter, he tells them, “In this confidence I was minded to come unto you before, that ye might have a second benefit.” Why a second, and not a third benefit? why OetTEpar, and not TpiTHv yapLyr, if the 71 TpiTov Epxozat, in the fifteenth chapter, meant a third visit ? for, though the visit in the first ch 1apter be that visit in which he was di isappoint- ed, yet, as it is evident from the epistle that he h ad never been at Corinth from the time of the disappe intment to the time of writing the epistle, it follows, that if it were only second visit in which he was geapeaptel then, it could only be a second visit which he proposed now. But the text which I think is decisive of the question, if any question remain upon the subject, is the fourteenth verse of the twelfth chapter, ‘‘ Behold, the third time I am ready to come to you :” "Idod zpitov érotpac éyw deity. Tt is very clear that the Tpizov Etoiwac éyw éiSeiv of the twelfth chapter , and the tpitov Teito épyoua of the thirteenth ch lapter, are equivalent expressions, were intended to convey the same meaning, and to relate to the same journey. The comparison of these Paul’s own explanation of his own words ; and it is that very explanation which we are con- tending for, namely, that zpirov phrases gives us St. TOUTO Epxouat does not mean that he was coming a third time, but that this was t] time he was in readiness to come, tpitov éroiuwe éyav. I do 1e third Hore Paul. 19 Peasensaeeseies SES e- cgerd save ge lees ot q pa She ASS Osi Got Se He SLWS pe aoe ee ee ee ed he 2 ee et eee Se ee 2 is ipa cad nw en ear oe SPee eae pee ty poe ee ee ee & oe ee aeee Set Red Se fo a Ee ee Ses Ser te Sear e fae se ee eee et aS es , ciate a kd eee Se ie na Ce ee el oe oe MePEPie sf PePevetesesgsssy ee 82 HORA PAULINA. not apprehend, that after this it can be necessary to call to our aid the reading of the Alexandrian manuscript, which gives éroiuwc tyo éAveiv mm the thirteenth chapter as well as in the twelfth ; or of the Syriac and Coptic versions, which fol- low that reading ; because I allow that this reading, besides not being sufficiently supported by ancient copies, is probably paraphyastical, and has been inserted for the purpose of ex- pressmg more unequivocally the sense which the shorter expression zpirov roiro épyouae Was supposed to carry. Upon the whole, the matter is sufficiently certain: nor do I pro- pose it as a new interpretation of the text which contains the difficulty, for the same was given by Grotius long ago; but I thought it the clearest way of explaining the subject, to describe the manner in which the difficulty, the solution, and the proofs of that solution successively presented them- selves to my inquiries. Now, in historical researches, a rec- onciled inconsistency becomes a positive argument. First, because an impostor generally guards against the appear- ance of inconsistency ; and secondly, because, when apparent inconsistencies are found, it is seldom that any thing but truth renders them capable of reconciliation. The existence of the difficulty proves the want or absence of that caution which usually accompanies the consciousness of fraud; and the solu- tion proves, that it is not the collusion of fortuitous proposi- tions which we have to deal with, but that a thread of truth winds through the whole, which preserves every cireum- stance in its place. XII. Chap. 10: 14-16: ‘ We are come as far as to you also in preaching the gospel of Christ : not boasting of things without our measure, that is, of other men’s labors; but having hope, when your faith is mcreased, that we shall be enlarged by you according to our rule abundantly to preach the gospel in the regions beyond you.” This quotation affords an indirect, and therefore “‘unsus- picious, but at the same time a distinct and indubitable recognition of the truth and exactness of the history. I con- eee ees 2SECOND EPISTEE T6 THE CORINTHIANS. $38 sider it to be implied by the words of the quotation, that Corinth was the extremity of St. Paul’s travels hitherto. He expresses to the Corinthians his hope, that in some future visit he might ‘preach the gospel to the regions beyond them ;” which imports that he had not hitherto proceeded ‘beyond them,” but that Corinth was as yet the furthest point or boundary of his travels. Now, how is St. Paul’s first journey into Europe, which was the only one he had taken before the writing of the epistle, traced out in the history? Sailing from Asia, he landed at Philippi; from Philippi, traversing the eastern coast of the peninsula, he passed through Amphipolis and Appollonia to Thessalonica ; from thence through Berea to Athens, and from Athens to Corinth, where he stopped ; and from whence, after a resi- dence of a year and a half, he sailed back into Syria. So that Corinth was the last place which he visited in the peninsula ; was the place from which he returned into Asia, and was, as such, the boundary and limit of his progress. fle could not have said the same thing, namely, “I hope hereafter to visit the regions beyond you,” in an epistle to the Philippians, or in an epistle to the Thessalonians, inas- much as he must be deemed to have already visited the regions beyond them, having proceeded from those cities to other parts of Greece. But from Corinth he returned home: every part therefore beyond that-city might properly be said, as it is said in the passage. before us, fo be unvisited. Yet is this propriety the spontaneous effect of truth, and produced without meditation or design. at ese ivgivscmed gs tees Tse lessees te ae ee ee ee ee eS et : a3 et P Ce F we Se 4 eee ee eo E: Be ee en es f EgeSusaiesaee my : oe ee ee ee babe oerVercors ee ee ee Se CD eee feet ee Ee ee 5 Stee se faeraseere ess cene Cee ete Pe ch eed ee tes eee es paAP kOAeS pH Se Mevesssws ei eiy CiiA tT AE te | Y . THE EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. I. Tur argument of this epistle in some measure proves its antiquity. It will hardly be doubted, but that it was writ- ten while the dispute concerning the circumcision of Gentile converts was fresh in men’s minds; for, even supposing it to have been a forgery, the only credible motive that can be assigned for the forgery, was to bring the name and author- ity of the apostle into this controversy. No design could be so insipid, or so unlikely to enter into the thoughts of any man, as to produce an epistle written earnestly and pointedly upon one side of a controversy, when the controversy itself was dead, and the question no longer interesting to any description of readers whatever. Now the controversy con- cerning the circumcision of the Gentile Christians was of such a nature, that, if it arose at all, it must have arisen in the beginning of Christianity. As Judea was the scene of the Christian history—as the Author and preachers of Chris- tianity were Jews as the religion itself acknowledged and vas founded upon the Jewish religion, in contradistinction from every other religion then professed among mankind, it was not to be wondered at, that some of its teachers should carry it out in the world rather as a sect and modification of Judaism, than as a separate original revelation ; or that they should invite their proselytes to those observances in which they lived themselves. This was likely to happen; but if it did not happen at jivst—if, while the religion was in the hands of Jewish teachers, no such claim was advanced, no such condition was attempted to be imposed, it is not prob- able that the doctrine would be started, much less that it should prevail in any future period. I likewise think, that those pretensions of Judaism were much more likely to be insisted upon while the Jews continued a nation, than after ee a CareEPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. OO 5 their fall and dispersion—while Jerusalem and the temple stood, than after the destruction brought upon them by the Roman arms, the fatal cessation of the sacrifice and the priesthood, the humiliating loss of their country, and, with it, of the great rites and symbols of their institution. It should seem, therefore, from the nature of the subject and the situation of the parties, that this controversy was carried on in the interval between the preaching of Christianity to the Gentiles and the invasion of Titus; and that our present epistle, which was undoubtedly intended to bear a part in this controversy, must be referred to the same period. But, again, the epistle supposes that certain designing adherents of the Jewish law had crept into the churches of Galatia, and had been endeavoring, and but too successfully, to persuade the Galatic converts that they had been taught the new religion imperfectly and at second hand—that the founder of their church himself possessed only an inferior and deputed commission, the seat of truth and authority being in the apostles and elders of Jerusalem; moreover, that whatever he might profess among them, he had himself, at other times and in other places, given way to the doctrine of circumcision. The epistle is unintelligible without suppos- ing all this. Referring therefore to this, as to what had actually passed, we find St. Paul treating so unjust an attempt to undermine his credit, and to-introduce among his converts a doctrine which he had uniformly reprobated, in terms of great asperity and indignation. And in order to refute the suspicions which had been raised concerning the fidelity of his teaching, as well as to assert the independency and divine original of his mission, we find him appealing to the history of his conversion, to his conduct under it, to the manner in which he had conferred with the apostles when he met with them at Jerusalem: alleging, that so far was his doctrine from being derived from them, or they from exer- cising any superiority over him, that they had simply assent- ed to what he had already preached among the Geutiles, and > e- cepa se gee ge tees Tf ee ee ee re at tk Ce ee eee ae Oe a ee ee ae ee ee Pee eee er eed ee oe ee reore Steere? Rae. Pee eee eee eee eee Sehr en es PS Oe ah eS ee eet = = FEHR ee SAP ee ee Dik eee et ke eee ee ee £6 HORA PAULINA. which preaching was communicated not by them to him, but by himself to them; that he had maintained the liberty of the Gentile church by opposing, upon one occasion, an apostle to the face, when the timidity’ of his behavior seemed to endanger it; that from the first, that all along, that to that hour he had constantly resisted the claims of Judaism ; and that the persecutions which he daily underwent, at the hands or by the instigation of the Jews, and of which he bore in his person the marks and scars, might have been avoided by him, if he had consented to employ his labors in bringing, through the medium of Christianity, converts over to the Jewish institution, for then ‘‘ would the offence of the cross have ceased.’’ Now an impostor who had forged the epistle for the purpose of producing St. Paul’s authority in the dispute. which, as has been observed, is the only cred- ible motive that can be assigned for the forgery, might have made the apostle deliver his opinion upon the subject in strong and decisive terms, or might have put his name to a train of reasoning and argumentation upon that side of the question which the impostor was intended to recommend. I can allow the possibility of such a scheme as that; but for a writer, with this purpose in view, to feign a series of trans- actions supposed to have passed among the Christians of Galatia, and then to counterfeit expressions of anger and resentment excited by these transactions ; to make the apos- tle travel back into his own history, and into a’ recital of various passages of his life, some indeed directly, but others obliquely, and others even obscurely bearing upon the point in question ; m a word, to substitute narrative for argument, expostulation and complaint for dogmatic positions and con- troversial reasoning, in a writing properly controversial, and of which the aim and design was to support one side of a much agitated question—is a method so intricate, and so unlike the methods pursued by all other impostors, as to require very flagrant proofs of imposition to induce us to be- lieve it to be one. a oe eet S|EPISTLE DO THE GAUATIANS. 87 Il. In this number I shall endeavor to prove, 1. That the epistle to the Galatians and the Acts of the Apostles were written without any communication with each other. 2. That the epistle, though written without any com- munication with the history by recital, implication, or refer- ence, bears testimony to many of the facts contained in it. 1. The epistle and the Acts of the Apostles were written without any communication with each other. To judge of this point, we must examine those passages in each which describe the same transaction; for if the author of either writing derived his information from the account which he had seen in the other, when he came to speak of the same transaction, he would follow that account. The history of St. Paul at Damascus, as read in the Acts, and as referred to by the epistle, forms an instance of this sort. According to the Acts, Paul, after his conversion, was certain days with the “ disciples which were at Damascus. And straightway he preached Christ in the synagogues, that he is the Son of God. But all that heard him were amazed, and said, Is not this he that destroyed them which called on his name in Jerusalem, and came hither for that intent, that he might bring them bound unto the chief priests? But Saul increased the more in strength, confounding the Jews which dwelt at Damascus, proving that this is very Christ. And after that many days were fulfilled, the Jews took counsel to lall him. But their laying wait was known to Saul. And they watched the gates day and night to kill him. Then the disciples took him by night, and let him down by the wall in a basket. And when Saul was come to Jerusalem, he assayed to join himself to the disciples.” Chap. 9 : 19-26. According to the epistle, ‘‘ When it pleased God, who separated me from my mother’s womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him among the heathen ; immediately I conferred not with flesh e eebd seed Zeieee TPE See ess STIS eer. vee re ee ee ee ee ene, See ee ee ee ae ee ee pee ee ee ee ae ee eeet Lee ele ese ee eee eee eee pies POP oePece+ sot evecestwe gon ra Ce et ed eee a eee ee eee at 88 HORA PAULINA. and blocd: neither went I up to Jerusalem to them which were apostles before me; but I went into Arabia, and re- turned again unto Damascus. Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem.” Besides the difference observable in the terms and gen- eral complexion of these two accounts, “the journey inte Arabia”’ mentioned in the epistle and omitted in the histo ry, aflords full proof that there existed no correspondence be- tween these writers. Ifthe narrative in the Acts had beer made up from the epistle, it is impossible that this journey should have been passed over in silence; if the epistle had been composed out of what the author had read of St. Paul's history in the Acts, it is unaccountable that it should have been inserted.* The journey to Jerusalem related in the second chapter of the epistle—“then fourteen years after, I went up again to Jerusalem’’—supplies another example of the same kind. Hither this was the journey described in the fifteenth chap- ter of the Acts, when Paul and Barnabas were sent from Antioch to Jerusalem to consult the apostles and elders upon the question of the Gentile converts, or it was some journey of which the history does not take notice. If the first opin- ion be followed, the discrepancy in the two accounts is so considerable, that it is not without difficulty they can be adapted to the same transaction ; so that upon this supposi- tion, there is no place for susp guided or assisted by each other. If the latter opinion be vecting that the writers were preferred, we have then a journey to Jerusalem, and a con- ference with the principal members of the church there, cir- * N.B. The Acts of the Apostles simply inform us that St. Paul left Damascus in order to go to Jerusalem, “after many days were fulfilled.” If any doubt whether the words “‘many days”’ could be intended to express a period which included a term of three years, he will find a complete instance of the same phrase used with the same latitude in the first book of Kings, chap. 11:38, 39: “And Shimei dwelt in Jerusalem many days. And it came to pass at the end of three years, that two of the servants of Shimei ran away.” are ae | (ier ti atias ceEPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. 89 cumstantially related in the epistle, and entirely omitted in the Acts; and we are at liberty to repeat the observation which we before made, that the omission of so material a fact in the history is inexplicable, if the historian had read the epistle; and that the insertion of it in the epistle, if the writer derived his information from the history, is not less so. St. Peter’s visit to Antioch, during which the dispute arose between him and &t. Paul, is not mentioned in the Acts. If we connect with these instances the general observa- tion that no scrutiny can discover the smallest trace of tran- scription or imitation, either in things or words, we shall be fully satisfied in this part of our case ; namely, that the two records, be the facts contained in them true or false, come to our hands from independent sources. Secondly, I say that the epistle thus proved to have been written without any communication with the history, bears testimony to a great variety of particulars contained in. the history. 1. St. Paul, in the early part of his life,"had addicted himself to the study of the Jewish religion, and was distin- guished by his zeal for the institution, and for the traditions which had been incorporated with it. Upon this part of his character the history makes St. Paul speak thus: ‘I am verily a man which am a Jew, born in Tarsus, a city of Cilicia, yet brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, and taught according to the perfect manner of the law of the fathers, and was zealous toward God, as ye all are this day? inActs 2223. The epistle is as follows: ‘I profited in the Jews’ relig- ion above many my equals in mine own nation, being more exceedingly zealous of the traditions of my fathers.” Chap. de ea 2. St. Paul, before his conversion, had been a fierce per- secutor of the new sect. ‘As for Saul, he made havoe of 19% Eh eS oe Sel cgpesaee gets es Fe 7s hese te eer er ers eae ee ule Ee ee ee eg lhe Fetes We R See ee sues ee ee ee er a ibe hinigsadasacate ts ee ee ee—<2 se: a es % eee were co eo he Stee ce Tene Pee eee ee ee Det ees tote. eee ey nae eT en rae eee oe Ses 90 HORA PAULINE. the church, entering into every house, and haling men and women, committed them to prison.” Acts 8:3. This is the history of St. Paul, as delivered in the Acts ; in the recital of his own history in the epistle, “Ye have heard,” says he, ‘of my conversation in time past in the Jews religion, how that beyond measure I persecuted the church of God.” Chap. 1: 13. 3. St. Paul was miraculously converted on his way to Damascus. ‘‘And as he journeyed, he came near Damas- cus: and suddenly there shined round about him a lght from heaven; and he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And he trembling and astonished, said, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” Acts 9: 3-6. With these compare the epistle, chap. 1: 15-17: ‘‘When it pleased God, who separated me from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that [| might preach him among the heathen; immediately I con- ferred not with flesh and blood: neither went I up to Jeru- salem to them that were apostles before me: but I went into Arabia, and returned again unto Damascus.” In this quotation from the epistle, I desire it to be re- marked how incidentally it appears that the affair passed at Damascus. In what may be called the direct part of the account, no mention is made of the place of his conversion at all; a casual expression at the end, and an expression brought in for a different purpose, alone fixes it to have been at Damascus: ‘I returned again unto Damascus.” Nothing can be more lke simplcity and undesignedness than this is. It also draws the agreement between the two quotations somewhat closer, to observe, that they both state St. Paul to have preached the -gospel immediately upon his call: ‘“‘And straightway he preached Christ in the syna- Actsn9: 20. “ Wher 53 gogues, that he is the Son of God dee inc eeeEPISTDE*2O. TRE“GATATIANS. Ui it pleased God .... to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him among the heathen; immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood.” Galatians 1 : 15. 4. The course of the apostle’s travels after his conver- sion was this: he went from Damascus to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem into Syria and Cilicia. At Damascus, ‘the disciples took him by night, and let him down by the wall in a basket. And when Saul was come to Jerusalem, he assayed to join himself to the disciples.” Acts 9 : 25, 26. Afterwards, ‘‘when the brethren knew” the conspiracy formed against him at Jerusalem, “they brought him down to Cesarea, and sent him forth to Tarsus,” a eity in Cilicia. Ver. 30. In the epistle, St. Paul gives the following brief account of his proceedings within the same period: “ After three years, | went up to Jerusalem to see Peter, and abode with-him fifteen days. Afterwards I came into the regions of Syma and Cilicia.” The history had told us that Paul passed from Cesarea to Tarsus: if he took his journey by land, it would carry him through Syria into Cilicia; and he would come, after his visit at Jerusalem, “into the regions of Syria and Cilicia,’’ in the very order in which he men- tions them in the epistle. This supposition of his going from Cesarea to Tarsus by land, clears up also another pot. It accounts for what St. Paul says in the same place concerning the churches of Judea: ‘‘ Afterwards I came into the regions of Syria and Cilicia; and was unknown by face unto the churches of Judea which were in Christ: but they had heard only, That he which persecuted us in times past, now preacheth the faith which once he destroyed. And they glorified God in me.” Upon which passage I observe, first, that what is here said of the churches of Judea, is spoken in connection with his journey into the regions of Syria and Cilicia. Secondly, that the passage itself has little significancy, and that the connection is inexplicable, unless St. Paul went through Judea—though probably by a hasty journey—at the time that he came into the regions of eT ere ees so Sere ces Pe sre we ee oe ee Se ae ae eee Fe et oe FE Sy BFS “4 eyo s nae wie ECERE +S SGGs hea: ee ee eae ee Pe ee ee eh elMie 92 HORH PAULINA. | i = Whe | Syria and Cilicia.* Suppose him to have passed by land 5 4 from Cesarea to Tarsus, all this, as has been observed, : would be precisely true. E 5. Barnabas was with St. Paul at Antioch. ‘ Then de- : parted Barnabas to Tarsus, for to seek Saul: and when he Hi d | had found him, he brought him unto Antioch. And it came ; es to pass, that a whole year they assembled themselves with ; the church.” Acts 11:25, 26. Again, and upon another : occasion, Paul and Barnabas ‘“‘sailed to Antioch ;” and there they continued a “long time with the disciples.” Chap. 14 : 26. Now, what says the epistle? ‘When Peter was come Se ede a eee ed eed to Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed. And the other Jews dissembled likewise with ce te. et him; msomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their dissimulation.” Chap. 2:11, 13. 6. The stated residence of the apostles was at Jerusalem. gt nae “At that time there was a great persecution against the church which was at Jerusalem; and they were all scat- Fae Paw tered abroad throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, 4 except the apostles.’ Acts 8:1. ‘They,’ the Christians at Antioch, “ determined that Paul and Barnabas, and cer- tain other of them, should go up to Jerusalem unto the apostles and elders about this question.” Acts15:2. With these accounts agrees the declaration in the epistle: ‘“ Nei- ther went I up to Jerusalem to them which were apostles eet telecast ee at ee before me,” chap. 1:17) for this declaration implies, or rather assumes it to be known, that Jerusalem was the place where the apostles were to be met with. 7. There were at Jerusalem two apostles, or at the least, two eminent members of the church, of the name of James. ee ee ee ee Pate Ee eS eh a eS et ee * Dr. Doddridge thought that the Cesarea here mentioned was not | the celebrated city of that name upon the Mediterranean sea, but Ces- area Philippi, near the borders of Syria, which lies in a much more direct line from Jerusalem to Tarsus than the other. The objection eee ee es to this, Dr. Benson remarks, is, that Cesarea, without any addition. usually denotes Cesarea Palestine. © Ucar etpae ca eeEPISTLE TO THE GADATIANS. 95 This is directly inferred from the Acts of the Apostles, which, in the second verse of the twelfth chapter, relates the death of James the brother of John; and yet, in the fifteenth chapter, and in a subsequent part of the history, records a speech delivered by James in the assembly of the apostles and elders. It is also strongly implied by the form of ex- pression used in the epistle: ‘Other apostles saw I none, save James the Lord’s brother ;” that is, to distinguish him from James the brother of John. To us who have been long conversant in the Christian history as contained in the Acts of the Apostles, these points are obvious and familiar; nor do we readily apprehend any greater difhcultyan making them appear in a letter purport- ing to have been written by St. Paul, than there is in intro- ducing them into a modern sermon. But to judge correctly of the argument before us, we must discharge this know- ledge from our thoughts. We must propose to ourselves the situation of an author who sat down to the writing of the epistle without having seen the history, and then the con- currences we have deduced will be deemed of importance. They will at least be taken for separate confirmations of the several facts, and not only of these particular facts, but of the general truth of the history. For what is the rule with respect to corroborative testi- mony which prevails in courts of justice, and which prevails only because experience has proved that it is a useful euide to truth? A principal witness in a cause delivers his ac- count ; his narrative, in certain parts of it, is confirmed by witnesses who are called afterwards. The credit derived from their testimony belongs not only to the particular cir- cumstances in which the auxiliary witnesses agree with the principal witness, but in some measure to the whole of his evidence; because it is improbable that accident or fiction should draw a line which touched upon truth in so many points. In like manner, if two records be produced manifestly Spl e@essSer Zeta es 15 2 See Sse FSIS S ee ee ee a eS ee ee ee eT ed ee ee ee ee pas at a a ee ee eePrt reese pert ed et cee lteter eet eee terete ee Se RE el ioe ee eee Teor eS Oe ed oe ee ee eae ea eee ene Sd ee et ere CE ee ee bi a : ch ek et ee ee ee 94 HORA PAULINA. independent, that is, manifestly written without any partici- pation of intelligence, an agreement between them, even in few and shght circumstances—especially if from the different nature and design of the writings, few points only of agree- ment, and those incidental, could be expected to occur— would add a sensible weight to the authority of both in every part of their contents. The same rule is applicable to history, with at least as much reason as any other species of evidence. III. But although the references to various particulars in the epistle, compared with the direct account of the same particulars in the history, afford a considerable proof of the truth not only of these particulars, but of the narrative which contains them, yet they do not show, it will be said, that the epistle was written by St. Paul; for admitting what seems to have been proved, that the writer, whoever he was, had no recourse to the Acts of the Apostles; yet many of the facts referred to, such as St. Paul’s miraculous conver- sion, his change from a virulent persecutor to an indefati- gable preacher, his labors among the Gentiles, and his zeal for the liberties of the Gentile church, were so notorious as to occur readily to the mind of any Christian who should choose to personate his character and counterfeit his name ; it was only to write what every body knew. Now, I think that this supposition—namely, that the epistle was com- posed upon general information and the general publicity of the facts alluded to, and that the author did no more than weave into his work what the common fame of the Christian church had reported to his ears—is repelled by the particular- ity of the recitals and references. This particularity is ob- servable in the following instances ; in perusing which, I de- sire the reader to reflect, whether they exhibit the language of a man who had nothing but general reputation to proceed upon, or of a man actually speaking of himself and of his own history, and consequently of things concerning which he pos- sessed a clear, intimate, and circumstantial knowledge.EPISTDE TO FRE GABATIANS. 95 1. The history, in giving an account of St. Paul after his conversion, relates, ‘“ that after many days,’ eflecting, by the assistance of the disciples, his escape from Damascus, ‘““he proceeded to Jerusalem,” Acts 9:25. The epistle, speaking of the same period, makes St. Paul say that “he went into Arabia,’ that he returned again to Damascus, and that after three years he went up to Jerusalem. Chap. Se ee 2. The history relates, that when Saul was come from Damascus, he was with the disciples “ coming in and going out.” Acts 9:28. The epistle, describing the same jour- ney, tells us, that he ‘went up to Jerusalem to see Peter, and abode with him fifteen days.” Chap. 1:18. 3. The history relates that when Paul was come to Jeru- salem, ‘‘ Barnabas took him, and brought him to the apos- fess « Acts 9x27 other of the apostles saw he “none, save James the Lord’s brother. Chap! I< 19: Now this is as it should be. - The historian delivers his The epistle, that he saw Peter; but account im general terms, as of facts at which he was not present. The person who is the subject of that account, when he comes to speak of these facts himself, particularizes time, names, and circumstances. 1. The hke notation of places, persons, and dates, is met with in the account of St. Paul’s journey to Jerusalem, given in the second chapter of the epistle. It was fourteen years after his conversion; it was in company with Bar- nabas and Titus; it was then that he met with James, Cephas, and John; it was then also that it was agreed among them that they should go to the circumcision, and he unto the Gentiles. 5. The dispute with Peter, which occupies the sequel of the second chapter, is marked with the same particularity. It was at Antioch ; it was after certain came from James; it was while Barnabas was there, who was carried away by their dissimulation. These examples negative the insinua- S$elennee e378 + ipl oped sae Ga RG ES eee ee ee ee eS oe ee ree eS ee ee To Pe ae) ee en eet Se ee a ee eee ee ee ee ee ee ea eaPeyry Ss ee te ache ease ee toe a eo TS PeP She oo Se eevesetat gowiy pes Care et ee aes Se ah haat ah hick Soci ae a ed ee ae aT ne eee eee ee ee ead 52 ESE Oe rate 96 HORA PAULINA. tion, that the epistle presents nothing but indefinite allusions to public facts. IV. Chap. 4:11-16: “I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labor in vain. _Brethren, I beseech you, be as 1am; for I am as ye are: ye have not injured me at all. Ye know how through infirmity of the flesh I preached the gospel unto you at the first. And my temptation which was in my flesh ye despised not, nor rejected; but received me as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus. Where is then the blessedness ye spake of? for I bear you record, that, if it had been possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have given them unto me. Am I therefore be- come your enemy because I tell you the truth ?” With this passage compare 2 Cor. 12:1-9: “It is not expedient for me doubtless to glory. I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord. I knew aman in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth ;) such a one caught up to-the third heaven. And I knew such a man, (whether in the body, or out of the body, I can- not tell: God knoweth ;) how that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not law- ful for a man to utter. Of such a one will I glory: yet of myself I will not glory, but in mine infirmities. For, though 1 would desire to glory, I shall not be a fool: for I will say the truth : but now I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth me to be, or that he heareth of me. And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me. a thern in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I be- sought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly there- fore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”EPISTLE. 20 PHE. GAGATIANS. 97 There can be no doubt but that “the temptation which was in the flesh,” mentioned in the epistle to the Galatians, and ‘“‘the thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him,’’ mentioned in the epistle to the Corinthians, were in- tended to denote the same thing. Hither therefore it was, what we pretend it to have been, the same person in both, alluding, as the occasion led him, to some bodily infirmity under which he labored—that is, we are reading the real letters of a real apostle ; or it was, that a sophist who had seen the circumstance in one epistle, contrived, for the sake of correspondency, to bring it into another; or, lastly, it was a circumstance in St. Paul’s personal condition, supposed to be well known to those into whose hands the epistle was likely to fall, and for that reason introduced into a writing designed to bear his name. I have extracted the quotations at length, in order to enable the reader to judge accurately of the manner in which the mention of this particular comes in, in each; because that judgment, I think, will acquit the author of the epistle of the charge of having studiously insert- ed it, either with a view of producing’an apparent agreement between them, or for any other purpose whatever. The context, by which the circumstance before us is introduced, is in the two places totally different, and without any mark of imitation ; yet in both places does the cireum- stance rise aptly and naturally out of the context, and that context from the train of thought carried on in the epistle. The epistle to the Galatians, from the beginning to the end, runs in a strain of angry complaint of their defection from the apostle, and from the principles which he had taught them. It was very natural to contrast with this conduct, the zeal with which they had once received him; and it was not less so to mention, as a proof of their former disposition towards him, the indulgence which, while he was among them, they had shown to his infirmity: “ My temp- tation which was in my flesh ye despised not, nor rejected but received me as an angel of (god, even as Christ Jesus. ? : _ (ti enethee Ss ke oe oe ee ed Sh OSE EIT IOT rs ee oe eee eS ee oe ed i ees ee Bac BB be oa ana ean ae ee SPSS ES SES Fee ates eevee eeone eee eae pee ore Pe ee > eeSect te. tee ae tee Te er eer se: PREM SHBES TS? pes leet et ee} ree Tt a ets ae Ae ee Le eS ae es ra RE See ess cee a og eae et ee oe Sot teh ete eta. tee eee) Poe ae 98 HOR PAULINA. Where is then the blessedness ye spake of?” that is, the benedictions which you bestowed upon me; “for I bear you record, that, if it had been possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have given them to me.” In the two epistles to the Corinthians, especially in the second, we have the apostle contending with certain teachers in Corinth, who had formed a party in that church against him. To vindicate his personal authority, as well as the dignity and credit of his ministry among them, he takes occa- sion—but not without apologizing repeatedly for the folly, that is, for the indecorum, of pronouncing his own panegyr- t ic*—to meet his adversaries in their boastings: ‘ Where- insoever any is bold, (I speak foolishly,) Iam bold also. Are they Hebrews? so am I. Are they Israelites? so am I. Are: they the seed of Abraham? soam I. Are they the ministers of Christ ? (I speak as a fool,) Iam more; in labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft.” Being led to the subject, he goes on, as was natural, to recount his trials and dangers, his incessant cares and labors in the Christian mission. From the proofs which he had given of his zeal and activity in the service of Christ, he passes—and that with the same view of establishing his claim to be considered as “ not a whit behind the very chiefest of the apostles’’-—to the visions and revelations which from time to time had been vouchsafed to him. And then, by a close and easy connection, comes in the mention of his infirmity: “ Lest I should be exalted,” says he, ‘above measure through the abundance of the rev- elations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me.” Thus then, in both epistles, the notice of his infirmity is * “ Would to God you would bear with me a little in my folly: and indeed bear with me.”? Chap. 11:1. ‘That which I speak, I speak it not after the Lord, but as it were foolishly, in this confidence of boasting.’? Chap. 11:17. oe | am become a fool in glorying; ye have compelled me.”? Chap. 12eii.EPISTLE £0 THE GALATIANS. 99 suited to the place in which it is found. In the epistle to the Corinthians, the tram of thought draws up to the eir- cumstance by a regular approximation. In this epistle, it is suggested by the subject and occasion of the epistle itself. Which observation we offer as an argument to preve that it is not, in either epistle, a circumstance industriously brought forward for the sake of procuring credit to an imposture. A reader will be taught to perceive the force of this argu- ment, who shall attempt to introduce a gzven circumstance into the body of a writing. To do this without abruptness, or without betraymg marks of design in the trausition, requires, he will find, more art than he expected to be neces- sary, certainly more than any one can believe to have been exercised in the composition of these epistles. V. Chap. 4:29: “ But as then he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the Spint, even so it is now.” Chap. 5:11: “And I, brethren, if I yet preach circum- cision, why do [ yet suffer persecution ? then is the offence of the cross ceased.”’ Chap. 6:17: “From henceforth, let no man trouble me; for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” From these several texts, it is apparent that the perse- cutions which our apostle had undergone, were from the hands or by the instigation of the Jews; that it was not for preaching Christianity in opposition to heathenism, but it was for preaching it as distinct from Judaism, that he had brought upon himself the sufferings which had attended his ministry. And this representation perfectly comcides with that which results from the detail of St. Paul’s history, as delivered in the Acts. At Antioch, in Pisidia, the ‘‘ word of the Lord was published throughout all the region. But the Jews stirred wp the devout and honorable women, and the chief men of the city, and raised persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts.” Acts 13:49, 50. Not long after, at leonium, ‘a great multitude eivgudsage gets Fes P Se fee eee tore oe ee eee ee ee PSP Le se ee eee ee re Eee oe SES Pe eee TE Te es ee ee ee Pe ae gre re ee ee ee ee ee ee ee teos ee ees ee ae Tree. fe Ce ee ed eee es Pose ee eee ee cea ee ee ee ae ere Se it eee eee Sete eae ee et aes So Re Meee ee pee et ee ee et ee EE TT TT 100 HORZ PAULINA. both of the Jews and also of the Greeks believed. But the unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil-aflected against the brethren.” Chap. 14:1, 2. At Lystra ‘there came certain Jews from Antioch and Ico- nium, who persuaded the people, and having stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had been dead.” Chap. 14:19. The same enmity, and from the same quar- ter, our apostle experienced in Greece. At Thessalonica, “some of them,’ the Jews, ‘‘ believed, and consorted with Paul and Silas; and of the devout Greeks a great multitude, and of the chief women not a few. But the Jews which believed not, moved with envy, took unto them certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, and gathered a company, and set all the city in an uproar, and assaulted the house of Jason, and sought to brmg them out tothe people.” Chap. 17:4, 6. Their persecutors follow them to Berea: ‘‘ When the Jews of Thessalonica had knowledge that the word of God was preached of Paul at Berea, they came thither also, and stir- xed up the people.” Chap.17:13. And lastly at Cormth, when Gallio was deputy of Achaia, ‘the Jews made insur- rection with one accord against Paul, and brought him to the judgment-seat.” I think it does not appear that our apostle was ever set upon by the Gentiles, unless they were first stirred up by the Jews, except in two instances; in both which the persons who began the assault were imme- diately interested in his expulsion from the place. Once this happened at Philippi, after the cure of the Pythoness : ‘“ When her masters saw that the hope of their gains was gone, they caught Paul and Silas, and drew them into the market-place, unto the rulers.” Chap. 16:19. - And a sec- ond time at Ephesus, at the instance of Demetrius, a silver- smith, which made silver shrines for Diana; who called together ‘‘ workmen of lke occupation, and said, Sirs, ye know that by this craft we have our wealth. Moreover ye see and hear, that not alone at Ephesus, but almost through- out all Asia, this Paul hath persuaded and turned awayEPIs fais FO THE GARATIANS. 101 much people, saying that they be no gods, which are made with hands; so that not only this our craft 1s in danger to be set at naught, but also that the temple of the great god- dess Diana should be despised, and her magnificence should be destroyed, whom all Asia and the world worshippeth.” VI. I observe an agreement in a somewhat peculiar rule of Christian conduct, as laid down in this epistle, and as ex- emplified in the second epistle to the Corinthians. It is not the repetition of the same general precept, which would have been a coincidence of little value ; but it is the general precept in one place, and the application of that precept to an actual occurrence in the other. In the sixth chapter and first verse of this epistle, our apostle gives the follow- ing direction: ‘“ Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness?"° In 2 Cor 2:6 to such a man’’—the incestuous person mentioned in the —8, he writes thus: ‘“ Sufficient first epistle—‘“is this punishment, which was inflicted of many. So that contrarywise, ye ought rather to forgive him and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swal- lowed up with overmuch sorrow. Wherefore I beseech you that ye would confirm your love toward him.” I have little doubt but that it was the same mind which dictated these two passages. VII. Our epistle goes further than any of St. Paul’s epis- {les ; for it avows in direct terms the supersession of the Jewish law, as an instrument of salvation, even to the Jews themselves. Not only were the Gentiles exempt from this authority, but even the Jews were no longer to place any dependency upon it, or consider themselves as subject to it on a religious account. ‘‘ Before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should after- wards be revealed. Wherefore the law was our schoolmas- ter to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. But after that faith is come, we are no longer under a schoolmaster.” Chap. 3: 23-20, This was undoubtedly Spey lueadcaetgetabsseesssseerer! Se eee eee ee See ee ee es ee SET peer oe ee eT PR ee pe pe eats SL SP SLEH EMEP A TESAWrowL.e.t ee eS ee et ee 8 SP EST ee £0 oe 5 he oS ae SOP Stes Fe Sev etesest een ig ee et Lee Ee ee eee ee es Se nal Nal ce a et a ee et ee ee ee ee ee ee eee eee are 3 Pee eee aoe ré2 HOR PAULINA. spoken of Jews and to Jews. In like manner, chap. 4:1-5: “ Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, though he be lord sof. all; but: as under tutors and governors until the time appomted of the father. Even so we, when we were children, were in bond- age under the elements of the world: but when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.” These passages are nothing short of a declaration, that the obliga- tion of the Jewish law, considered as a religious dispensa- tion, the effects of which were to take place in another life, had ceased with respect even to the Jews themselves. What then should be the conduct of a Jew—for such St. Paul was—who preached this doctrine ? To be consistent with himself, either he would no longer comply, in his own per- son, with the directions of the law; or, if he did comply, it would be for some other reason than any confidence which he placed in its efficacy, as a religious institution. Now so it happens, that whenever St. Paul’s comphance with the Jewish law is mentioned in the history, it is mentioned im connection with circumstances which point out the motive from which it proceeded ; and this motive appears to have been always exoteric, namely, a love of order and tranquil- lity, or an unwillingness to give unnecessary offence. Thus, Acts 16:3: “Him,” Timothy, ‘‘ would Paul have to go forth with him; and took and circumcised him, because of the Jews which were in those quarters.’ Again, Acts 21:26, when Paul consented to exhibit an example of public com- pliance with a Jewish rite by purifying himself in the tem- ple, it is plainly intimated that he did this to satisfy ‘‘ many thousands of Jews who believed, and who were all zealous of the law.” So far the instances related in one book cor- respond with the doctrine delivered in another. VIII: Chap. 1:18: “Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to see Peter, and abode with him fifteen days.”EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. 103 The shortness of St. Paul’s stay at Jerusalem is what I desire the reader to remark. The direct account of the same journey in the Acts, chap. 9:28, determines nothing con- cerning the time of his continuance there: ‘“‘And he was with them,” the apostles, ‘coming in and going out at Jerusa- lem. And he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians; but they went about to slay him. Which when the brethren knew, they brought him down to Cesarea.” Or rather. this account, taken by itself, would lead a reader to suppose that St. Paul’s abode at Jerusalem had been longer than fifteen days. But turn to the twenty-second chapter of the Acts, and you will find a reference to this visit to Jerusalem, which plainly indi- cates that Paul’s continuance in that city had been of short duration: “And it came to pass, that, when I was come again to Jerusalem, even while I prayed in the temple, I was in a trance ; and saw him saying unto me, Make haste, and get thee quickly out of Jerusalem ; for they will not re- ceive thy testimony concerning me.’ Here we have the general terms of one text so explained by a distant text in the same book, as to bring an indeterminate expression into a close conformity with a specificatiou delivered in another book : a species of consistency not, I think, usually found in fabulous relations. IX. Chap. 6:11: ‘Ye see how large a letter 1 have written unto you with mine own hand.” These words imply that he did not always write with his own hand; which is consonant to what we find intima- ted in some other of the epistles. The epistle to the Ro- mans was written by Tertius: “]T Tertius, who wrote this epistle, salute you in the Lord.” Chap. 16: 22. The first epistle to the Corinthians, the epistle to the Colossians, and the second epistle to the hessalonians, have all, near the conclusion, this clause, ‘the salutation of me, Paul, with mine own hand; which must be understood, and is uni- versally understood to import, that the rest of the epistle ae eee tert Teer ee er eee ee ee ee ee Pee ee ee eee ye ee Pee eg ee ee a ee pa ae BP a EO a ak Na a id a ll oe ee ee ee eee eeWOR & PAULIN.2, ‘ : was written by another hand. Ido not think it improbable i that an impostor, who had remarked this subscription m : f some other epistle, should invent the same in a forgery ; | but that is not done here. The author of this epistle does : i | not imitate the manner of giving St. Paul’s siguature; he : ee only bids the Galatians observe how large a letter he had I i written to them with his own hand. He does not say this : | was different from his ordinary usage; this is left to impli- 4 cation. Now, to suppose that this was an artifice to procure credit to an imposture, is to suppose that the author of the forgery, because he knew that others of St. Paul’s were ot written by himself, therefore made the apostle say that this was ; which seems an odd turn to give to the circumstance, and to be given for a purpose which would more naturally PAP SPAS IS oe tevesss ws eons and more directly have been answered by subjoining the $e salutation or signature in the form in which it is found in ye ether epistles.* ed ed Peed X. An exact conformity appears in the manner in which a certain apostle or eminent Christian whose name was James, is spoken of in the epistle and in the history. Both writings refer to a situation of his at Jerusalem, somewhat different from that of the other apostles ; a kind of eminence Leet re eee TTT Te or presidency in the church there, or at least a more fixed and stationary residence: Chap. 2:11, 12. ‘‘ When Peter was at Antioch, .... before that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles.” This text plainly attributes Gi tebe Fa: i. kind of preéminency to James; and, as we hear of him Soot ene twice in the same epistle, dwelling at Jerusalem, chap. 1:19, and 2:9, we must apply it to the situation which he 29e wD Ee held in that church. In the Acts of the Apostles, divers be i The words r7AiKowe ypaypyaow may probably be meant to describe the character in which he wrote, and not the length of the letter. But this will not alter the truth of our observation. I think, however, . that as St. Paul by the mention of his own hand designed to express to the Galatians the great concern which he felt for them, the words, whatever they signify, belong to the whole of the epistle; and not, as Grotius, after St. Jerome, interprets it, to the few verses which follow. ee D epee op ee ee ne te ee hi ies Se SEPISTLE TO THE GADATIANS. 105 intimations occur, conveying the same idea of James’ situ- ation. When Peter was miraculously delivered from prison, and had surprised his friends by his appearance among them, after declaring unto them how the Lord had brought him out of prison, “Go show,” says he, “these things unto James and to the brethren.” Acts 12:17. Here James is manifestly spoken of in terms of distinction. He appears again with like distinction in the twenty-first chapter and the seventeenth and eighteenth verses: “And when we,” Paul and his company, “ were come to Jerusalem, .... the day following Paul went in with us unto James; and all the elders were present.’ In the debate which took place upon the business of the Gentile converts in the council at Jerusalem, this same person seems to have taken the lead. It was he who closed the debate, and proposed the resolu- tion in which the council ultimately concurred: “ Where- fore my sentence is, that we trouble not them which from among the Gentiles are turned to God.” Upon the whole, that there exists a conformity in the expressions used concerning James throughout the history, and in the epistle, is unquestionable. But admitting this conformity, and admitting also the undesignedness of it, what does it prove? It proves that the circumstance itself is founded in truth; that is, that James was a real person, who held a situation of eminence in a real society of Chris- tians at Jerusalem. It confirms also those parts of the nar- rative which are connected with this circumstance. Sup- pose, for instance, the truth of the account of Peter’s escape from prison was to be tried upon the testimony of a witness who, among other things, made Peter, after his deliverance, say, “Go show these things unto James, and to the breth- ren ;’’ would it not be material, in such a trial, to make out by other independent proofs, or by a comparison of proofs, drawn from independent sources, that there was actually at that time living at Jerusalem such a person as James; that this person held such a situation in the society among Hore Paul 20 Tee te et sbi gedecaeegereees re F es 2 ree yeep ee ee ee pee eee ye ree Se ai! * sili aia anil si tein Be BPs SETS LE TES 3 q PLCS we A ees aes PE ee ene ag a aT ee elle PERLE PSR AY eee PEE See =eever ss $F kee seeds det ee ret ster ree :csbcheneaeDeas nn et ee ed ee oe oe ee ed ay Bes Si lhc Hee aaa ee aoe eae ee Sree PP ePiere ssi Seaeee eo pe ¢ z SEGRE SHH eo 106 HORE PAULINA. whom these things were transacted, as to render the words which Peter is said to have used concerning him, proper and natural for him to have used? If this would be pertinent in the discussion of oral testimony, it is still more so in appreciating the credit of remote history. It must not be dissembled that the comparison of our epistle with the history presents some difficulties, or to say the least, some questions of considerable magnitude. It may be doubted, in the first place, to what journey the words which open the second chapter of the epistle, ‘then, four- teen years afterwards, I went to Jerusalem,” relate. That which best corresponds with the date, and that to which most interpreters apply the passage, is the journey of Paul and Barnabas to Jerusalem, when they went thither from Antioch, upon the business of the Gentile converts ; and which journey produced the famous council and decree recorded in the fifteenth chapter of Acts. To me this opin- ion appears to be encumbered with strong objections. In the epistle, Paul tells us that he ‘went up by revelation.” Chap. 2:2. In the Acts, we read that he was sent by the ehurch of Antioch. After no small dissension and disputa- tion, ‘‘ they determined that Paul and Barnabas, and certain other of them, should go up to the apostles and elders about this question.” Acts 15:2. This is not very reconcilable. In the epistle St. Paul writes, that when he came to Jeru- salem, ‘he communicated that gospel which he preached among the Gentiles, but privately to them which were of reputation.” Chap 2:2. If by “that gospel” he meant the immunity of the Gentile Christians from the Jewish law—and I know not what else it can mean—it is not easy to conceive how he should communicate that privately which was the object of his public message. But a yet oreater difficulty remains, namely, that in the account which the epistle gives of what passed upon this visit at Jerusa- lem, no notice is taken of the deliberation and decree which are recorded in the Acts, and which, according to that his- TesEPISTLE 10 THE GALATIANS. 107 tory, formed the business for the sake of which the journey was undertaken. The mention of the council and of its determination, while the apostle was relating his proceed- ings at Jerusalem, could hardly have been avoided, if in truth the narrative belong to the same journey. To me it appears more probable that Paul and Barnabas had taken some journey to Jerusalem, the mention of which is omitted in the Acts. Prior to the apostohe decree, we read that ‘Paul and Barnabas abode at Antioch a long time with the disciples.” Acts 14:28. Is it unlikely, that during this long abode, they might go up to Jerusalem and return to Antioch ? Or would the omission of such a journey be un- suitable to the general brevity with which these memoirs are written, especially of those parts of St. Paul’s history which took place before the historian joined them ? But again, the first account we find in the Acts of the Apostles of St. Paul’s visiting Galatia, is in the sixteenth chapter and the sixth verse: “‘ Now when they had gone through Phrygia and the region of Galatia,.... they assay- ed to go into Bithynia.” The progress here recorded was subsequent to the apostolic decree; therefore that decree must have been extant when our epistle was written. Now, as the professed design of the epistle was to establish the exemption of the Gentile converts from the law of Moses, and as the decree pronounced and confirmed that exemption, it may seem extraordinary that no notice whatever is taken of that determination, nor any ay peal made to its authority. Much, however, of the weight of this objection, which ap- plies also to some other of St. Paul’s epistles, is removed by the following reflections. 1. It was not St. Paul’s manner, nor agreeable to it, to resort or defer much to the authority of the other apostles, especially while he was insisting, as he does strenuously throughout this epistle insist, upon his own original inspira- tion. He who could speak of the very chiefest of the apos- tles in such terms as the following—‘“ of those who seemed Rate = ~ ecient ee ie ee oe | err ee. Pee er ee es ie a ee ee i oe De RAEREREE SSS 56 PORES ET eee Beet Be SeeeSsges eae ke ee et te ed ee ee re ee eea ed Cee ta etecee eee eo Pe eserere lenges hepa es eae ee Sek od. aw Soe ee et ee eS Oe ae te eee ee ee ee re oe eee Seek ss ee Terr rT eee Tr oF 108 HORE PAULINA. to be somewhat, (whatsoever they were it maketh no matter to me, God accepteth no man’s person,) for they who seemed to be somewhat in conference added nothing to me”—he, I say, was not likely to support himself by their decision. 2. The epistle argues the point upon principle; and it is not perhaps more to be wondered at, that in such an argu- ment St. Paul should not cite the apostolic decree, than it would be that in a discourse designed to prove the moral and religious duty of observing the Sabbath, the writer should not quote the thirteenth canon. 3. The decree did not go the length of the position maintained in the epistle ; the decree only declares that the apostles and elders at Jerusalem did not impose the obser- vance of the Mosaic law upon the Gentile converts, as a condition of their being admitted into the Christian church. Our epistle argues that the Mosaic institution itself was at an end, as to all effects upon a future state, even with re- spect to the Jews themselves. 4. They whose error St. Paul combated were not per- sons who submitted to the Jewish law because it was im- posed by the authority, or because it was made part of the law of the Christian church; but they were persons who, having already become Christians, afterwards voluntarily took upon themselves the observance of the Mosaic code, under.a notion of attaining thereby to a greater perfection. This, I think, is precisely the opinion which St. Paul opposes in this epistle. Many of his expressions apply exactly to if! “ Aye ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now “Tellme, ye »?? that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law? made perfect by the flesh?” Chap. 3:3. Chap. 4:21. “How tum ye again to the weak and beg- garly elements, whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage ?” Chap. 4: 9. Paul should resist this opinion with earnestness ; for 1t both It cannot be thought extraordinary that St. changed the character of the Christian dispensation, and derogated expressly from the completeness of that redemp- ee hr eeEPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. 109 tion which Jesus Christ had wrought for them that believed in him. But it was to no purpose to allege to such persons the decision at Jerusalem, for that only showed that they were not bound to these observances by any law of the Christian church; they did not pretend to be so bound: nevertheless, they imagined that there was an efficacy in these observances, a merit, a recommendation to favor, and a ground of acceptance with God for those who complied with them. This was a situation of thought to which the tenor of the decree did not apply. Accordingly, St. Paul’s address to the Galatians, which is throughout adapted to this situation, runs in a strain widely different from the lan- guage of the decree: “Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law,” chap. 5:4; that is, whosoever places his dependence upon any merit he may apprehend there is in legal observances. The decree had said nothing like this; therefore it would have been useless to produce the decree in an argument of which this was the burden. In hke manner as in contending with an anchorite, who should msist upon the superior holiness of a recluse, ascetic life, and the value of such mortifications in the sight of God, it would be to no purpose to prove that the laws of the church did not require these vows, or even to prove that the laws of the church expressly left every Christian to his liberty. This would avail little towards abating his estimation of their merit, or towards settling the point in controversy.* * Mr. Locke’s solution of this difficulty is by no means satisfactory. ‘St. Paul,” he says, “‘did not remind the Galatians of the apostolic decree, because they already had it.’’ In the first place, it does not appear with any certainty that they had it; in the second place, if they had it, this was rather a reason than otherwise for referring them to it. The passage in the Acts from which Mr. Locke concludes that the Galatic churches were in possession of the decree, is the fourth verse of the sixteenth chapter: “‘ And as they,’’? Paul and Timothy, ‘‘ went through the cities, they delivered them the decrees for to keep, that were ordained of the apostles and elders which were at Jerusa- Perret se 2 re Se iggwsse pegs teed Tse feseoee te ee eee ee ee ee eee eae he ee ee ee ee ee ee ee as ae eee eae ter etree ee ee ye eee ee ee bees OP Rane ee SSSelise. et tt ee ee oa ee cae ete Sete iFehsePerocecenss si pagevie s< ee eS pons Cet ne Bre ae ee Ee de ete De he ae a ee ee Peers 110 HORA PAULINE. Another difficulty arises from the account of Peter’s con- duct towards the Gentile converts at Antioch, as given in the epistle, in the latter part of the second chapter ; which conduct, it is said, is consistent neither with the revelation lem.’? In my opinion, this delivery of the decree was confined to the churches to which St. Paul came, in pursuance of the plan upon which he set out, ‘‘ of visiting the brethren in every city where he had preach- ed the word of the Lord;” the history of which progress, and of all that pertained to it, is closed in the fifth verse, when the history in- forms us that ‘‘so were the churches established in the faith, and in- creased in number daily.’’ Then the history proceeds upon a new section of the narrative, by telling us that ‘‘ when they had gone throughout Phrygia and the region of Galatia, they assayed to go into Bithynia.”? The decree itself is directed to ‘‘the brethren which are of the Gentiles in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia ;’’ that is, to churches already founded, and in which this question had been stirred. And I think the observation of the noble author of the Miscellanea Sacra is not only ingenious but highly probable, namely, that there is in this place a dislocation of the text, and that the fourth and fifth verses of the sixteenth chapter ought to follow the last verse of the fifteenth, so as to make the entire passage run thus: ‘‘ And they went through Syria and Cilicia,’’ to the Christians of which country the decree was addressed, ‘‘confirming the churches; and as they went through the cities, they delivered them the decrees for to keep, that were ordained of the apostles and elders which were at Jerusalem; and so were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily.” And then the sixteenth chapter takes up a new and unbroken para~ graph: ‘‘Then came he to Derbe and Lystra,’’ etc. When St. Paul came, as he did into Galatia, to preach the gospel, for the first time, in a new place, it is not probable that he would make mention of the decree, or rather letter, of the church of Jerusalem, which presupposed Christianity to be known, and which related to certain doubts that had risen in some established Christian communities. The second reason which Mr. Locke assigns for the omission of the decree, namely, that ‘“‘St. Paul’s sole object in the epistle was to acquit himself of the imputation that had been charged upon him of actually preaching circumcision,’’ does not appear to me to be strictly true. It was not the sole object. The epistle is written in general opposition to the Judaizing inclination which he found to prevail among his converts. The avowal of his own doctrine, and of his steadfast adherence to that doctrine, formed a necessary part of the design of his letter, but was not the whole of it. ere ra eeEPISTLE 10: THE GALATIANS. Li communicated to him upon the conversion of Cornelius, nor with the part he took in the debate at Jerusalem. But, in order to understand either the difficulty or the solution, it will be necessary to state and explain the passage itself. ‘When Peter was come to Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed. For, before that cer- tain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles: but when they were come, he withdrew, and separated himself, fearing them which were of the circumcision. And the other Jews dissembled likewise with him; insomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their dissimulation. But when I saw that they walked not uprightly according to the truth of the gospel, I said unto Peter before them all, If thou, being a Jew, livest after the manner of Gentiles, and not as do the Jews, why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews?” Now the question that produced the dispute to which these words relate, was not whether the Gentiles were capable of being admitted into the Chris- tian covenant; that had been fully settled: nor was it whether it should be accounted essential to the profession of Christianity that they should conform themselves to the law of Moses; that was the question at Jerusalem: but it was, whether, upon the Gentiles becoming Christians, the Jews might henceforth eat and drink with them, as with their own brethren. Upon this point St. Peter betrayed some in- constancy ; and so he might, agreeably enough to his history. He might consider the vision at Joppa as a direction for the occasion, rather than as universally abolishing the distinc- tion between Jew and Gentile; I do not mean with respect to final acceptance with God, but as to the manner of their living together in society : at least, he might not have com- prehended this point with such clearness and certainty, as to stand out upon it against the fear of bringing upon him- self the censure and complaint of his brethren in the church of Jerusalem, who still adhered to their ancient prejudices. But Peter, it is said, compelled the Gentiles—idudagew. “Why eee tect oe ek eres es eee tee eer es Soe re re ee ee eee ce 2 ee rey 43 Se bees eet ad ic ganaahaer ee ee ee ee a ee eke ee ee ee eePep Oe ee es i ST RPA peor eg ed is Ce pe SS ake ee ee ee etenak ey Pee nil ale ate a el Se oe sees eee Et ne eed Ce a he ee eee oe a ae 112 HORG PAULINA. compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews?” How did he do that? ‘The only way in which Peter appears to have compelled the Gentiles to comply with the Jewish institution, was by withdrawing himself from their society. By which he may be understood to have made this declara- tion: “We do not deny your nght to be considered as Christians ; we do not deny your title in the promises of the gospel, even without compliance with our law; but if you would have us Jews live with you as we do with one another, that is, if you would in all respects be treated by us as Jews, you must live as such yourselves.” This, I think, was the compulsion which St. Peter’s conduct im- posed upon the Gentiles, and for which St. Paul reproved him. As to the part which the historian ascribes to St. Peter in the debate at Jerusalem, besides that it was a different question which was there agitated from that which pro- duced the dispute at Antioch, there is nothing to hinder us from supposing that the dispute at Antioch was prior to the consultation at Jerusalem ; or that Peter, in consequence of this rebuke, might have afterwards maintained firmer sentiments.EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. OH Ae Peri Ve THE EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. I. Tuts epistle, and the epistle to the Colossians, appear to have been transmitted to their respective churches by the Same messenger: ‘“ But that ye also may know my afiairs, and how I do, Tychicus, a beloved brother and faithful min- ister in the Lord, shall make known to you all things; whom I have sent unto you for the same purpose, that ye might know our aflairs, and that he might comfort your hearts.” Ephes. 6:21, 22. This text, if it do not expressly declare, clearly I think intimates, that the letter was sent by Tychi- cus.. The words made use of by him in the epistle to the Colossians are very similar to these, and afford the same implication that Tychicus, in conjunction with Onesimus, was the bearer of the letter to that church: “ Al] my state shall Tychicus declare unto you, who is a beloved brother, and a faithful minister and fellow-servant in the Lord ; whom I have sent unto you for the same purpose, that he might know your estate, and comfort your hearts; with Onesimus, a faithful and beloved brother, who is one of you. They shall make known unto you all things which are done here?” = Cok 429290 Both epistles represent the writer as under imprisonment for the gospel; and both treat of the same general subject. The epistle therefore to the Ephe- sians, and the epistle to the Colossians, import to be two letters written by the same person, at or nearly at the same time, and upon the same subject, and to have been sent by the same messenger. Now every thing in the sentiments, order, and diction of the two writings, corresponds with what might be expected from this circumstance of identity or cog- nation in their origmal. The leading doctrine of both epis- tles is the union of Jews and Gentiles under the Christian dispensation ; and that doctrine in both is established by the 20* Pete ee a ee el eepdsa ee Sete eS 3 i eo ee ead A> teTeee re Te Se eee T TS: ee ee er ee I ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee OFS OP oRA HERR Pee ETS SE ESSGomensenke St ee ee = Steril ee fee ee tk ee oe ee ees tteer tae She Ee et ss See tes. Pe eee ee Stet Rete SPEER eee Lao) : 114 HOR PAULINA. same arguments, or more properly speaking, illustrated by the same similitudes :* “one head,” ‘‘one body,” ‘‘ one new man,” “one temple,’ are in both epistles the figures under which the society of believers in Christ, and their common relation to him as such, are represented.| The ancient, and, as had been thought, the indelible distinction between Jew and Gentile, in both epistles, is declared to be ‘‘now abol- ished by his cross.’’ Besides this consent in the general tenor of the two epistles, and in the run also and warmth of thought with which they are composed, we may naturally expect, in letters produced under the circumstances in which these appear to have been written, a closer resemblance of style and diction, than between other letters of the same person but of distant dates, or between letters adapted to dif- ferent occasions. In particular, we may look for many of the same expressions, and sometimes for whole sentences being alike ; since such expressions and sentences would be repeated in the second letter—whichever that was—as yet fresh in the author’s mind from the writing of the first. This repetition occurs in the following examples :} * St. Paul, Iam apt to believe, has been sometimes accused of inconclusive reasoning, by our mistaking that for reasoning which was only intended for illustration. He is not to be read as a man whose own persuasion of the truth of what he taught always or solely de- pended upon the views under which he represents it in his writings. Taking for granted the certainty of his doctrine, as resting upon the revelation that had been imparted to him, he exhibits it frequently to the conception of his readers under images and allegories, in which, if an analogy may be perceived, or even sometimes a poetic resem- blance be found, it is all] perhaps that is required. a hes. L=22 | ( Colos. 1:18. + Compare ; 45 with = 19; ae \ 3:10, 11. ( E:phes. 2: 14, 15 i ( Colos. 2: 14. Also - is 16 with 1: 18-21. 2:20 \ | 27, { When verbal comparisons are relied upon, it becomes necessary to state the original; but that the English reader may be interrupted as little as may be, I shall in general do this in the notes. eur eeeEPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. EES Ephes. 1:7: “In whom we have redemption through his blood, c era of sins.”’* Colos. 1:14: “In whom we have redemption through his bleod, forgiveness of sins.’’+ Besides the sameness of the words, it is further remark- able that the sentence is in both places preceded by the same introductory idea. In the epistle to the Ephesians, it is the ‘‘ Beloved,” nyarnuévy ; In that to the Colossians, it is ‘“‘his dear Son,” vios tHe ayarncg abtod, “In whom we have redemption,’ The sentence appears to have been suggested to the mind of the writer by the idea which had accompa- nied it before. Hphes. 110 tan things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth ; even in him.’’t Colosweks 120): 4A things by him, whether they be things in earth, or things in heaven.’’§ This quotation is the more ob servable, because the con- necting of things in earth with things in heaven is a very singular sentiment, and found nowhere else but in these two epistles. The words also are introduced by deseribing the union which Christ had effected, and they are followed by telling the Gentile churches that they were incorporated into it. Ephes. 3:2: “The dispensation of the grace of God, which is given me to you-ward.”’|| Colos. 1:25: “The dispensation of God, which is given to me for you.” J Of these sentences it may likewise be observed, that the Ephes. 1:7: ’Ev © éyouev ry arodttpwow did tot aipatocg avTou, THY “ageow TOY TapanTwo"aTur. 1 | Colos. 1:14: ’Ev © éyouev rHv dxodbtpwoww 61d Tod aimatocg abtov, T7v "agecw ToV duaptiov. However, it must be observed, that in this latter text many copies have not 01d Tod aluatoe abrod. { Ephes. 1:10: Ta te év roi¢ obpavotc nde ra ént Tipe yn¢, év abro. § Colos. 1:20: A? aizod cite ta ext THe yi, eire Ta Ev Tole obpavoic. ~~ fs > f 2 Ephes. 3:2: Tv oixovouiay yapitoc Tod Oeod THe dovétone jot éi¢ bude. ar Colos. 1:25 - Tv OLKOVOMLAV TOU Ocov, THY dovEtoav LOL ELC bude. : p , eet i eer ee eee eT Tee es oa F See PCr eT eT ee eer seers eee eee eee et Te eee eee: oid Ahineheere=totebepeeee : ‘ 4 5 , , i st Bn Sisk e eae pee ee ee ee re es ee Se ee ae pe Poe ae 2 eeP eet eee ee eee. ee eee — Ea PLP LVRS SSS et eyeset es gseiy ee oe on Be 3 ad Ce at ee ie a es ees eee = eer tests arsrey sis 2caee eer es PSR o4 116 HORZ PAULINA. accompanying ideas are similar. In both places, they are immediately preceded by the mention of his present sufler- ings; in both places, they are immediately followed by the mention of the mystery which was the great subject of his preaching. Ephes. 5:19: “In psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord.’’* Colos. 3:16: “In psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the ord."+ Ephes. 6:22: “ Whom I have sent unto you for the same purpose, that ye might know our affairs, and that he might comfort your hearts.” } Colos. 4:8: ‘‘ Whom I have sent unto you for the same purpose, that he might know your estate, and comfort your hearts.’’§ In these examples, we do not perceive a cento of phrases gathered from one composition, and strung together m the other, but the occasional occurrence of the same expression to a mind a second time revolving the same ideas. 2. Whoever writes two letters, or two discourses, nearly upon the same subject, and at no great distance of time, but without any express recollection of what he had written before, will find himself repeating some sentences in the very order of the words in which he had already used them ; but he will more frequently find himself employing some principal terms, with the order inadvertently changed, or with the order disturbed by the intermixture of other words and phrases expressive of ideas rising up at the time; or in * Ephes. 5:19: Yadoic¢ kde tuvoic, Kae odate mvevuatixaic *adovrTeg Kat Waddovtec év TH Kapdia budy TH Kuply. + Colos 3:16: Vaduoic ka POI ICA Sore mer mpc. bay Ata AT j Volos, 3: : Vahmoic Kat vuvolg Kat WOai¢g TMVEVpMATLKALC, EV YaplTe ‘adovteg év TH Kapdia tuOVv TW Kupiy. t Ephes. 6:22: ‘Ov éreupa mpodc tude ei¢ avTd TovTO, iva yore TA TEpl HUGV, KAL TapaKaréon Tac Kapdiag buor. § Colos. 4:8: “Ov éreupa mpoc tude ei¢ avtTd TovTO, iva yvate Ta TEpt budv, Kd TapaKkaréon TAG Kapdiag Luar. eer ara eesEPISTLE TO' THE EPHESIANS. 117 many instances repeating not single words, nor yet. whole sentences, but parts and fragments of sentences. Of all these varieties the examination of our two epistles will furnish plain examples ; and I should rely upon this class of instan- ces more than upon the last, because, although an impostor might transcribe into a forgery entire sentences and phrases, yet the dislocation of words, the partial recollection of phrases and sentences, the intermixture of new terms and new ideas with terms and ideas before used, which will appear in the examples that follow, and which are the natural properties of writings produced under the circumstances in which these epistles are represented to have been composed—would not, I think, have occurred to the invention of a forger; nor, if they had occurred, would they have been so easily executed. This studied variation was a refinement in forgery which I believe did not exist ; or, if we can suppose it to have been practised in the instances adduced below, why, it may be asked, was not the same art exercised upon those which we have collected in the preceding class? Ephes. 1:19 to 2:5: “To us-ward who believe, accord- ing to the working of his mighty power, which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, (and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might, ane ao and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come. And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.) And you hath tie quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; (wherein in times past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of diso- bedience : among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in merey, for eat prereres srs 2 eae Fs eer er ree te eee ee eee ee ee ee oe a Pe ee oe ee ee eae ee ee bork eonabiwocees &ROaeeSeess ee ee ere ee er a Bex SLE PERL ERR Seweere PePoReGerwcesanas g ee ae ee ee eee ae iA em ey: Sed 2 BY ee eae hee eo * 7 = . 3 PHS OME Ae Lees Pagers ssi Aeee we ae tet Ree fb e se eS Bek eo et ek ee el ee oe ete * 118 HORA PAULINA. his great love wherewith he loved us,) even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ.’’* Colos. 2:12, 13: “Through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead: and you, being dead in your sins and the uncircumcision of your flesh, hath he quickened together with him.”’+ Out of the long quotation from the Ephesians take away the parentheses, and you have left a sentence almost in terms the same as the short quotation from the Colossians. The resemblance is more visible in the original than in our trans- lation ; for what is rendered in one place, ‘‘ the working,” and in another the “operation,” 1s the same Greek term évepyeia: in one place it 18; rote miorévovtac KaTa THY évépyetar ; in the other, sa tie wiotewe the évepyetac. Here, therefore, we have the same sentiment, and nearly in the same words ; but, in the Ephesians, twice broken or interrupted by incidental thoughts, which St. Paul, as his manner was, enlarges upon by the way,t and then returns to the thread of his discourse. It is interrupted the first time by a view which breaks in upon his mind of the exaltation of Christ; and the second time by a description of heathen depravity. I have only-to remark that Griesbach, in his very accurate edition, gives the parentheses very nearly m the same manner in which they are here placed; and that without any respect to the comparison which we are proposing. Ephes. 4: 2-4: ‘“ With all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There * Ephes. 1:19, 20; 2:1, 5: Tod¢ miotetovtag kata tHy évépyetav Tov Kpatove THe iaxtoc adtod, Hv éevnpynoev Ev TH Xplor, eyeipac avTov éx vexpar, Kat Exadioev év degia adtod év Toig érovpaviolg—Kal Dud¢ OvTag véKpoug Toi¢ TapanTGpaor Kat Taig auaptiaie—KdL OvTag uae véxpovg ToI¢ maparTouaol, ovve(woroinae TO XpioTy. t Colos. 2:12, 13: Ard tao mioTéwe THE evepyétacg Tov Beoi Tov éyet- pavrog auTov éx TOV vEeKpOv. Kaz tyuac véxpoug ovtag év Toig TapanTapaot Kal TH GkpoBvoTtia THE Capkds buGY, ovvEfworolycE OV ALTO. t Vide Locke in Joe. Ear Lr resEPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. FE9 is one body and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling.’’* Colos. 3: 12-15: “ Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering, forbe aring one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye. And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfect- ness ; and let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body.”’+ In these two quotations, the words ramewodpoctvn, mpadorne, feakpoduuia, avexouevot dAAFAwY, OCCUY eX cactly in the same order: ayarn 18 also found in both, but in a different connection ; OUVOE ‘OLoG THC Elpyvnc ANSWers tO civdecuoc THe TERELOT? Toc: ékAn3nte 1S IFES YS i$ / LUT év évi gapate to & cdua Kadd¢ nde &xAPIyTEe ev jug éAridt: yet 18 this similitude found in the midst of sentences otherwise very different. Ephes. 4 : 16 together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, “From whom the whole body fitly joined according to the effectual a in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body Colos, 2.19 bands having nourishment ministered and knit together, in- “From which el ie body by ve and creaseth with the increase of God.’’§ Ephes. 4: 2-4: Mera maone taretvodpootyvy¢ Kau TPQOTHTOC, wETa a 22, Be iene eS aan a paxpodvpiac, ave XOpeE vot GAAndav tv ayarn: oxovdalovtec THpEtv THY év6- THTA TOV TVEVILATOG év TO ovveé Ow THC ElpyvaAC. “Ev o@ua Kat év TVEVUA, Ka O¢ Kal ExAHoHTE Ev pd EAridt THE KAnGEWS tudor. T Colos. 3: 12-15: ’Evdtcacde ov ag éxAextol tov Oeod, Gytor Kd YATHUEVOL, OTAAYXVA OLKTIPUGV, XpnotoryTAa, TarELvodpocbvyy, TpabTyTA, wakpoduutav* avexouevot GAAHAOV, Kat Yaplt Souevol EavTore, av Tic TPOC TWA éyn woudnv: Kadac¢ Kat 0 Xploto¢ éyapioaro & LLY, OUTW Kat Duets Ext TaOL “of &4 2 : : a ; de ToUTOLE THY ayaniy, HTI¢ éoTl civdEecuoc THe TEAELOTHTOG* Kat ElpHYvn Tod Ocod BpaBevétw év Tai¢ kapdiate tudr, Eig Hv Kat ExAHOHTE bv Evi odmaru. { ‘Epes. 4167 “He Ov TaV TO OOUA,-ovvapwohoyovupevov KaL ouu3t- Batouevov dla Tma0n¢G Gone THS emLyopynylac Kat’ évépyetav év péTpw évdc EKAOTOV [éOUC, TV avsyol TOV GGpuaTog ToLétTaL. § Colos. 2:19: ’E& ob may 76 oapa, dia TOV dddv Kat ovvdéopwr ETLYOpNYOvpEvoy KML ovuPiBaouevor, avget THV avsjow Tov Oeov. Tre rs se eel ES ert eet Pose ee er ee ce ae ee ee aad ee Ee ee et ee f is 3 3 Sat honeesse sede badaatee Be ete eae ee pe i ere eePEP Pes Ses SFP Rep ee be oes Rca eee eit. eet et ed te ee ee [oe a ee ee Peer a ee 3 ao ed Pad ee ee ae es SO See Se HPs 120 HOR PAU GIN AS. In these quotations are read 2 od nav 7d ciua cup iBatouevov in both places, ETLYOPNYOV[LEVOV answering to émiyopnytac, 01a TOY dgav to dia naone ad7nc, abgec THY absgow tO roLetTat THY adsHoL : and yet the sentences are considerably diversified in other parts. Ephes. 4:32: ‘And be kind one to another, tender- hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’’* Colos. 3:13: ‘“‘ Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.” + Here we have “forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake,” év Xpior6, ‘‘ hath forgiven you,” in the first quotation, substantially repeated in the second. But in the second the sentence is broken by the interposition of a new clause, ‘“‘if any man have a quarrel against any ;” and the latter part is a little varied: instead of “God in Christ,” it is ‘‘ Christ hath forgiven you.”’ Ephes. 4: 22-24: ‘‘ That ye put off concerning the for- mer conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; and be renewed in the spirit of your mind ; and that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.’’$ Colos. 3:9, 10: ‘Seeing that ye have put off the old man with his deeds; and have put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that cre- ated him.’’§ * Ephes. 4:32: Tiveode d& é¢ aAAndove ypnorot, evonAayxvot, yapl- Couevor EavToic, Kata Ka 6 OEd¢ év XpioT@ éxapioaro bir. tT Colos. 3:13: ’Aveyouevor dAAnAwrv, Kat Yapopevor EavTote, Eay TiC Tpog Tiva EX Loudrv: KaIO¢ Kat 6 Xptoro¢ éEYapioaro wyiv, oitw Kae buete. { Ephes. 4: 22-24: "Ano¥éoda bude kata THY TpoTepav avaoTpog HV Tov Tadaiov avdpwerov Tov PdEpouevoy Kata Tag ExuSvuiacg THe anaTnE* avaveotota dé TH TrévuaTe Tov vod¢g buov, Kat éEvdtoacda TOY KaLvov avdpurov, TOV KaTa Oedv KTioSEvTa Ev OtKALOCvVH KdL OoLOTHTL THE aAn- VELAC. § Colos. 3:9, 10: ’Amexdvoduevas Tov radatdy *avdpwrov ody Tai¢ mpaseow avtov: kal évdvoamevol TOV véor, TOV avakawvobpevon ele ExlyvwoL KaT ELKOVa TOD KTLOaVTOC GUTOP. ar ore reyEPISTLE TQ LBE EPHESIANS. ted Aw In these quotations, ‘ putting off the old man, and put- ting on the new,” appears in both. The idea is further ex- plained by calling it a renewal : in the one, ‘‘ renewed in the spirit of your mind ;”’ in the other, ‘‘ renewed in knowledge.” In both, the new man is said to be -formed according to the same model: in the one, he is after God “ created in right- eousness and true holiness ;” in the other, he is renewed “after the image of him that created him.” In a word, it is the same person writing upon a kindred subject, with the terms and ideas which he had before employed still floating in his memory.* Ephes. 5: 6-8: ‘“ Because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye therefore partakers with them. For ye were sometime darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord : walk as children of light.”’} Colos. 3:6-8: “ or which things’ sake the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience: in the which ye also walked some time when ye lived in them. But now ye also put off all these.’’¢ These verses aflord a specimen of that partial resem- blance which is only to be met with when no imitation is designed, when no studied recollection is employed, but when the mind, exercised upon the same subject, is left to the spontaneous return of such terms and phrases as, having been used before, may happen to present themselves again. * In these comparisons we often perceive the reason why the writer, though expressing the same idea, uses a different term; namely, because the term before used is employed in the sentence under a dif- ferent form: thus, in the quotations under our eye, the new man is Katvo¢ “avdpwro¢ in the Ephesians, and rév véov in the Colossians; but then it is because Tov Kawwov is used in the next word, évaxatvévuevor. {| Ephes. 5: 6-8: Ava raita ydp épxerat 7 dpyn Tov Oecd ext Tove viove TH¢ amewWetiac. My ody yiverde ovupétoxor duTOv. “Hre yap more oKoToC, viv dé Pa¢ év Kupiw: we TEKVA dwTd¢ TEpiTaTEiTe. f Colos. 3: 6-8: Av ad épyera 4 Opyn Tov Osod Ext Tove viove TIE amevdetac’ év oi¢ Kae byueig TEplenaTHoaté TOTe, OTE eLpte év adtoic. Nuvi dé aroveote Kat dueic TA TaVTA, PT eT te Ss ee eee ee eS Cee ee es To eee ay ee en Pe ee ae | ee Oe pis Se Pe SS ae a Se ee ee eeDed Pee = eee eae od eet os teehee et ee ee Pe eee eh tee he Se ee alk Sete Se ee ee ee ee ee ae eee eee he eee eee ee oe 122 HORA PAULINA. The sentiment of both passages is throughout alike: half of that sentiment, the denunciation of God’s wrath, is ex- pressed in identical words; the other half, namely, the admonition to quit their former conversation, in words en- tirely different. Ephes. 5:15, 16: ‘See then that ye walk circumspect- ly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time.’* Colos. 4:5: “ Walk in wisdom toward them that are without, redeeming the time.’ This is another example of that mixture which we re- marked of sameness and variety in the language of one writer. ss tedeeming the time,” éEayopatouevor TOV Kalpor, is a literal repetition. ‘ Walk not as fools, but as wise,” zepurareite mij &¢ doogot, G22’ Ge codot, aNSWers exactly in sense, and nearly in terms, to“ walk.im wisdom,” év oodia mepimarelte. Ilepurateite axpiBac 18 a very different phrase, but 1s intended to convey precisely the same idea as mepirateite Toc TodG Ew. *AKpLBwc¢ is not well rendered ‘“‘ cireumspectly.” It means what in mod- ern speech we should call ‘ correctly ;’’ and when we advise clven a person to behave “correctly,” our advice is always g 1 Q. wre with a reference “to the opinion of others,” zpd¢ rode é «Walk correctly, redeeming the time,” that is, suiting your- selves to the difficulty and ticklishness of the times in which we live, ‘‘ because the days are evil.” Ephes. 6:19, 20: “And” praying “for me, that utter- ance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in bonds: that therem I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak.’’} Colos. 4:3, 4. “ Withal praying also for us, that God * Ephes. 5:15, 16: Baézere obv nie axpiBG¢ mepimateite: uy O¢ acogot, GAN we codol, éSayopafouevot TOV KaLpov. + Colos. 4:5: ’Ev codia mepurateite mpd¢ Ttode &w, TOV Kalpov éFayo- PACoOMEeMOe. t Ephes. 6:19, 20: Kae dmép éuod, iva por dodéty Adyog év avorger Tov oTouatoc wou év Tappnota, yrwpioa Td pvaTHplov Tod evayyédiov, drép ov mpecBévw év GAvoel, iva év ato rappynoidowpa, w¢ dei we AaAjoaL. pass or reEPISTLE £0 THE EPHESIANS: 123 would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds: that I may make it manifest, as 1 ought to speak.’’* In these quotations, the phrase, “as I ought to speak,” O¢ det we Aadjoa, the words “ utterance,” Aéyoc, a ‘ mystery,” Eworipiov, “open,” dvoitm and éy dvolfe, are the same. “To make known the mystery of the gospel,” yrwpicat to pvorhpuor, answers to ‘make it manifest,” iva davepdow dvr6; “‘ for which I am an ambassador in bonds,” émep ob xpecBebw év dAboes, to ‘for which I am also in bonds,” 6i 6 Kae dédewat, Ephes. 5: 22-33; 6:1-9: “ Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the hus- band is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the Saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave him- self for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself. For no man ever yet hated his own flesh ; but nourisheth and cher- isheth 1t, even as the Lord the church : for we are members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless, let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband. Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother, * Colos. 4:3, 4: Hpocevyomevor Gua Kae rept nudv, iva 6 O&d¢ avosn juiv Sopav TOV Aoyov, Aahijoat TO pvoTHpLoY TO’ Xprotod, dv’ O Kae dédEuat, iva davepoow avTo, a¢ dé pe AaAqOAL. eee ee Te ee Uae a ee. eed ee eee ee re ee ee a ee ee. ee a ee al Joe Ges 8 yes Pe eS et er a ee er ee a ee eee ee se te ee ee Se ee eee a ee ettit tS eb eee ee ee fey eek ee St ke ee ee ee ee tt ea) dint cc ee ee ae ee ee ee ee ed ee eee ene ay eee ts te tee eee ee ae dee oe are Y- 124 HORH PAULINA. (which is the first commandment with promise,) that it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth. And ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath : but bring them up in the nurture and_admonition of the Lord. Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters accord- ing to the flesh, with fear and trembling, im singleness of your heart, as unto-Christ : not with eye-service, as men- pleasers ; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart ; with good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men: knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free. And, ye masters, do the same things unto them, forbearing threatening : knowing that your Master also vs in heaven ; neither is there respect of persons with him.”* Colos. 3:18:+ ‘“ Wives, submit yourselves unto your Ephes. 5:22: Al yuvaixec, tol¢ idsou avopacow broracceote, wl T@ Kupio. + Colos. 3:18: Al yuvaixec, trotacceoGe Toi¢ idiow dvdpiow, w¢ ‘avikev év Kupio. Ephes. 5:25: O/ “avdpec, “yanaTe TAC yuvaiKag EavTov. Colos. 3:19: Oi *avdpec, dyamate Tag yuvaikac. Ephes. 6:1: Ta réxva, braxovere Tolg yovevow ipov év Kupios TovTo yap éort dikatov. Colos. 3:20: Ta téxva, bmaxovere Tol¢ yovstow KaTa TaVTA* TOVTO yap gor ebdpectov TO Kupiv. Ephes. 6:4: Kade of marépec, U7 mapopytce Colos. 3:21: Ol marépec, 7 Epevicere EX 7 5-8: Of dotAor, braKobveTe Tog KUpio”g KATA CAapKa pETa TE TA TEKVA VOY. L TEKVA DUOV. Ephes. 6: @6Bov Kae TpOuov, Ev drAOTHTL TIS Kapoiac buGv, @¢ TO XpoTO* py Kar’ jb 9arpodovarsiar, 6¢ avSporapeokol, GAN ¢ dovdot TOV Xptorov, ToLovvTEt TO DéAnUA TOD Oeod éx wv VIC? ET’ Edvotac dovAévovtec [ac] TO Kupiv,, Kal ovk avoOparotc: elddTEG OTL O EaY TH EGOTOC Toon ayadov, TOVTO KomLEtTat rapa Tod Kupiov, cite dovAog, ete EAEVY Epc. Colos. 3:22: Oz dodAou, 1 (entilete KaTa TAYTA TOIG KATA CUPKa Kupi- oc, pH év d¢Varpuodovaéiae, w¢ dav8porapeoKol, GAN év dxAdrntt Kapoiac, doBobuevor TOV Ody: Kal TAY 6,74 gay route, 8k woyne epyavecde, OG TO Kupi, kat ovK dy Spororc: elddte¢ étt ard Kupiod a monn code THY avTa- c Ce nodoow THe KAnpovoutac: TA yap Kupig XpioT@ dovAeve * mapopyitere, lectio non spernenda. GRIESBACH.EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. 125 own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them. Children, obey your parents in all things ; for this is well pleasing unto the Lord. Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged. Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh: not with eye-service, as men-pleas- ers ; but in singleness of heart, fearing God : and whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men: knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance ; for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that doeth wrong, shall receive for the wrong which he hath done ; and there is no respect of persons. Masters, give un- to your servants that which is just and equal; knowing that ye also have a Master in heaven.” The passages marked by italics in the quotation from the Ephesians, bear a strict resemblance, not only in significa- tion, but in terms, to the quotation from the Colossians. Both the words and the order of the words are, in many clauses, a duplicate of one another. In the epistle to the Colossians, these passages are laid together; in that to the Ephesians, they are divided by intermediate matter, espec- ially by a long digressive allusion to the mysterious union between Christ and his church; which possessing, as Mr. Locke has well observed, the mind of the apostle, from being an incidental thought, grows up into the principal subject. The affinity between these two passages in signification, in terms, and in the order of the words, is closer than can be point- ed out between any parts of any two epistles in the volume. If the reader would see how the same subject is treated by a different hand, and how distinguishable it is from the production of the same pen, let him turn to the second and third chapters of the first epistle of St. Peter. The duties of servants, of wives, and of husbands, are enlarged upon in that epistle, as they are in the epistle to the Ephesians ; but the subjects both occur in a different order, and the train of sentiment subjoined to each is totally unlike. > es ee Soc gobs scape Gate yee TPS See ese FSTe ie PP ee ete ere ee ee CS ee ee) eae eae eee Pe ee ee ee ee eee se eS ee ee ee ee ee eetee ee ee ih pose eee Piped teteveset est gee, SL Ee ot eee ee ee ee ee Se SeSE SS ee OPS eee ea ee he ee ey = ee eat HORA PAULIN A. 3. In two letters issuing from the same person, nearly at the same time, and upon the same general occasion, we may expect to trace the influence of association in the order in which the topics follow one another. Certain ideas univer- sally or usually suggest others. Here the order is what we call natural, and from such an order nothing can be con- cluded. But when the order is arbitrary, yet alike, the concurrence indicates the effect of that principle by which ideas which have been once joined commonly revisit the thoughts together. The epistles under consideration furnish the two following remarkable instances of this species of agreement : Ephes. 4:24, 25: ‘And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness. Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbor: for we are members one of another.’’* Colos. 3:9, 10: ‘lie not one to another, seeing that ye have put off the old man with his deeds; and have put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge.’’t The vice of ‘“‘ lying,” or a correction of that vice, does not seem to bear any nearer relation to the ‘‘ putting on the new man,” than a reformation in any other article of morals. Yet these two ideas, we see, stand in both epistles in imme- diate connection. Ephes. 5:20, 21, 22: “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ ; submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.’’¢ \ * Kphes. 4:24, 25: Kae évdvcacda tov kawdv *avSpwror, Tov Kara Oxdv Kriodévta Ev dikaloobvy Kade boLdTATL TIC GAnGELaC* Od amodéusvo Td ipeddoc, AaheiTe GAnSeav Exactog peta TOd TAHoiov abtod: bru gouty GAAH- Aw wenn. 7 Colos. 3:9, 10: My wedvdeade sic dAAHAovC, amEKOVOGMEVOL TOV TA- Aawby *“avdpwrov, odv Taig xpakeow advtod, kde evdvoduevor Tdv véov, TOV avakatvovpevor ei¢ éxiyvwow. . f Ephes. 5:20, 21, 22: Evyapiorodvtec révtore UTED TAVTOV, évEPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. 127 Colos. 3:17, 18: ‘‘Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord.’”’* In both these passages, submission follows giving of thanks, without any similitude in the ideas which should account for the transition. It is not necessary to pursue the comparison between the two epistles further. The argument which results from it stands thus. No two other epistles contain a circumstance which indicates that they were written at the same, or near- ly at the same time. No two other epistles exhibit so many marks of correspondency and resemblance. If the original which we ascribe to these two epistles be the true one, that is, if they were both really written by St. Paul, and both sent to their respective destination by the same messenger, the similitude is in all points what should be expected to take place. If they were forgeries, then the mention of Tychicus in both epistles, and in a manner which shows that he either carried or accompanied both epistles, was inserted for the purpose of accounting for their similitude ; or else the structure of the epistles was designedly adapted to the circumstance; or lastly, the conformity between the con- tents of the forgeries, and what is thus directly intimated concerning their date, was only a happy accident. Not one of these three suppositions will gain credit with a reader who peruses the epistles with attention, and who reviews the several examples we have pointed out, and the observa- tions with which they were accompanied. Il. There is such a thing as a peculiar word or phrase cleaving, as it were, to the memory of a writer or speaker, évouare to Kupiov judy "Incov Xpiorov, TH Oeq Kat TAT Pl, UMOTAOOOMEVOL dArnrow ev $63q Oeod. Al yuvaixss, TOLC idiowg avdpaow vroTtaccedVe, oc TO Kupiw. Colos. 3:17.18: Kade wav 6,70 dy roinre, év Abyo, 7 ev Epyw, TavTa év dvopuate Kupiov Incod, ebyaptotobvres TO Oem Kae TaTpL Ov abtov. Ad yuvaikec, broTascEVE TOLC LOLOL avopicw, oc avinkev év Kupiw. eee ere oe ee ee eh ere Se eee ee ee ee Sed @ beep eS Ho eS ee ee to ee ee ae ete eae pet ee eT ae ee ee oe ee eed[28 HORZ PAULINE. ers S| and presenting itself to his utterance at every turn. When we observe this, we call it a cant word or a cant phrase. It is a natural eflect of habit; and would appear more fre- quently than it does, had not the rules of good writing taught | id the ear to be offended with the iteration of the same sound, and oftentimes caused us to reject, on that account, the word pena which offered itself first to our recollection. With a writer who, like St. Paul, either knew not these rules, or disregard- ed them, such words will not be avoided. The truth is, an example of this kind runs through several of his epistles, and in the epistle before us abounds ; and that is in the word viches, xiottoc, used metaphorically as an augmentative of the idea to which it happens to be subjomed. Thus, ‘the yiches of his glory,” “his riches in glory,” ‘“rzches of the glory of his inheritance,” ‘‘ 7zches of the glory of this myste- ry; Rom.*9::23 ;‘Bphes.:3: 16; Phil.4:19; Ephes. 1:18; Colos. 1:27: ‘riches of his grace,” twice in the Ephe- k PAP e See el SMP SPS e PHP ePeveses eo 9 sg iy Ceepve ss PSI PTS apee eesdsy sians, 1:7, and 2:7; ‘riches of the full assurance of un- derstanding,” Colos. 2:2; ‘‘v¢ches of his goodness,’’ Rom. ee eT Ts 2:4; “riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God,” Rom. 07 O: - PES ; the adjective, Rom. 10:12, ‘“‘7zch unto all that call upon ‘riches of Christ,” Ephes. 3:8. In a like sense, kee ee him ;°-Epkes! 2:4).“‘ r2eh in mercy ;” 1 Tim. 6: 18, “veh in good works.” Also the adverb, Colos. 3:16, “let the word of Christ dwell in you vichly.” This figurative use of the word, though so familar to St Paul, does not oceur in ee any part of the New Testament, except once in the epistle of St. James, 2:5: ‘‘ Hath not God chosen the poor of this o world 7ich in faith?” where it is manifestly suggested by EPS ED EO the antithesis. I propose the frequent, yet seemingly un- ? affected use of this phrase, in the epistle before us, as one Che ee Ss internal nrark of its genuineness. III]. There is another singularity in St. Paul’s style, ed ee which, wherever it is found, may be deemed a badge of au- thenticity ; because, if it were noticed, it would not, I think, eet ee cares be imitated, masmuch as it almost always produces embar- rer ora ereEPI a E TO THE EPHESIANS. 129 rassinent and interruption in the reasoning. This singulazi- ty 1s a species of digression which may properly, I think, be denominated going off at a word. It is turning aside from the subject upon the occurrence of some particular word, forsaking the train of thought then in hand, and entering upon a parenthetic sentence in which that word is the pre- vailing term. I shall lay before the reader some examples of this collected from the other epistles, and then propose two examples of it which are found in the epistle to the Kphesians. In 2 Cor. 2: 14-17, at the word savor: “Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest the savor of his knowledge by us im every place. (For we are unto God a sweet savor of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish : to the one we are the savor of death unto death, and to the other the savor of life unto life. And who is sufficient for these things?) For we are not as many which corrupt the word of God : but as of sincerity, but as of God, in the sight of God speak we in Christ.” Again, 2 Cor. 3: 1-3, at the word epistle: ‘“‘ Need we, as some others, epistles of com- mendation to you, or of commendation from you? (Ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read of all men: forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the episile of Christ mimistered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God: not in tables of stone, but in the fleshly tables of the heart.”) The position of the words in the original, shows more strongly than in the trans- lation, that it was the occurrence of the word ézvoroay Which gave birth to the sentence that follows: 2 Cor:3:1. Rk; un XpnCouEv, OE TWEC, CvoTaTLKGY éExtoTOAGY TpdG bude, 7 &E buGv ovota- TUKGY ; 7 EXLOTOAH HUaY bueiC éoTe, Eyysypappévyn év Taig Kapdiae Hudy, Ywookopnery Kat avay.vocKkoévyn OT) TavTGV avSprav: davepobuevor 6rt éoté émtato/y Xpiotod dvaxovydsioa td Hucv, éyyeypaupévn od pédant, adda Tvévuatt Oeod Cvtoc: obK év AAs AuPivaic, dAW év Aas Kapdiag oapkivale. Again, 2 Cor. 3:12, etc., at the word vee: ‘‘ Seeing Hiore Paul, 2 " Pere tr ree ere ree, ee eee ee a ee ee ie ee paee ey ey eer eee en ee a a en ee a elected eee er ee eSSp yee eR ree ee cee Sok eee kt oe ce. Sa or eee ee ed ed aed all Nine tke ae ae ee ee eT ee et ee te ee ee Seger hoe eee ee Stree eSt eto rste HOR PAULINA. then that we have such hope, we use great plainness of speech: and not as Moses, which put a ved over his face, that the children of Israel could not steadfastly look to the end of that which is abolished: but their minds were blind- ed; for until this day remaineth the same veil untaken away in the reading of the Old Testament, which vez is done away in Christ. But even unto this day, when Moses is read, the ved/ is upon their heart. Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the Lord, the vezl shall be taken away. (Now the Lord is that Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.) But we all with open face beholding as in a class the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not.” Who sees not that this whole allegory of the vez/ arises entirely out of the occurrence of the word, in telling us that “Moses put a ved! over his face,’ and that it drew the apostle away from the proper subject of his discourse, the dignity of the office in which he was engaged? which sub- ject he fetches up again almost in the words with which he had left it: ‘“‘therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not.” The sentence which he had before been going on with, and in which he had been interrupted by the veil, was, ‘‘Seeing then that we have such hope, we use great plainness of speech.” In the epistle to the Ephesians, the reader will remark two instances in which the same habit of composition obtains : he will recognize the same pen. One he will find, chap. 4: 8-11, at the word ascended : ‘“‘ Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave cifts unto men. (Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first unto the lower parts of the earth ? He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all thmgs.) And he gave some, apostles,” ete. °EPISTLE TO THE WPHESIANS. 135d The other appears, char “For it is.a shame even to speak of those things which are . 5:12-15, at the word light: done of them in secret. But all things that are reproved, are made manifest by the ight: (for whatsoever doth make manifest is light. Wherefore he saith, Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.) See then that ye walk cireumspectly.” IV. Although it does not appear to have ever been dis- puted that the epistle before us was written by St. Paul, yet it is well known that a doubt has long been entertained concerning the persons to whom it was addressed. The question 1s founded partly on some ambiguity in the external evidence. Marcion, a heretic of the second century, as quoted by Tertullian, a father in the beginning of the third, calls it the epistle to the Laodiceans. From what we know of Marcion, his judgment is little to be relied upon; nor is it perfectly clear that Marcion was rightly understood by Tertullian. If, however, Marcion be brought to prove that some copies in his time gave év Aaodueéa in the superscription, his testimony, if it be truly interpreted, is not diminished by his heresy ; for, as Grotius observes, ‘cus in ed re mentt- retur nihil erat cause.” The name éy ’E¢écy, in the first verse, upon which word singly depends the proof that the epistle was written to the Ephesians, is not read in all the manuscripts now extant. I admit, however, that the exter- nal evidence preponderates with a manifest excess on the side of the received reading. The objection, therefore, prin- cipally arises from the contents of the epistle itself, which, in many respects, militate with the supposition that it was written to the church at Ephesus. According to the his- tory, St. Paul had passed two whole years at Ephesus. Acts 19:10. And in this point, namely, of St. Paul having preached for a considerable length of time at Ephesus, the history is confirmed by the two epistles to the Corinthians, and by the two epistles to Timothy. ‘I will tarry at Ephesus until Pentecost.” 1 Cor. 16:8. ‘ We would not ee seers eee ee eet oe Poet eee ee ee Te ae Sapna es ae LR Saami, ot ay Larne re ey Geer Sg Se wee ee ee ee ee | eae Se ae Pe ee Pe ee ee ae ey eee ye ee ee ke eef He | 132 *HORA PAULINA. | have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asza.”’ | 2 Cor.1:8. “As I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus, : Wa when I went into Macedonia.” 1 Tim.1:3. ‘And in _ | . how many things he ministered_to me at Ephesus, thou : | i knowest very well.” 2 Tim. 1:18. I adduce these testi- - [ ft | f monies, because, had it been a competition of credit between f 7 the history and the epistle, I should have thought myself é bound to have preferred the epistle. Now, every epistle which St Paul wrote to churches which he himself had founded, or which he had visited, abounds with references and appeals to what had passed during the time that he was present among them; whereas there is not a text, in the epistle to the Ephesians, from which we can collect that he had ever been at Ephesus at all. The two epistles to Sok oe St oe ee tS ee Sey the Corinthians, the epistle to the Galatians, the epistle to the Philippians, and the two epistles to the Thessalonians ee et eae a are of this class; and they are full of allusions to the apos- tle’s history, his reception, and his conduct while among them: the total want of which, in the epistle before us, is very difficult to account for, if it was in truth written to the church of Ephesus, in which city he had resided for so long atime. This is the first and strongest objection. But fur- ther, the epistle to the Colossians was addressed to a church tien te See ee ae oe in which St. Paul had never been. This we infer from the first verse of the second chapter: ‘“ For I would that ye knew what great conflict | have for you, and for them at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh.” Ce et ee ee There could be no propriety in thus joming the Colossians and Laodiceans with those ‘‘ who had not seen his face in the flesh,” if they did not also belong to the same descrip- tion.* Now, his address to the Colossians, whom he had not visited, is precisely the same as his address to the Chris- tians to whom he wrote in the epistle which we are now ee ee ee ee ee ae en = considering : ‘‘ We give thanks to God and the Father of our * Dr. Lardner contends against the validity of this conclusion; SESE EAH Bie but | think without success. Larpner, vol. 14, p. 473, edit. 1707.EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you, sémce we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus, and of the love which ye have to all the saints.” Col.1:3. Thus he speaks to the Ephe- sians, in the epistle before us, as follows: ‘“‘ Wherefore I also, after I heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus, and love unto all the saints, cease not to give thanks for you, making men- tion of you in my prayers.” Chap. 1:15. The terms of this address are observable. The words “having heard of your faith and love,” are the very words, we see, which he uses towards strangers ; and it is not probable that he should employ the same in accosting a church in which he had long exercised his ministry, and whose “ faith and love” he must have personally known.* The epistle to the Romans was written before St. Paul had been at Rome; and his address to them runs in the same strain with that just now quoted : “T thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world.” Rom. 1:8. Let us now see what was the form in which our apostle was accustomed to introduce his epistles, when he wrote to those with whom he was already acquainted. To the Corinthi- ans it was this: “I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is given you by Jesus Christ.” 1 Cor.1:4. To the Philippians: “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”’ Phil. 1:3. To the Thessa- lonians: *‘ We give thanks to God always for you all, making mention of you in our prayers; remembering without ceas- ing your work of faith, and labor of love.” 1 Thess. 1:3. To Timothy: ‘I thank God, whom I serve from my fore- * Mr. Locke endeavors to avoid this difficulty, by explaining “their faith, of which St. Paul had heard,” to mean the steadfastness ofs their persuasion that they were called into the kingdom of God, without subjection to the Mosaic institution. But this interpretation seems to me extremely hard ; for in the manner in which faith is here ‘your faith and love,” it could not joined with love, in the expression mean to denote any particular tenet which distinguished one set of Christians from others; forasmuch as the expression describes the gen- eral virtues of the Christian profession. Vide Locke in loc. Pe ee eee eae e ee ee ee ea ee ee ee ee et ee Pee fee es ee Ped anwiabes sake SS ES ASSESSES GAS ee. ee ee ee Pes ee eos Se et oe ee ee ee ee eeTertete stariere tse ee cee co eg Steir ee fis eR ee Ree Pe ee et gz Cd ed nae ee ee Me oe ee ee Bk oe ee ee 134 HORA PAULINE. fathers with pure conscience, that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day.” 2 Tim. 1:3. In these quotations, it is usually his remembrance, and never his hearing of them, which he makes the subject of his thankfulness to God. As great difficulties stand in the way of supposing the epistle before us to have been written to the church of Ephesus, so I think it probable that it is actually the epistle to the Laodiceans referred to in the fourth chapter of the epistle to the Colossians. The text which contains that ref- erence is this: ‘‘ When this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans, and that ye likewise read the epistle from Laodicea.” Ver. 16. The “‘ epistle from Laodicea,”’ was an epistle sent by St. Paul to that church, and by them transmitted to-Colosse, The two churches were mutually to communicate the epistles they had received. This is the way in which the direction is explained by the greater part of commentators, and is the most probable sense that can be given to it. It is also prob- able that the epistle alluded to was an epistle which had been received by the church of Laodicea lately. It appears then, with a considerable degree of evidence, that there exist- ed an epistle of St. Paul’s nearly of the same date with the epistle to the Colossians, and an epistle directed to a chureh— for such the church of Laodicea was—in which St. Paul had never been. What has been observed concerning the epistle before us, shows that it answers perfectly to that character. Nor does the mistake seem very difficult to account for. Whoever inspects the map of Asia Minor will see, that a person proceeding from Rome to Laodicea would probably land at Ephesus, as the nearest frequented seaport in that direction. Might not Tychicus then, in passmg through Ephesus, communicate to the Christians of that place the letter with which he was charged? And might not copies of that letter be multiphed and preserved at Ephesus?EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. 135 Might not some of the copies drop the words of designation év tH Aaodixeig,* Which it was of no consequence to an Ephe- sian to retain? Might not copies of the letter come out into the Christian church at large from Ephesus; and might not this give occasion to a belief that the letter was written to that church? And lastly, might not this belief produce the error which we suppose to have crept into the in- scription ? Y. As our epistle purports to have been written during St. Paul’s imprisonment at Rome, which les beyond the period to which the Acts of the Apostles brings up his his- tory ; and as we have seen and acknowledged that the epis- tle contains no reference to any transaction at Ephesus during the apostle’s residence in that city, we cannot expect that it should supply many marks of agreement with the narrative. One coincidence however occurs, and a coinci- dence of that minute and less obvious kind, which, as has been repeatedly observed, is most to be relied upon. Chap. 6:19, 20, we read, praying ‘for me, that I may open my mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in bonds.” ‘ Iv bonds,” év ddice, ina chain. In the twenty-eighth chapter * And it is remarkable that there seem to have been some ancient copies without the words of designation, either the words in Ephesus, or the words in Laodicea. St. Basil, a writer of the fourth century, speaking of the present epistle, has this very singular passage: ‘*‘ And writing to the Ephesians, as truly united to him who is through know- ledge, he,’’ Paul, ‘‘calleth them in a peculiar sense such who are ; say- ing to the saints who are and,” or even, ‘the faithful in Christ Jesus ; for so those before us have transmitted it, and we have found it in ancient copies.”’? Dr. Mill interprets—and, notwithstanding some objections that have been made to him, in my opinion rightly interprets—these words of Basil, as declaring that his father had seen certain copies of the epistle in which the words “tin Ephesus’? were wanting. And the passage, I think, must be considered as Basil’s fanciful way of explaining what was really a corrupt and defective reading; for I do not believe it possible that the author of the epistle could have origi- nally written dyloug Toi¢g ovovv, without any name of place to follow it. Pewee es ot ee Perr eres so eer et Toe Se ea ied Meets oe ee ee a id oe ee ee ee ee ee a ee ee ae ee ee ee eette ter ee EP LSA SE Ome S50. REET ESSEC DD cee ee eee eee eee Glo ee Toe eee ee ee Eee eae ea Pe ee eee oe eee ee ee ee 3 136 HOR PAU LIN 2. of the Acts, we are informed that Paul, after his arrival at Rome, was suffered to dwell by himself with a soldier that kept him. Dr. Lardner has shown that this mode of custody was In use among the Romans, and that whenever it was adopted, the prisoner was bound to the soldier by a single chain: in reference to which St. Paul, in the twentieth verse of this chapter, tells the Jews whom he had assem- bled, ‘‘ For this cause therefore have I called for you, to see you, and to speak with you, because that for the hope of Israel 1 am bound with this chain,” tiv ddvow TAUTHV TEPLKELLAL, It is in exact conformity therefore with the truth of St. Paul’s situation at the time, that he declares of himself in the epis- tle, mpeoBebw év ddice. And the exactness is the more remark- able, as dAvow—a chain—is nowhere used in the singular number to express any other kind of custody. When the prisoner’s hands or feet were bound together, the word was decudt, bonds, as in the twenty-sixth chapter of the Acts, where Paul replies to Agrippa, ‘‘I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am, except these bonds,” mapekto¢ TOY Oeouay Totrwv. When the prisoner was confined between two soldiers, as in the case of Peter, Acts 12:6, two chains were employed ; and it is said upon his miracu- lous deliverance, that the ‘‘ chains” —décee, in the plural— “fell from his hands.” Aegudc the noun, and dédena: the verb, being general terms, were applicable to this in common with any other species of personal coercion ; but dvov, in the sin- gular number, to none but this. If it can be suspected that the writer of thé present epistle, who in no other particular appears to have availed himself of the information concerning St. Paul delivered in the Acts, had in this verse borrowed the word which he read im that book, and had adapted his expression to what he found there recorded of St. Paul’s treatment at Rome ; in short, that the coincidence here noted was effected by craft and design—I think it a strong reply to remark, thatEPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. 137 in the parallel passage of the epistle to the Colossians, the same allusion is not preserved: the words there are, ‘“ pray- ing also for us, that God would open unto us a door of utter- ance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds,” sv 6 neu dédeua. After what has been shown in a preceding number, there can be little doubt but that these two epistles were written by the same person. If the writer, therefore, sought for, and fraudulently inserted the corre- spondency into one epistle, why did he not do it in the other? A real prisoner might use either general words which com- prehend this among many other modes of custody, or might use appropriate words which specified this, and distinguished it from any other mode. It would be accidental which form of expression he fell upon. But an impostor, who had the art in one place to employ the appropriate term for the purpose of fraud, would have used it in both places. jooecageae st eggs Lente er eye ee ete ert ees soe: ee eee et es toe es SPER SN evra ror rece yee: i ee ee BR he Be BE dee Bow. Bs Pee te ee ee ee eee Pere eek pe ee ee es a Ty i i & € a & ] i 4 3 n ’ 4 cses ee he ee en ee Pee eae aoe den ret te Se sees ee. ee ee ee ee Sea PePee es teteyesestut ese ce a a ede ee ee ee HORA PAULINA. Cia tena, yor. THE EPISTLE TO THE-PHILIPPIANS. I. WueEN a transaction is referred to in such a manner as that the reference is easily and immediately understood by those who are beforehand, or from other quarters, ac- quainted with the fact, but is obscure or imperfect, or re- quires investigation or a comparison of different parts, in order to be made clear to other readers, the transaction so referred to is probably real; because, had it been fictitious, the writer would have set forth his story more fully and plainly, not merely as conscious of the fiction, but as con- scious that his readers could have no other knowledge of the subject of his allusion than from the information of which he put them in possession. The account of Epaphroditus, in the epistle to the Philip- pians, of his journey to Rome, and of the business which brought him thither, is the article to which I mean to apply this observation. There are three passages in the epistle which relate to this subject. The first, chap. 1:7, ‘‘ Even as it is meet for me to think this of you all, because I have you in my heart; inasmuch as both in my bonds, and in the defence and confirmation of the gospel, ye all are ovyxowwvé. pov tHe xapitoc, Jot contributors to the gift which I have received.’* Nothing more is said in this place. In the latter part of the second chapter, and at the distance of half the epistle from the last quotation, the subject appears again : “Yet I supposed it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother, and companion in labor, and fellow-soldier, but * Pearce, I believe, was the first commentator who gave this sense to the expression; and I believe also that his exposition is now gen- erally assented to. He interprets in the same sense the phrase in the fifth verse, which our translation renders ‘‘ your fellowship in the gos- pel;” but which in the original is not Kovvwvia Tod evayyediov, or KoLva- via év 7H ebayyediw, but Kowwria ég Td ebayyénov.EPISTLE TO THE PHILIPPIANS. 39 your messenger, and he that ministered to my wants. For he fom after you all, and was full of heaviness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick. For indeed he was sick nigh unto death; but God had mercy on him; and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. I sent him therefore the more carefully, that, when ye see him again, ye may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. Receive him therefore in the Lord with all gladness ; and hold such in reputation : because for the work of Christ he was nigh unto death, not eens his life, to supply your lack of service towards me.” Chap. 2:25-30. The matter is here dropped, and no further mention made of it till it is taken up near the conclusion of the epistle as follows: “ But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again ; wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abasec = and I know how to abound ; : every- where and in all a ings I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. 1 can do all things through rist which strengtheneth me. Not- withstanding, ye have vial done that ye did communicate with my affliction. Now ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when T idee from Macedo- nia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity. Not because | desire a gift: but I desire fruit that may abound to your account. But I have all, and abound: I am full, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you.” Chap. 4:10-18. To the Philippian reader, who knew that con- tributions were wont to be made in that church for the apos- tle’s subsistence and relief, that the supply which they were accustomed to send to bien had been delayed by the want of opportunity, that Epaphroditus had undertaken the charge PT rt res oa ok eee re es eae ee ee ee eee coe? oe Se a ee ne ee Beh Be Cake Ee See ea ae Serer eae prey Pere ee ree ee ee ae ee tSeee de ea a ee oe ee ee ge eas St ae tote es Fy Fereseposoviecast ae ee ee ed ee ee ee ee ee eS be ee ed StL ae reeks eink. co eit Soe 140 HORA PAULINA. of conveying their liberality to the hands of the apostle, that he had acquitted himself of this commission at the peril of his life, by hastening to Rome under the oppression of a grievous sickness—to a reader who knew all this beforehand, every line in the above quotations would be plain and clear. But how is it with a stranger? The knowledge of these several particulars is necessary to the perception and expla- nation of the references ; yet that knowledge must be gath- ered from a comparison of passages lying at a great distance from one another.. Texts must be interpreted by texts long subsequent to them, which necessarily produces embarrass- ment and suspense. The passage quoted from the beginning of the epistle contains an acknowledgment, on the part of the apostle, of the hberality which the Philippians had exer- cised towards him; but the allusion is so general and inde- terminate, that, had nothing more been said in the sequel of the epistle, it would hardly have been appled to this occa- sion at all. In the second quotation, Epaphroditus is de- clared to have ‘“‘ ministered to the apostle’s wants,’ and ‘to have supplied their lack of service towards him ;” but how, that is, at whose expense or from what fund he ‘‘ minister- ed,” or what was “the lack of service’’ which he supplied, are left very much unexplained, till we arrive at the third quotation, where we find that Epaphroditus ‘*miistered to St. Paul’s wants,” only by conveying to his hands the con- tributions of the Philippians: ‘‘ 1 am full, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you;” and that ‘the lack of service which he supplied” was a delay or interruption of their accustomed bounty, occasioned by the want of opportunity: ‘‘I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again ; wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity.” The affair at length comes out clear; but it comes out by piecemeal. The clearness is the result of the reciprocal iulustration of divided texts. Should any one choose there- fore to insmuate, that this whole story of Epaphroditus, orERISTLE FO ‘THE PHILIPPIANS. 141 his journey, his errand, his sickness, or even his existence might, for what we know, have no other foundation than in the invention of the forger of the epistle; I answer, that a forger would have set forth this story connectedly, and also more fully and more perspicuously. If the epistle be authen- tic, and the transaction real, then every thing which is said concerning Epaphroditus and his commission would be clear to those into whose hands the epistle was expected to come. Considering the Philippians as his readers, a person might naturally write upon the subject, as the author of the epistle has written; but there is no supposition of forgery with which it will suit. I]. The history of Epaphroditus supplies another obser- vation : ‘Indeed he was sick, nigh unto death; but God had mercy on him: and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow.” In this passage no intimation is given that Epaphroditus’ recovery was miraculous. It is plainly, I think, spoken of as a natural event. This mstance, together with one in the second epis- tle to Timothy, ‘‘ Trophimus have I left at Miletum sick,” affords a proof that the power of performing cures, and, by parity of reason, of working other miracles, was a power which only visited the apostles occasionally, and did not at all depend upon their own will. Paul undoubtedly would have healed Epaphroditus if he could. Nor, if the power of working cures had awaited his disposal, would he have left his fellow-traveller at Miletus sick. This, I think, is a fair observation upon the instances adduced; but it is not the observation I am concerned to make. It is more for the purpose of my argument to remark, that forgery, upon such an occasion, would not have spared a miracle; much less would it have introduced St. Paul professing the utmost anxiety for the safety of his friend, yet acknowledging him- self unable to help him; which he does, almost expressly, 9) in the case of Trophimus, for he ‘left him sick ;” and vir- tually in the passage before us, in which he felicitates him- PEer errr Tee eee e Fee in et ee oe ee tees So Fak abt ee wie & ee. are ee oe idee Bini Bevis Seeee yok ees pee re ye ee tte ope reeritaee ret eT ee heat Br ee ea te ee ee Lol et Dee $$eieedee ee ot wee de ere eS Hrstepehee ee eS et ee en’ Cee ee ts ee ee a ee ee ee ee ee ee! y 142 HORA PAULINA. self upon the recovery of Epaphroditus, in terms which almost exclude the supposition of any supernatural means being employed to effect it. This is a reserve which nothing but truth would have imposed. Ill. Chap. 4:15, 16: ‘Now ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when 1 departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity.” It will be necessary to state the Greek of this passage, because our translation does not, I think, give the sense of it accurately. Oidare d& Kae buetc, PiduraHjotot, bre év apy Tod ebayyeniov, OTE EsHA- Sov axd Maxedoviac, oddeuia por éxxAnoia éxowdvyoer, Ete Adyov ddcEw¢ ci Ambewc, el u7 byete uovol* OTL Ka Ev OEcoadovixy Kat amaé Kat oi¢ é¢ THY Ypelav uot ETEwrpare. The reader will please to direct his attention to the cor- responding particulars 67 and dé xd, which connect the words év dpyq tod ebayyediov, bre éSHASov adxd Maxedoviac, with the words év Oeccarovixn, and denote, as I interpret the passage, two distinct donations, or rather donations at two distinct periods, one at Thessalonica, dat cde dtc, the other after his departure from’ Macedonia, ére é&79ov xd Makedoviac.* I would render the passage so as to mark these different periods, thus: ‘‘ Now ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when I was departed from Macedo- nia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only. And that also in Thessalonica Kade éyéveto, o¢ GrHAdov am avtov ec Tov oipavodr * Luke 2:15: yi ol *ayyeAou, ‘Sas the angels were gone away,”’ that is, after their de- parture, ol Tomévec eizov mpd¢ aAApAove. Mat. 12:43: “Orav 0& TO dKadaptov mvetua ééAIn axd Tod avGporov, ‘when the unclean spirit is gone,’’ that is, after his departure, dépyerat. John 13:30: ‘Ove ee7ade (lobdac,) “when he was gone,” that is, after his departure, Aéyer Inooic. Acts 10:7: O¢ d& annAdev 6 *ayyedor 6 AadGv TO Kopvn- Aiw, ‘‘and when the angel which spake unto him was departed,” that is, after his departure, dwrpoac dvd THy olKETOY, etc.EPISTLE TO THE PHILIPPIANS. 143 ye sent once and again unto my necessity.” Now with this exposition of the passage compare 2 Cor. 11:8,9: “I robbed other churches, taking wages of them, to do you ser- vice. And when I was present with you, and wanted, I was chargeable to no man; for that which was lacking to me the brethren which came from Macedonia supplied.” It appears from St. Paul’s history, as related in the Acts of the Apostles, that upon leaving Macedonia, he passed, after a very short stay at Athens, into Achaia. It appears secondly, from the quotation out of the epistle to the Corin- thians, that in Achaia he accepted no pecuniary assistance from the converts of that country ; but that he drew a sup- ply for his wants from the Macedonian Christians. Agree- ably whereunto it appears, in the third place, from the text which is the subject of the present number, that the breth- ren in Philippi, a city of Macedonia, had followed him with their munificence, dre é£729ov dxd Makedoviac, when he was departed from Macedonia, that is, when he was come into Achaia. The passage under consideration affords another cir- cumstance of agreement deserving of our notice. The gift alluded to in the epistle to the Philippians is stated to have >> been made ‘in the beginning of the gospel This phrase is most naturally explained to signify the first preaching of | the gospel in these parts; namely, on that side of the Augean ~ sea. The succors referred to in the epistle to the Corinthi- ans, as received from Macedonia, are stated to have been received by him upon his first visit to the peninsula of Greece. The dates therefore assigned to the donation in the two epistles agree; yet 1s the date in one ascertained very incidentally, namely, by the considerations which fix the date of the epistle itself; and in the other, by an ex- pression—* the beginning of the gospel’’"—much too general to have been’ used if the text had been penned with any view to the correspondency we are remarking. Further, the phrase, “‘in the degenning of the gospel,” ee ee re a ae ee o a eae ee ce ete Te pee eee le Bi Bee 3 tee ee R Ps Pe ee pe a eee ee eee ee pao ep ee ee oe ee ee estt tabasco ee ee ha be Se A Se ot ee et Se oe Ped eas ee ae es ee ee ee ee te es ee nd ers ee ert eienrseen ese ee Sor Ee eer 144 HORA PAULINA. raises an idea in the reader’s mind that the gospel had been preached there more than once. The writer would hardly have called the visit to which he refers the ‘beginning of the gospel,” if he had not also visited them in some other stage of it. The fact corresponds with this idea. If we consult the sixteenth and twentieth chapters of the Acts, we shall find, that St. Paul, before his imprisonment at Rome, during which this epistle purports to have been written, had been twice in Macedonia, and each time at Philippi. IV. That Timothy had been long with St. Paul at Phi- lippi is a fact which seems to be implied in this epistle twice. First, he joins in the salutation with which the epistle opens: ‘“ Paul and Timotheus, the servants of Jesus Christ, ‘to all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi.” Secondly, and more directly, the point is inferred from what is said concerning him, chap. 2:19: “But I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timotheus shortly unto you, that I also may be of good comfort, when | know your state. For I have no man like-minded, who will naturally care for your state. For all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ’s. But ye know the proof of him, that as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel.” Had Timothy’s presence with St. Paul at Philippi, when he preached the gospel there, been expressly remarked in the Acts of the Apostles, this quotation might be thought to contain a contrived adaptation to the history; although, even in that case, the averment, or rather the allusion in the epistle, is too oblique to afford much room for such sus- picion. But the truth is, that in the history of St. Paul’s transactions at Philippi, which occupies the greatest part of the sixteenth chapter of the Acts, no mention is made of Timothy at all. What appears concerning Timothy in the history, so far as relates to the present subject, is this : when Paul came to Derbe and Lystra, ‘ behold a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus. ... Him would Paul have to ? go forth with him.” The narrative then proceeds with theEPISTLE TO:THE PHIBIPPIANS. 145 account of St. Paul’s progress through various provinces of the lesser Asia, till it brings him down to Troas. At Troas he was warned in a vision to pass over into Macedonia. In obedience to which, he crossed the Aigean sea to Samothra- cia, the next day to Neapolis, and from thence to Philippi. His preaching, miracles, and persecutions at Philippi followed next: after which Paul and his company, when they had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, came to Thessa- lonica’ and from Thessalonica to Berea. From Berea the brethren sent away Paul, “but Silas and T%motheus abode there still.” The itinerary, of which the above is an ab- stract, is undoubtedly sufficient to support an inference that Timothy was along with St. Paul at Philippi. We find them setting out together upon this progress from Derbe, in Lyca- oma; we find them together near the conclusion of it, at Berea, in Macedonia. It is highly probable, therefore, that they came together to Philippi, through which their route between these two places lay. If this be thought probable, it is sufficient. For what I wish to be observed is, that in comparing, upon this subject, the epistle with the history, we do not find a recital in one place of what is related in another ; but that we find, what is much more to be relied upon, an oblique allusion to an implied fact. V. Our epistle purports to have been written near the conclusion of St. Paul’s imprisonment at Rome, and after a residence in that city of considerable duration. These circumstances are made out by different intimations, and the intimations upon the subject preserve among themselves a just consistency, and a consistency certainly unmeditated. First, the apostle had already been a prisoner at Rome so long, as that the reputation of his bonds, and of his con- stancy under them, had contributed to advance the success of the gospel: ‘But I would ye should understand, breth- ren, that the things which happened unto me have fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the gospel; so that my bonds in Christ are manifest in all the palace, and in all 5k Perr eet Pee Pe Pee ee Le ee ee ee ee ree ee eS Fe a ae ee ee SS ee eee or ee Pa a ee a eer ~ecectamacen mater SEP A Se ee ee oe ee ee ee oe ee146 HORE PAULIN As. : other places; and many of the brethren in the Lord, wax- | ing confident by my bonds, are much more bold to speak 3 t the word without fear.” Secondly, the account given of i: | Epaphroditus imports, that St. Paul, when he wrote the ; r epistle, had been in Rome a considerable time: ‘‘ He longed : | ! after you all, and was full of heaviness, because that ye had : Pe heard that he had been sick.” Epaphroditus was with St. 4 3 Paul at Rome. He had been sick. The Philippians had = heard of his sickness, and he again had received an atcount how much they had been affected by the intelligence. The passing and repassing of these advices must necessarily have occupied a long portion of time, and must have all taken place during St. Paul’s residence at Rome. Thirdly, after SCC tee eee he ae co Prey a residence at Rome thus proved to have. been of consider- 2% able duration, he now regards the decision of his fate as nigh at hand. He contemplates either alternative—that of his > deliverance, chap. 2:23: “Him, therefore,’ Timothy, “I hope to send presently, so soon as I shall see how it will go with me. . But I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly:” that of his condemnation, ver. 17: “ Yea, ore ot a at. and if I be offered* upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all.” This consistency is material, if the consideration of it be confined to the epis- tle. It is further material, as it agrees, with respect to the duration of St. Paul’s first imprisonment at Rome, with the account delivered in the Acts, which, having o brought the apostle to Rome, closes the history by telling us ‘that he ee te eae ee oe ee dwelt there tevo whole years in his own hired house.” VI. Chap. 1:23: ‘For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ ; which is far better.” With this compare 2 Cor. 5:8: ‘ We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to ek ee th Se ee oe ee be present with the Lord.” cae ie *® VAAN ci Kae onévdouat Ext TH Svoia the mioTews busy, if my blood ee eae Ir be poured out as a libation upon the sacrifice of your faith.EPISTLE FO THE PHIGIPPIANS. 147 The sameness of sentiment in these two quotations is obvious. I rely, however, not so much upon that, as upon the similitude in the train of thought which in each epistle leads up to this sentiment, and upon the suitableness of that train of thought to the circumstances under which the epis- tles purport to have been written. This, I conceive, be- speaks the production of the same mind, and of a mind operating upon real circumstances. The sentiment is in both places preceded by the contemplation of imminent per- sonal danger. To the Philippians he writes, in the twentieth verse of this chapter, ‘‘ According to my earnest expectation, and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also, Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death.” To the Corinthians, ‘“‘ Troubled on every side, yet not dis- tressed ; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus.” This train of reflection is continued to the place from whence the words which we compare are taken. The two epistles, though written at different times, from different places, and to dif- ferent churches, were both written under circumstances which would naturally recall to the author’s mind the pre- carious condition of his life, and the perils which constantly awaited him. When the epistle to the Philippians was written the author was a prisoner at Rome, expecting his trial. When the second epistle to the Corinthians was writ- ten he had lately escaped a danger in which he had given himself over for lost. The epistle opens with a recollection of this subject, and the impression accompanied the writer’s thoughts throughout. I know that nothing is easier than to transplant into a forged epistle a sentiment or expression which is found in a true one; or, supposing both epistles to be forged by the same hand, to insert the same sentiment or expression in both ; but the difficulty is to introduce it in just and close soe ae +e reece Tees ore ree ee eS oe Batti cn ee ee ee ee ee ae ae ssc aS a pp tats iY Sar a re a teen SR ae eee enor oe eee | ee ees eg eR pee re ee ee oe ad ae ee ee ee ee eeee ts Roce eee ee ee ee eS ek i CS tok ea ee oe eae dar a Bees PaPepe Rees mn Se bet oe ee en eee eek ees 2 Pre a — Seek eo ee hh ee eee ee ee ee a 148 HORA PAULINA. connection with a train of thought going before, and with a train of thought apparently generated by the circumstances under which the epistle 1s written. In two epistles, pur- porting to be written on different occasions, and in different periods of the author’s history, this propriety would not easily be managed. Vil. Chap? 1229; 30'3°2 +1, 2:0“ Por ante, yours sven in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake; having the same conflict which ye saw im me, and now hear to be in me. If there be there- fore any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any bowels and mercies, fulfil ye my joy, that ye be hke-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.” With this compare Acts 16:22: ‘“‘And the multitude,” at Philippi, ‘‘rose up together against them,’ Paul and Silas: ‘and the magistrates rent off their clothes, and com- manded to beat them. And when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into prison, charging the jailer to keep them safely. Who having received such a charge, thrust them into the mner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.” The passage in the epistle is very remarkable. I know not an example in any writing of a juster pathos, or which more truly represents the workings of a warm and aflec- tionate mind, than what is exhibited in the quotation before us.* The apostle reminds the Philippians of their being jomed with himself in the endurance of persecution for the sake of Christ. He conjures them by the ties of their com- mon profession and their common sufferings, to “ fulfil his t joy; to complete, by the unity of their faith, and by their mutual love, that joy with which the instances he had re- ceived of their zeal and attachment had inspired his breast. * The original is very spirited: "Ez tic ody rapaKAnatc tv Xpio7G, él TL Tapauvdiov ayarne, et TiC KoLvwvia IIvebpuaroc, & Twa onAGyxva Kal olkTippol, TAnpwcaté jeov THY Yapar.EPISTLE EO THARP HI EIePLANS. 149 a Now if this was the real effusion of St. Paul’s mind, of which it bears the strongest internal character, then we have in the words ‘‘ the same conflict which ye saw in me,” an authentic confirmation of so much of the apostle’s history in the Acts, as relates to his transactions at Philippi; and, through that, of the imtelligence and general fidelity of the historian. a ee ee ee ee ee et ee ee Fa Ve A $ os ~~ Pet ee eee eae eae pee ee ee ee et ee se a ee eee ee= Peete eat oo it tees tote tet ee ee ee oe See Ce ee. ee ee ee a a bes ee te ee eee ee a eee et ee ee ee ee ee oe ee eee ee ee eee HORA PAULINA. CAAcP TE RieV-1 11. DELLE, EPi oi TO. WA COLO SS: LANS,, I. Tere is a circumstance of conformity between St. Paul’s history and his letters, especially those which were written during his first imprisonment at Rome, and more especially the epistles to the Colossians and Ephesians, which being too close to be accounted for from accident, yet too in- direct and latent to be imputed to design, cannot easily be resolved into any other original than truth: which circum- stance is this, that St. Paul in these epistles attributes his imprisonment, not to his preaching of Christianity, but to his asserting the right of the Gentiles to be admitted into it without conforming themselves to the Jewish law. This was the doctrine to which he considered himself as a martyr. Thus, in the epistle before us, chap. 1:24: I Paul, ‘‘ who now rejoice in my sufferings for you” —“‘for you,” that is, for those whom he had never seen; for a few verses after- wards he adds, ‘‘ I would that ye knew what great conflict I have for you, and for them in Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh.” His suffering there- fore for them was, in their general capacity of Gentile Christians, agreeably to what he explicitly declares in his ae epistle to the Ephesians, 3:1: ‘For this cause, I Paul, the prisoner of Jesus Christ for you Gentiles.” Again, in the epistle now under consideration, 4:3: ‘* Withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds.” What that ‘‘mystery of Christ” was, the epistle to the Ephesians distinctly informs us: ‘‘ Whereby, when ye read, ye may understand my knowledge in the mystery of Chrast, which in other ages was not made known unto the sons of men, as it is now revealed unto the holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit, that the Gentiles should be fellow- heirs, and of the same body, and partakers of has promiseEPISTLE TO THE COLOSSIANS. 151 un Christ, by the gospel.” This, therefore, was the con- fession for which he declares himself to be in bonds. Now let us inquire how the occasion of St. Paul’s imprisonment is represented in the history. The apostle had not long re- turned to Jerusalem from his second visit into Greece, when an uproar was excited in that city by the clamor of certain Asiatic. Jews, who, ‘having seen Paul in the temple, stirred up all the people, and laid hands on him.” The charge advanced against him was, that “‘ he taught all men every- where against the people, and the law, and this place ; and further,. brought Greeks also into the temple, and hath pol- luted this holy place.” The former part of the charge seems to point at the doctrine which he maintained, of the admis- sion of the Gentiles, under the new dispensation, to an in- discriminate participation of God’s favor with the Jews. But what follows makes the matter clear. When, by the interference. of the chief captain, Paul had been rescued out of the hands of the populace, and was permitted to address the multitude who had followed him to the stairs of the castle, he delivered a brief account of his birth, of the early course of his life, of his miraculous conversion ; and is pro- ceeding in this narrative, until he comes to describe a vision which was presented to him, as he was praying in the tem- ple; and which bid him depart out of Jerusalem; ‘for I will send thee far hence unto the Gentiles.” Acts22:21. ‘They gave him audience,” says the historian, ‘unto this word, and then lifted up their voices, and said, Away with such a fellow from the earth.” Nothing can show more strongly than this account does, what was the offence which drew down upon St. Paul the vengeance of his countrymen His mission to the Gentiles, and his open avowal of that mis- sion, was the intolerable part of the apostle’s crime. But although the real motive of the prosecution appears to have been the apostle’s conduct towards the Gentiles, yet when his accusers came before a Roman magistrate, a charge was to be framed of a more legal form. The profanation of the eu oP ee Re ee peetiera eyerrervr yer epee Peet Pete ee ea el ee oe ee nacigeee aaa = site tarts Toye Tey Te Te ee ee | Tag Me ee eee llla Fe 3 liter sat Ae ee ae fie oe ee: ek ee Se ee ee ed ee ee Ce cos ee ee eee eee Le ee ae ae eee ee ee Te ee TE ERE SS EO ED ee ee 2 HORA PAU LIN Az. an 1: temple was the article they chose torely upon. This, there- fore, became the immediate subject of Tertullus’ oration before Felix, and of Paul’s defence. But that he all along considered his ministry among the Gentiles as the actual source of the enmity that had been exercised against him, and in particular, as the cause of the insurrection in which his person had been seized, is apparent from the conclusion of his discourse before Agrippa: ‘‘I have appeared unto thee,” says he, describing what passed upon his journey to Damascus, “for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the. which I will appear unto thee; deliver- ing thee from the people and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me. Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision; but showed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to kill me.” The seizing, therefore, of St. Paul’s person, from which he was never discharged till his final liberation at Rome, and of which, therefore, his imprisonment at Rome was the continuation and effect, was not in consequence of any general persecution set on foot against Christianity ; nor did it befall him simply as professmg or teaching Christ’s religion, which James and the elders at Jerusalem did as well as he, and yet, for any thing that appears, remained at that time unmolested ; but it was distinctly and specifically brought upon him by his activity in preaching to the Gen- tiles, and by his placing them upon a level with the once- favored and still self-flattered posterity of Abraham. How well St. Paul’s letters, purporting to be written durmg thisEPISTLE TO:‘2HE COB@SSIANS. 153 Imprisonment, agree with this account of its cause and origin, we have already seen. II. Chap. 4:10, 11: ‘Aristarchus, my fellow-prisoner, saluteth you, and Marcus, sister’s son to Barnabas, (touching whom ye received commandments: if he come unto you, receive him,) and Jesus, which is called Justus, who are of the circumcision.”’ We find Aristarchus as a companion of our apostle in the nineteenth chapter of the Acts and the twenty-ninth verse : ? “And the whole city” of Ephesus “was filled with confu- sion: and having caught Gaius and Aristarchus, men of Mac- edonia, Paul's companions in travel, they rushed with one accord into the theatre.” And we find him upon his jour- ney with St. Paul to Rome, in the twenty-seventh chapter and the second verse: ‘‘ And when it was determined that we should sail into Italy, they delivered Paul and certain other prisoners unto one named Julius, a centurion of Agus- tus’ band. And entering into a ship of Adramyttium, we launched,.meaning to sail by the coasts of Asia; one Aris- tarchus, a Macedonian of Thessalonica, being with us.” But might not the author of the epistle have consulted the history ; and, observing that the historian had brought Aris- tarchus along with Paul to Rome, might he not for that reason, and without any other foundation, have put down his name among the salutations of an epistle purporting to be written by the apostle from that place? I allow so much of possibility to this objection, that I should not have pro- posed this in the number of coincidences clearly undesigned, had Aristarchus stood alone. The observation that strikes me in reading the passage is, that together with Aristarchus, whose journey to Rome we trace in the history, are joined Marcus and Justus, of whose coming to Rome the history says nothing. Aristarchus alone appears in the history, and Aristarchus alone would have appeared in the epistle, if the author had regulated himself by that conformity. Or if you take it the other way—if you suppose the history to have Hore Paul. ee ie 3 3 ieeee pe. ee eer eee ore eet Pi ee Seek ik ee eee ee er oe ee ee ee ee ee ee eee a STS STs ee Ree eee TT ye roe Pee ee eee TePe se & Crista Pepeye Fo id eS ee ee ee ee ee ee ore ed E cf . Ea Ra ee eae eon ed Pat a otriettasttes ee eee eee ee et ee See eee 2 3 Stag3 Gt Setedeeare cee et od edhe s ee oes ee HORM PAULINA. been made out of the epistle, why the journey of Aristarchus to Rome should be recorded, and not that of Marcus and Justus, if the groundwork of the narrative was the appear- ance of Aristarchus’ name in the-epistle, seems to be una- countable. “Mareus, sister’s son to Barnabas.” Does not this hint account for Barnabas’ adherence to Mark in the contest that arose with our apostle concerning him ? ‘And some days after, Paul said unto Barnabas, Let us go again and visit our brethren in every city where we have preached the word of the Lord, and see how they do. And Barnabas determined to take with them John, whose surname was Mark. But Paul thought not good to take him with them, who departed from them from Pamphylia, and went not with them to the work. And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed asunder one from the other: and so Barnabas took’Mark and sailed unto Cyprus.” The history, which records the dispute, has not preserved the circumstance of Mark’s relationship to Barnabas. It is nowhere noticed but in the text before us. As far, therefore, as it applies, the application is certainly undesigned. « Sister’s son to Barnabas.” This woman, the mother of Mark, and the sister of Barnabas, was, as might be ex- pected, a person of some eminence among the Christians of Jerusalem. It so happens that we hear of her in the his- tory. When Peter was delivered from prison, ‘‘ he came to the house of Mary the mother of John, whose surname was Mark ; where many were gathered tcgether praying.” Acts 12:12. There is somewhat of coincidence in this—some- what bespeaking real transactions among real persons. Ill. The following coincidence, though it bear the ap- pearance of great nicety and refinement, ought not, perhaps, to be deemed imaginary. In the salutations with which this, like most of St. Paul’s epistles, concludes, we have «“ Avistarchus and Marcus, and Jesus, which is called Justus, who are of the circumcision.” Chap.4:10, 11. Then fol-low also, ‘“ Epaphras, Luke the beloved physician, and De- mas.” Now, as this description, ‘who are of the circum- cision,” is added after the first three names, it is inferred, not without great appearance of probability, that the rest, among whom is Luke, were not of the cireumcision. Now, can we discover any expression in the Acts of the Apostles which ascertains whether the author of the book was a Jew or not? If we can discover that he was not a Jew, we fix a circumstance in his character which coincides with what is here, indirectly indeed, but not very uncertainly, inti- mated concerning Luke: and we so far confirm both the testimony of the primitive church, that the Acts of the Apos- tles was written by St. Luke, and the general reality of the persons and circumstances brought together in this epistle. The text in the Acts, which has been construed to show that the writer was not a Jew, is the nineteenth verse of the first chapter, where, in describing the field which had been pur- chased with the reward of Judas’ iniquity, it is said, “that it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem; insomuch as that field is called in thezr proper tongue, Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood.” These words are by most commentators taken to be the words and observation of the historian, and not a part of St. Peter’s speech, in the midst of which they are found. If this be admitted, then it is argued that the expression, ‘‘in ¢iezr proper tongue,” would not have been used by a Jew, but is suitable to the pen of a Gentile writmg concerning Jews.* The reader will judge of the probability of this conclusion, and we urge the coinci- dence no further than the probability extends. The coimei- dence, if it be one, is so remote from all possibility of design, that nothing need be added to satisfy the reader upon that part of the argument. WW. Chaps 4 +97 With Onesimus, a faithful and belov- ed brother, who ts one of you.” * Vide Benson’s Dissertation, vol. 1, p. 318 of his works, edit. 1706. EPISTLE TO THE COLOSSIANS. 1455 Se e See t ets Be ee ee So ee ee er eee ee eee Te ee ee ee ee ee Pe at ek ae eee re aed pipe ee tee ee ee oe oo ee ee ee er)ed ot ee ee ee ee ee $3: rf ReGeotereLenet ga pagaGae ss ses Peer = . . Ssseersee : GIES EAEALSLSP SEALE a ed eee eee ee ee wane ra re a ¢2 teeth ie het ee ee ee ee cars Ee ee a Sr 156 HORA PAULINE. Observe how it may be made out that Onesimus was a Golossian. Turn to the epistle to Philemon, and you will find that Onesimus was the servant or slave of Philemon. The question, therefore, will be, to what city Philemon be- longed. In the epistle addressed to him this is not declared. It appears only that he was of the same place, whatever that place was, with an eminent Christian named Archip- pus. ‘Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ, and Timothy our brother, unto Philemon our dearly beloved, and fellow-labor- er, and to our beloved Apphia, and Archippus our fellow- soldier, and to the church in thy house.’ Now turn back to the epistle to the Colossians, and you will find Archippus saluted by name among the Christians of that church. “Say to Archippus, Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.” Chap. 4:17. The necessary result is, that Onesimus also was of the same city, agreeably to what is said of him, ‘he is one of you.” And this result is either the effect of truth, which produces consistency without the writer’s thought or care, or of a con- texture of forgeries confirming and falling in with one an- other by a species of fortuity of which I know no example. The supposition of design, I think, is excluded, not only be- cause the purpose to which the design must have been direct- ed, namely, the verification of the passage in our epistle, in which it is said concerning Onesimus, “he is one of you,” is a purpose which would be lost upon ninety-nine readers out of a hundred; but because the means made use of are too circuitous to have been the subject of affectation and con- trivanee. Would a forger, who had this purpose in view, have left his readers to hunt it out, by gomg forward and backward from one epistle to another, in order to connect Onesimus with Philemon, Philemon with Archippus, and Archippus with Colosse? all which he must do before he arrives at his discovery, that it was truly said of Onesimus, ‘he is one of you.”FIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 167 CHAPTER: BX. THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. pi vedas een Ge Tees TF SF se Sse FST TY I. Ir is known to every reader of Scripture that the first epistle to the Thessalonians speaks of the coming of Christ in terms which indicate an expectation of his speedy appear- ance: ‘‘ For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, eae eee ee aes aoe of that ze which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds. But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day eT ee ee ee ee ee should overtake you as a thief.” Chap. 4:15-17; 5:4. Whatever other construction these texts may dear, the idea they leave upon the mind of an ordinary reader, is that of the author of the epistle looking for the day of judgment to take place in his own time, or near to it. Now the use which J make of this circumstance is, to deduce from it a proof that the epistle itself was not the production of a sub- sequent age. Would an impostor have given this expecta- tion to St. Paul, after experience had proved it to be errone- Hie, ous? or would he have put into the apostle’s mouth, or, . eee eee ee Pee er eee es yee ye eee ee which is the same thing, into writings purporting to come from his hand, expressions, if not necessarily conveying, at } least easily interpreted to convey, an opinion which was then i G known to be founded in mistake? I state this as an argu- ae ment to show that the epistle was contemporary with St. Paul, which is little less than to show that it actually pro- ceeded from his pen. For I question whether any ancient forgeries were executed in the lifetime of the person whose name they bear; nor was the primitive situation of the church likely to give birth to such an attempt. seh bole aasteows oe ee ee ee ee eeititabseieeee eee ee ki ae (ed bok hoe oe ook we ob g er rn PoP sfetersiewe- ee oe oe ee ee tee eee a ee ee fete cagdoen es ee oe teat ee 158 HORE PAW EA NA, II. Our epistle concludes with a direction that it should be publicly read in the church to which it was addressed: “T charge you by the Lord that this epistle be read unto all the holy brethren.” The existence of this clause in the body of the epistle is an evidence of its authenticity ; because to produce a letter purporting to have been publicly read in the church of Thessalonica, when no such letter in truth had been read or heard of in that church, would be to pro- duce an imposture destructive of itself. At least, it seems unlikely that the author of an imposture would voluntarily and even officiously aflord a handle to so plain an objection. Either the epistle was publicly read in the church of Thes- salonica during St. Paul’s lifetime, or it was not. If it was, no publication could be more authentic, no species of notori- ety more unquestionable, no method of preserving the integ- rity of the copy more secure. If it was not, the clause we produce would remain a standing condemnation of the for- gery, and one would suppose, an invincible impediment to its success. If we connect this article with the preceding, we shall perceive that they combine into one strong proof of the gen- uineness of the epistle. The preceding article carries up the date of the epistle to the time of St. Paul; the present article fixes the publication of it to the church of Thessa- lonica. Either therefore the chureh of Thessalonica was imposed upon by a false epistle, which in St. Paul’s life- time they received and read publicly as his, carrying on a communication with him all the while, and the epistle refer- ring to the continuance of that communication; or other Christian churches, in the same lifetime of the apostle, re- ceived an epistle purporting to have been publicly read in the church of Thessalonica, which nevertheless had not been heard of in that church ; or lastly, the conclusion remains, that the epistle now in our hands is genuine. III. Between our epistle and the history the accordancy in many points is circumstantial and complete. The historyFIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 159 relates that, after Paul and Silas had been beaten with many stripes at Philippi, shut up in the inner prison, and their feet made fast in the stocks, as soon as they were dis- charged from their confinement they departed from thence, and, when they had passed through Amphipolis and A pollo- nia, came to Thessalonica, where Paul opened and alleged that Jesus was the Christ. Acts 16,17. The epistle writ- ten in the name of Paul and Silvanus, i. e. Silas, and of Timotheus, who also appears to have been along with them at Philippi, (vide Philippians, No. IV..,) speaks to the church of Thessalonica thus: ‘“ Even after that we had suffered be- fore, and were shamefully entreated, as ye know, at Philippi, we were bold in our God to speak unto you the gospel of God with much contention.” Chap. 2:2. The history relates, that after they had been some time at Thessalonica, ‘‘ the Jews which believed not..... set all the city on an uproar, and assaulted the house of Jason,’’ where Paul and Silas were, “and sought to bring them out to the people.” Acts 17:5. The epistle declares, ‘‘ When we were with you, we told you before that we should suffer tribulation ; even as vt came to pass, and ye know.” Chap. 3:4. The history brings Paul and Silas and Timothy together at Corinth, soon after the preaching of the gospel at Thessaloni- ca: ‘And when Silas and Timotheus were come from Mace- donia’’ to Corinth, ‘‘ Paul was pressed in spirit.” Acts 18:5. The epistle is written in the name of these three persons, who consequently must have been together at the time, and speaks throughout of their ministry at Thessalonica as a recent trans- action: ‘‘ We, brethren, being taken from you for a short tyme in presence, not in heart, endeavored the more abun- dantly to see your face with great desire.” Chap. 2:17. The harmony is indubitable; but the points of history in which it consists are so expressly set forth in the narra- tive, and so directly referred to in the epistle, that it becomes necessary for us to show that the facts in one writing were not copied from the other. Now, amid some minuter dis- Prete lt ee ee SY Pores Tope re ee a Sess a or ee ee eee tee a (the © cae Pe | pe cg Stee aiteneepecnres pens Pein aera LRN ET ee ee a a eee ep ee ee ee ae Se hs GP RRM SMe Pars SHasSSs ee os a ad =: ™ ya yo ome 3 ~ ™ a . H = "3 SSR Pe Sees eee eke eee Th ed he Stet eeen asa ee ee ba Tice igettehaei eee ee eee ee ee Te Le ee ee eee et ees +. eet Dede ee ee ae eat ee ees rece S 7 teers d 160 HORA PAULINA. erepancies, which will be noticed below, there is one circum- stance which mixes itself with all the allusions m the epis- tle, but does not appear in the history anywhere ; and that is of a visit which St. Paul had intended to pay to the Thessa- ad lonians during the time of his residing at Corinth : ‘‘ Where- fore we would have come unto you, even I Paul, once and again; but Satan hindered. us.” Chap. 2:18. “Night and day praying exceedingly that we might see your face, and might perfect that which is lacking in your faith. Now God himself and our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, direct our way unto you.” Chap. 3:10, 11. Concerning a design which was not executed, although the person him- self, who was conscious of his own purpose, should make mention in his letters, nothing 1s more probable than that his historian should be silent, if not ignorant. The author of the epistle could not, however, have learned this circum- stance from the history, for it is not there to be met with; nor, if the historian had drawn his materials from the epis- tle, is it likely that he would have passed over a circum- stance which is among the most obvious and prominent of the facts to be collected from that source of information. IV. Chap. 3:1, 6, 7: ‘‘ Wherefore, when we could no longer forbear, we thought it good to be left at Athens alone ; and sent Timotheus, our brother, and minister of God, and our fellow-laborer in the gospel of Christ, to establish you, and to comfort you concerning your faith. But now, when Timotheus came from you unto us, and brought us good tidings of your faith and charity, .... we were comforted over you in all our affliction and distress by your faith.” The history relates, that when Paul came out of Mace- donia to Athens, Silas and Timothy stayed behind at Berea. “The brethren sent away Paul, to go as it were to the sea; but Silas and Timotheus abode there still. And they that conducted Paul brought him unto Athens.” Acts 17:14, 15. The history further relates, that after Paul had tarried some time at Athens, and had proceeded from thence to Corinth,FIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 461 while he was exercising his ministry in that city, Silas and Timothy came to him from Macedonia. Acts 18:5. But to reconcile the history with the clause in the epistle which makes St. Paul say, ‘I thought it good to be left at Athens alone, and to send Timothy unto you,” it is necessary to sup- pose that Timothy had come up with St. Paul at Athens— a circumstance which the history does not mention. I re- mark, therefore, that although the history does not expressly notice this arrival, yet it contains intimations which render it extremely probable that the fact took place. First, as soon as Paul had reached Athens, he sent a message back to Silas and Timothy, “for to come to him with all speed.” Acts 17:15. Secondly, his stay at Athens was on purpose that they might join him there. ‘ Now, while Paul zrazted for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred in him.” Acts 17:16. Thirdly, his departure from Athens does not appear to have been in any sort hastened or abrupt. It is’said, ‘after these things,” namely, his disputation with the Jews, his conferences with the philosophers, his discourse at Are- opagus, and the gaining of some converts, ‘‘ he departed from Athens, and came to Corinth.” It is not hinted that he quitted Athens before the time that he had intended to leave it; it is not suggested that he was driven from thence, as he was from many cities, by tumults or persecutions, or be- cause his life was no longer safe. Observe then the partic- ulars which the history does notice—that Paul had ordered Timothy to follow him without delay, that he waited at Athens on purpose that Timothy might come up with him, that he stayed there as long as his own choice led him to continue. Laying these circumstances which the history does disclose together, it is highly probable that Timothy came to the apostle at Athens; a fact which the epistle, we have seen, virtually asserts, when it makes Paul send Timothy back from Athens to Thessalonica. The sending back of Timothy into Macedonia accounts also for his not coming to Corinth till after Paul had been fixed in that city OO Fw Foe Baetoankeers a yee Pe et et es ee ee ee Ogi boc bibbageeeseeelseshs Gl Piasdasesate rsocr i tech teehee Se eee rer ee eee ee eee ee ee ee ede emak $2 sel hehe a ee cece eck Ae eS ne wea Sia ee i oe ee Le he ney Eee ee or eee Oe ie eee a 162 HORA PAULIN &. for some considerable time. Paul had found out Aquila and Priscilla, abode with them and wrought, being of the same craft; and reasoned in the synagogue every Sabbath-day, and persuaded the Jews and the Greeks. Acts 18: 1-6. All this passed at Corinth before Silas and Timotheus were come from Macedonia. Acts 18:5. If this was the first time of their coming up with him after their separation at Berea, there is nothing to account for a delay so contrary to what appears from the history itself to have been St. Paul’s plan and expectation. This is a conformity of a peculiar species. The epistle discloses a fact which is not preserved in the history, but which makes what is said in the history more significant, probable, and consistent. The history bears marks of an omission; the epistle by reference furnishes a circumstance which supphes that omission. V. Chap. 2:14: ‘For ye, brethren, became followers of the churches of God which in Judea are in Christ Jesus ; for ye also have suffered lke things of your own country- men, even as they have of the Jews.” To a reader of the Acts of the Apostles it might seem, at first sight, that the persecutions which the preachers and converts of Christianity underwent, were suffered at the hands of their old adversaries the Jews. But if we attend sarefully to the accounts there delivered, we shall observe that, though the opposition made to the gospel usually orzg- enated from the enmity of the Jews, yet, in almost all places, the Jews went about to accomplish their purpose by stirring o up the Gentile inhabitants against their converted country- men. Out of Judea they had not power to do much mischief in any other way. This was the case at Thessalonica in particular: “The Jews which believed not. moved with envy, set all the city in an uproar.” Acts 17:5. It was the same a short time afterwards at Berea: ‘‘ When the Jews of Thessalonica had knowledge that the word of God was preached of Paul at Berea, they came thither also, and stirred up the people.” Acts 17:13. And before this, ourFIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 163 apostle had met with a like species of persecution, in his progress through the Lesser Asia: in every city “the unbe- heving Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil-affected against the brethren.” Acts14:2. The epis- tle therefore represents the case accurately as the history states it. It was the Jews always who set on foot the per- secutions against the apostles and their followers. He speaks truly therefore of them, when he says in the epistle, they ‘‘ both killed the Lord Jesus and their own prophets, and have persecuted us; forbidding us to speak unto the Gen- ties. Chanu2 15,16. But out of Judea it was at the hands of the Gentiles, it was “of their own countrymen,” that the injuries they underwent were immediately sustain- ed: ‘Ye have suffered like things of your own countrymen, even as they have of the Jews.” VI. The apparent discrepancies between our epistle and the history, though of magnitude sufficient to repel the im- putation of confederacy or transcription—in which view they form a part of our argument—are neither numerous nor very difficult to reconcile. One of these may be observed in the ninth and tenth verses of the second chapter: ‘‘ For ye remember, brethren, our labor and travail: for laboring night and day, because we would not be chargeable unto any of you, we preached unto you the gospel of God. Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily, and justly, and unblamably we behaved ourselves among you that believe.” A person who reads this passage is naturally led by it to suppose that the writer had dwelt at Thessalonica for some considerable time ; yet of St. Paul’s ministry in that city the history gives no other account than the following : that ‘‘ he came to Thessalonica, where was a synagogue of the Jews; that, “as his man- ner was,’ he ‘‘ went in unto them, and three Sabbath-days reasoned with them out of the Scriptures ;” that “some of them believed, and consorted with Paul and Silas.’”’ The history then proceeds to tell us that the Jews which believ- eee tes Toes re ee ee a ee ee ee ee Re Pe eee eee ee ee ee ae ee) ee ea ri E F "i 4 4 etsy é eS ee ee - s p i ee ee a es Cd a al ee ee eee ee ee ee ee ,eee ee tate a 3 aD ee ee ihe ee ke he ee eS oe eee ere el et Tree ees eae eee rs ee ee te Pore ee ee ee es dl 164 HORE PAULINA. ed not set the city in an uproar, and assaulted the house of Jason, where Paul and his companions lodged; that the consequence of this outrage was, that “the brethren imme- diately sent away Paul and Silas by night unto Berea.” Acts 17:1-10. From the mention of his preaching three Sabbath-days in the Jewish synagogue, and from the want of any further specification of his ministry, it has usually been taken for granted that Paul did not continue at Thes- salonica more than three weeks. This, however, is inferred without necessity. It appears to have been St. Paul’s prac- tice, in almost every place that he came to, upon his first arrival to repair to the synagogue. He thought himself bound to propose the gospel to the Jews first, agreeably to what he declared at Antioch in Pisidia: ‘‘ It was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to you.” Acts 13:46. If the Jews rejected his ministry, he quitted the synagogue and betook himself to a Gentile audience. At Corinth, upon his first eoming there, he reasoned in the synagogue every Sabbath; ‘“‘but when the Jews opposed themselves, and blasphemed,” he departed thence, expressly telling them, “ From henceforth I will go unto the Gentiles ;” and he remained in that eity ‘‘a year and six months.” Acts 18: 6-11. At Ephesus, in like manner, for the space of three months he went into the synagogue ; but “‘ when divers were hardened, and believed not, but spake evil of that way before the multitude, he departed from them, and separated the disciples, disputing daily in the school of one Tyrannus. And this continued by the space of two years.” Acts 19:9, 10. Upon inspecting the history, | see nothing in it which negatives the supposition that St. Paul pursued the same plan at Thessalonica which he adopted m other places ; and that, though he resorted to the synagogue only three Sabbath- days, yet he remained in the city and in the exercise of his ministry among the Gentile citizens much longer ; and until the success of his preaching had provoked the Jews to excite the tumult and insurrection by which he was driven away.FIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 165 Another seeming discrepancy is found in the ninth verse of the first chapter of the epistle: ‘For they themselves show of us what manner of entering in we had unto you, and how ye turned to God from idols, to serve the living and true God.” This text contains an assertion that, by means of St. Paul’s ministry at Thessalonica, many idola- trous Gentiles had been brought over to Christianity. Yet the history, in describing the effects of that ministry, only says, that “‘some of them,” the Jews, “believed, and con- sorted with Paul and Silas; and of the devout Greeks a great multitude, and of the chief women not a few.” Chap. 17:4. The devout Greeks were those who already worship- ped the one true God; and therefore could not be said, by embracing Christianity, “to be turned to God from idols.” This is the difficulty. The answer may be assisted by the following observations. The Alexandrine and Cam- bridge manuscripts read, for rév cePopévev "EAAQvav road KAHVoC, TOV o€Pouévav Ka ‘EAARVaYv Todd rAipVos: in which reading they are also confirmed by the Vulgate Latin. And this reading is, in my opinion, strongly supported by the considerations, first, that of ceBouévo: alone, that is, without ‘EAAjvec, is used in this sense in the same chapter—Paul being come to Athens, OueAéyeTO EV TH OvvayoyH Toi¢ "lovdaiow Kas Toig cEBouévoug secondly, that ceBouévor and ‘EAAAvec NOWhere come together. The expression is redundant. The oi ceBouévoe. must be ‘EAAgvec. Thirdly, that the «at is much more likely to have been left out, excurtéd manus, than to have been put in. Or, after all, if we be not allowed to change the present reading, which is undoubtedly retained by a great plurality of copies, may not the passage in the history be considered as describing only the eflects of St. Paul’s discourses during the three Sabbath-days in which he preached in the syna- gogue? And may it not be true, as we have remarked above, that his application to the Gentiles at large, and his success among them, were posterior to this? Pree? 7 eet ee Pere ees SR LS ER ES eet ee Pk ee ee Se el eta kT ke a i rl SITES 4 ee Ge ee ee eee ee eee ee ee AN a cle ial el * ee ee ee eere ot See cee aloe eee oo ee eo it ioc. teehee ied lt et Pee) Sl Dae 3 ets ilk ai font Eee ee ee Se ee ee = SLD Meee ee ee ee he ee ee ea ee ee d HORA PAULINA. CE AR TEs X; THE SECOND EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. I. Ir may seem odd to allege obscurity itself as an ar- gument, or to draw a proof in favor of a writing from that which is naturally considered as the principal defect in its composition. The present epistle, however, furnishes a pas- sage hitherto unexplained, and probably inexplicable by us, the existence of which, under the darkness and difficulties that attend it, can be accounted for only by the supposition of the epistle bemg genuine; and upon that supposition is accounted for with great ease. The passage which I-allude to is found in the second chapter: “That day shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped ; so that he, as God, sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God. Remember ye not, that WHEN I was YET WITH you, | TOLD you THESE THINGS? And now ye know what withholdeth that he might be re- vealed in his tume. For the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who now letieth will let, until he be taken out of the way. And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming.” It were superfluous to prove, because it is in vain to deny, that this passage is involved in great obscurity, more espec- ially the clauses distinguished by italics. Now the obser- vation | have to ofler is founded upon this, that the passage expressly refers to a conversation which the author had pre- viously holden with the Thessalonians upon the same sub- ject: “‘Remember ye not, that when I was yet with you, L told you these things? And now ye know what.with- holdeth.” If such conversation actually passed—if, while “he was yet with them, he ¢o/d them those things,” thenSECOND EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 167 it follows that the epistle is authentic. And of the reality of this conversation it appears to be a proof, that what is said in the epistle might be understood by those who had been present at such conversation, and yet be incapable of being explained by any other. No man writes unintelligibly on purpose. But it may easily happen, that a part of a letter which relates to a subject upon which the parties had conversed together before, which refers to what had been before sazd, which is in truth a portion or continuation of a former discourse, may be utterly without meaning to a stranger who should pick up the letter upon the road, and yet be perfectly clear to the person to whom it is directed, and with whom the previous communication’ had passed. And if, in a letter which thus accidentally fell into my hands, I found a passage expressly referring to a former conversation, and difficult to be explained without knowing that conversation, | should consider this very difficulty as a proof that the conversation had actually passed, and conse- quently that the letter contained the real correspondence of real persons: | IJ. Chap. 3:8,9: ‘ Neither did we eat any man’s bread for naught; but wrought with labor and travail night and day, that we might not be chargeable to any of you: not because we have not power, but to make ourselves an en- sample unto you to follow us.” In a letter purporting to have been written to another of the Macedonian churches, we find the following declaration : “Now ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me, as concerning giving and receiv- ing, but ye only.” The conformity between these two passages is strong and plain. They confine the transaction to the same period. The epistle to the Philippians refers to what passed ‘‘in the beginning of the gospel,” that is to say, durmg the first preaching of the gospel on that side of the Aigean sea ere et fee ere ee ee ees eee eee yes eee re ee Cee eee ee ee 4 nen mab pier cence, Be ee 2 ee se ee ee ae eee ee ee ee ee a =e ee oe ee eeCree et ts eee ee? oo PPe Petar el ee teyeestet sg = ny lh ieee ee eed eee Be ee ae he ee ed es ue ee eee ‘SHES BP Re Pee OE Le Pe Se ra ee eek ep ee aa es i; Yu 168 HORA PAULIN &. The epistle to the Thessalonians speaks of the apostle’s con- duct in that city upon ‘his first entrance in unto them,” which the history informs us was in the course of his first visit to the peninsula of Greece. As St. Paul tells the Philippians, that “no church com- municated with him, as concerning giving and receiving, but they only,” he could not, consistently with the truth of this declaration, have received any thing from the neighbor- ing church of Thessalonica. What thus appears by general o g implication in an epistle to another church, when he writes to the Thessalonians themselves, is noticed expressly and particularly : ‘‘ Neither did we eat any man’s bread for naught ; but wrought night and day, that we might not be chargeable to any of you.” The texts here cited further also exhibit a mark of con- formity with what St. Paul is made to say of himself in the Acts of the Apostles. The apostle not only reminds the Thessalonians that he had not been chargeable to any of them, but he states likewise the motive which dictated this reserve: ‘‘ Not because we have not power, but to make our- selves an ensample unto you to follow us.” Chap. 3:9. This conduct, and what is much more precise, the end which he had in view by it, was the very same as that which the history attributes to St. Paul in a discourse which it represents him to have addressed to the elders of the church of Ephesus: ‘“ Yea, ye yourselves know, that these hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me. I have showed you all thines, how that so D; o laboring ye ought to support the weak.” Acts 20:34. The sentiment in the epistle and in the speech is in both parts of it so much alike, and yet the words which convey it show so little of imitation or even of resemblance, that the agree- ment cannot well be explained without supposing the speech and the letter to have really proceeded from the same person. III. Our reader remembers the passage in the first epistle to the Thessalonians, in which St. Paul spoke of theSECOND EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 169 coming of Christ: “This we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ shall rise ‘first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord. But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief.” 1 Thess. 4:15-17; 5:4. It should seem that the Thessalonians, or some however among them, had from this passage conceived an opimon—and that not very unnatural- ly—that the coming of Christ was to take place instantly, dre évéornxev >* and that this persuasion had produced, as it well might, much agitation in the church. The apostle therefore now writes, among other purposes, to quiet this alarm and to rectify the misconstruction that had been put upon his words : ‘‘ Now we beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto him, that ye be not soon shaken in mind, or be troubled, neither by spirit, nor by word, nor by letter as from us, as that the day of Christ is at hand.” If the allusion which we contend for be admitted, namely, if it be admitted that the passage in the second epistle relates to the passage in the first, it amounts to a considerable proof of the genuine- ness of both epistles. I have no conception, because | know no example, of such a device in a forgery, as first to frame an ambiguous passage in a letter, then to represent the persons to whom the letter is addressed as mistaking the meaning of the passage, and lastly, to write a second letter in order to correct this mistake. I have said that this argument arises out of the text, 2f * “*Or. évéotnkev, nempe hoe anno,’’ namely, in this year, says Grotius; ‘‘évéorykev hic dicitur de re presenti, ut Rom. 8:38; 1 Cor. aoe Galt :4; Heb. 9:9’’—it is here used in reference to some- thing present, as in Rom. 8: 38, etc. eet ee tS Pa ee ee ee ee ee ee ee SPSP ete ee Pert eee ry eros pee Pete Et Sees seee oe Ce ee C ae eek oe be oe ee ee Se ee oe oe ae SD ee ed ee Se eRet ee ee ed (a ee ke s ee eh ee ee ee ee ee 3 ee eee a Be J 170 THOR 26 PAA eNews the allusion be admitted; for 1 am not ignorant that many expositors understand the passage in the second epistle as referring to some forged letters which had been produced in St. Paul’s name, and in which the apostle had been made to say that the coming of Christ was then at hand. In defence, however, of the explanation which we propose, the reader is desired to observe, 1. The strong fact, that there exists a passage in the first epistle to which that in the second is capable of being referred, that is, which accounts for the error the writer is solicitous to remove. Had no other epistle than the second been extant, and had it under these circumstances come to be considered, whether the text before us related to a forged epistle or to some misconstruction of a true one, many con- jectures and many probabilities might have been admitted in the inquiry, which can have little weight when an epistle is produced containing the very sort of passage we were seek- ing, that is, a passage liable to the misinterpretation which the apostle protests against. 2. That the clause which introduces the passages in the second epistle bears a particular affinity to what is found in the passage cited from the first epistle. The clause is this: ‘““We beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto him.” Now, in the first epistle the description of the coming of Christ is accompanied with the mention of this very circumstance of his saints being collected round him: “ The Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and re- main shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord-in the air.’ 1 Thess. 4:16, 17. “This I suppose to be the “gathering together unto him,” intended in the second epistle; and that the author, when he used these words, retained in his thoughts what he had written on the subject before.SECOND EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS.171 3. The second epistle is written in the joit name of Paul, Silvanus, and Timotheus, and it cautions the Thessa- lonians against being misled ‘‘by letter as from us,” a¢ dv juav. Do not these words, sv quar, appropriate the reference to some writing which bore the name of these three teach- ers? Now this circumstance, which is a very close one, belongs to the epistle at present in our hands; for the epis- tle which we call the First Epistle to the Thessalonians con- tains these names in its superscription. 4. The words in the original, as far as they are material to be stated, are these: éic 76 un Taxéwe oahevSivar bude ard Tov vooe, uATe SporiaSal, pate dua Trebdpatoc, UATE dua AOyov, uATE Ov ExLOTO- Ane, o¢ 0’ nudr, ag OTe evéotHKEev 4 HEPA TOV XptoTov. Under the weight of the preceding observations, may not the words unre 01d Abyou, uATe Ov EmtoTOARs, w¢ OV HuUGY, be construed to signify guast nos quid tale aut dixerimus aut scripserimus,* inti- mating that their words had been mistaken, and that they had in truth said or written no such thing ? * Should a contrary interpretation be preferred, I do not think that it implies the conclusion that a false epistle had then been published in the apostle’s name. It will completely satisfy the allusion in the text to allow, that some one or other at Thessalonica had pretended to have been told by St. Paul and his companions, or to have seen a letter from them, in which they had said that the day of Christ was at hand. In like manner as, Acts 15:1, 24, it is recorded, that some had pretended to have received instructions from the church of Je- rusalem, which had been received, ‘‘to whom they gave no such commandment.” And thus Dr. Benson interpreted the passage pyre Ypoeiobal, ute dud mvEvLATOS, unre dua Aoyov, pate Ov éxtatoAne w¢ Ov nuav, “nor be dismayed by any revelation, or discourse, or epistle,- which any one shall pretend to have heard or received from us.” gseseseegy eset fupig besa es daese ese eedesa nd gZetees ee ee ee ed eo rs SSE < FL pigs aekaserte ve Oe ne ee ee ee ee rsPSToer reo rs De ed ob ta ed eo Srna. ot ek et eee he Le eee ees ee eo he Pee PSs ep ee erase saws a ey ed ee te ee es eee eee ees ll HORA PAULINA. CHAPTER XT. PRE FIRSD EPISTLE TO TEMOs by. From the third verse of the first chapter, “As I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus, when I went into Macedonia,” it is evident that this epistle was written soon after St. Paul had gone to Macedonia from Ephesus. Dr. Benson fixes its date to the time of St. Paul’s journey recorded in the begin- ning of the twentieth chapter of the Acts: ‘And after the uproar” excited by Demetrius at Ephesus “ was ceased, Paul called unto him the disciples, and embraced them, and de- parted for to go into Macedonia.” And in this opinion Dr: Benson is followed by Michaelis, as he was preceded by the greater part of the commentators who have considered the question. There is, however, one objection to the hypothesis, which these learned men appear to me to have overlooked ; and it is no other than this, that the superscription of the second epistle to the Corithians seems to prove, that at the time St. Paul is supposed by them to have written this epistle to Timothy, Timothy in truth was with St. Paul in Macedonia. Paul, as it is related in the Acts, left Ephesus “for to go into Macedonia.” When he had got into Mace- donia he wrote his second epistle to the Corinthians. Con- cerning this point there exists little variety of opinion. It is plainly indicated by the contents of the epistle. It 1s also strongly implied, that the epistle was written soon after the apostle’s arrival in Macedonia ; for he begins his letter by a train of reflection, referring to his persecutions in Asia as to recent transactions, as to dangers from which he had lately been delivered. But in the salutation with which the epis- tle opens, Tvmothy was joined with St. Paul, and conse- quently could not at that time be “left behind at Ephesus.” And as to the only solution of the difficulty which can be thought of, namely, that Timothy, though he was left behind at Ephesus upon St. Paul’s departure from Asia, yet might follow him so soon after as to come up with the apostle inPIRST EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 173s Macedonia, before he wrote his epistle to the Corinthians, that supposition is inconsistent with the terms and tenor of the epistle throughout ; for the writer speaks uniformly of his intention to return to Timothy at Ephesus, and not of his expecting Timothy to come to him in Macedonia: “These things write I unto thee, hoping to come unto thee shortly: but if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself in the house of G od. «Chap. 3:14, 15. “ Till I come, give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine.” Chap. 4:13. Since, therefore, the leaving of Timothy behind at Ephe- sus when Paul went into Macedonia, suits not with any journey into Macedonia recorded in the Acts, I concur with Bishop Pearson in placing the date of this epistle and the journey referred to in it, at a period subsequent to St. Paul's first imprisonment at Rome, and consequently subsequent to the era up to which the Acts of the Apostles brings his his- tory. The only difficulty which attends our opinion is, that St. Paul must, according to us, have come to Ephesus after his liberation at Rome, contrary, as it should seem, to what he foretold to the Ephesian elders, that ‘“‘ they should see his face no more.” And it is to save the infallibility of this prediction, and for no other reason of weight, that an earlier date is assigned to this epistle. The prediction itself, how- ever, when considered in connection with the circumstances under which it was delivered, does not seem to demand so much anxiety. The words in question are found in the twenty-fifth verse of the twentieth chapter of the Acts: “And now, behold, I know that ye all, among whom I have gone preaching the kinedom of God, shall see my face no more.” In the twenty-secdnd and twenty-third verses of the same chapter, that is, two verses before, the apostle makes this declaration: “And now, behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there: save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying, that bonds and afflictions abide me.” This PEeeee se Se Pee eee ee ee eee ee re re Tee ee TT ee Te ees Tee R re Ee ees ee ee eee eee ee eT yt. eee eS ee ee ee eee ee ee Pe ee ee3 a ePeheserersderel ¢ ee es SESE EM Bim Soe te eee ee eee ee ee LbbyePse eo beteyveessor gan iy SE Re cede Boel aa ee ee Te ee eet b i 174 HORA PAULIN &. ‘witnessing of the Holy Ghost’’ was undoubtedly prophetic and supernatural. But it went no further than to foretell that bonds and afflictions awaited him. And I can very well conceive, that this might be-all which was communi- cated to the apostle by extraordinary revelation, and that the rest was the conclusion of his own mind, the desponding inference which he drew from strong and repeated intima- tions of approaching danger. And the expression ‘I know,” which St. Paul here uses, does not perhaps, when applied to future events aflecting himself, convey an assertion so positive and absolute as we may at first sight apprehend. In the first chapter of the epistle to the Philippians, and the twenty-fifth verse, ‘I know,” says he, “that I shall abide and continue with you all for your furtherance and joy of faith.” Notwithstanding this strong declaration, in the sec- ond chapter and twenty-third and twenty-fourth verses of this same epistle, and speaking also of the very same event, he is content to use a language of some doubt and uncer- tamty: ‘Him therefore I hope to send presently, so soon as L shall see how tt will go with me. But I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly.” And a few verses preceding these, he not only seems to doubt of his safety, but almost to despair; to contemplate the possibility at least of his condemnation and martyrdom: ‘Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all.” I. But can we show that St. Paul visited Ephesus after his liberation at Rome; or rather, can we collect any hints from his other letters which make it probable that he did ? If we can, then we have a coincidence; if we cannot, we have only an unauthorized supposition, to which the exi- gency of the case compels us to resort. Now, for this pur- pose, let us examine the epistle to the Philippians and the epistle to Philemon. These two epistles purport to be writ- ten while St. Paul was yet a prisoner at Rome. To the Philippians he writes as follows: ‘I trust in the Lord that1 FIRST EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 17¢ I also myself shall come shortly.’ To Philemon, who was a Colossian, he gives this direction: ‘‘ But withal prepare me also a lodging: for I trust that through your prayers I shall be given unto you.” An inspection of the map will show us that Colosse was a city of the Lesser Asia, lying eastward and at no great distance from Ephesus. Philippi was on the other, that is, the western side of the Augean sea. If the apostle executed his purpose—if, in pursuance of the intention expressed in his letter to Philemon, he came to Colosse soon after he was set at liberty at Rome, it 1s very improbable that he would omit to visit Ephesus, which lay so near to it, and where he had spent three years of his min- istry. As he was also under a promise to the church of Philippi to see them ‘“ shortly,” if he passed from Colosse to Philippi, or from Philippi to Colosse, he could hardly avoid taking Ephesus in his way. Lh, Chap: 5%: 9 +: “Let, not a. widow be taken into the number under threescore years old.” . This accords with the account delivered in the sixth chapter of the Acts: ‘‘And in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the Grecians against the Hebrews, because their widows were neglected in the daily ministration.” It appears that from the first formation of the Christian church, provision was made out of the public funds of the society for the indi- cent widows who belonged to it. The history, we have seen, distinctly records the existence of such an institution at Jerusalem-a few years after our Lord’s ascension, and 1s led to the mention of it very incidentally ; namely, by a dis- pute of which it was the occasion, and which produced im- portant consequences to the Christian community. The epistle, without being suspected of borrowing from the his- tory, refers, briefly indeed, but decisively, to a similar estab- lishment subsisting some years afterwards at Ephesus. This agreement indicates that both writings were founded upon real circumstances. é ye 7 : : et eee . 5 2 Fe 7 | wos Pe ry or ERLE EE ETIS Pot iaes PL ees Chee eT Pet TTT a eee) Pee ee Tir rt rity aie baie d, wy meds Wa ao ee ala re e e" ae. ee ee ee eedl a te eee es ee et * ad i SeRevetetet ge niy ts ces te a ent de ee ee ee eT Pee oe ee ed et es eet. eet er — Ct EOS Sek ee ee eee ee ee 176 HORZ PAULINE. But in this article, the material thing to be noticed is the mode of expression, “Let not a widow be taken into the number.” No previous account or explanation is given, to which these words, “into the number,” can refer; but the direction comes concisely and unpreparedly, “Let not a widow be taken into the number.’ Now, this is the way in which a man writes who is conscious that he is writing > to persons already acquainted with the subject of his letter, and who he knows will readily apprehend and apply what he says by virtue of their being so acquainted ; but it is not the way in which a man writes upon any other occasion, and least of all, in which a man would draw up a feigned letter, or introduce a supposititious fact.* * It is not altogether unconnected with our general purpose to remark, in the passage before us, the selection and reserve which St. Paul recommends to the governors of the church of Ephesus in the bestowing relief upon the poor, because it refutes a calumny which has been insinuated, that the liberality of the first Christians was an artifice to catch converts, or one of the temptations, however, by which the idle and mendicant were drawn into this society: ‘‘ Let not a widow be taken into the number under threescore years old, having been the wife of one man, well reported of for good works; if she have brought up chiidren, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the saints’ feet, if she have relieved the afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work. But the younger widows refuse.’? Ch.5:9, 10, 11. And in another place, ‘‘If any man or woman that believeth have widows, let them relieve them, and let not the church be charged; that it may relieve them that are widows indeed.’”? And to the same effect, or rather more to our present purpose, the apostle writes in the second epistle to the Thessalonians, ‘‘ Even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat,’”’ that is, at the public expense. ‘‘For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread.’’ Could a designing or dissolute poor take advantage of bounty regulated with so much caution; or could the mind which dic- tated those sober and prudent directions be influenced, in his recom- mendations of public charity, by any other than-properest motives of beneficence ?PIRST BRPISTLERN TOC TiImorey. 177 Ill. Chap. 3:2, 3: “A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behavior, given to hospitality, apt to teach; not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre; but patient; not a brawl- er, not covetous; one that ruleth well his own house.” ‘““ No striker:” that is the article which I single out from the collection, as evincing the antiquity at least, if not the genuineness of the epistle, because it is an article which no man would have made the subject of caution who lived in an advanced era of the church. It agreed with the in- fancy of the society, and with no other state of it. After the government of the church had acquired the dignified form which it soon and naturally assumed, this injunction could have no place. Would a person who lived under a hierar- chy, such as the Christian hierarchy became when it had settled into a regular establishment, have thought it neces- sary to prescribe concerning the qualification of a bishop, that ‘he should be no striker?” And this injunction would be equally alien from the imagination of the writer, whéther he wrote in his own character, or personated that of an apostle. IV. Chap. 5:23: “Dmnk no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake, and thine often infirmi- ties.” Imagine an impostor sitting down to forge an epistle in the name of St. Paul. Is it credible that it should come into his head to give such a direction as this; so remote from every thing of doctrine or discipline, every thing of public concern to the religion or the church, or to any sect, order, or party in it, and from every purpose with which such an epistle could be written? It seems to me, that nothing but reality, that is, the real valetudinary situation of a real person, could have suggested a thought of so domes- tic a nature. But if the peculiarity of the advice be observable, the place in which it stands is more so. The context is this: Hore Paul, Dies eye TCT Tee eee eee eter eS Fo a Torre eee rere ee ee se Re ee eee ee ee ee 2 ee Ce at tt eld oe ee ee ee ee eeHORA PAULINE. 178 “Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of 4 other men’s sins: keep thyself pure. Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake, and thine often infirmities. SSome men’s sins are open beforehand, going fi before to judgment; and some men they follow after.”’ The : Hare | direction to Timothy about his diet stands between two sen- : t : iC tences, as wide from the subject as possible. The train of thought seems to be broken to let it in. Now, when does ret te eee eS ear. ee ee this happen? It happens when a man writes as he remem- bers; when he puts down an article the moment that it occurs, lest he should afterwards forget it. Of this, the pas- sage before us bears strongly the appearance. In actual letters, in the negligence of real correspondence, examples of this kind frequently take place ; seldom, I believe, in any Bit ee teh ee ee See ol ery other production. For, the moment a man regards what he writes as a composition, which the author of a forgery Cd ed ed would of all writers be the first to do, notions of order in the arrangement and succession of his thoughts present them- selves to his judgement and guide his pen. Y. Uhap 13316,-16; “This is. a faithful sayings, and worthy of all acceptation, that Chnst Jesus came into the Se er world to save sinners; of whom I am chief. Howbeit, for ee this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all long-suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter beleve on him to hfe everlasting.” What was the mercy which St. Paul here commemo- rates, and what was the crime of which he accuses himself, CS ee ee ee ee is apparent from the verses immediately preceding: “I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry ; who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious : but I obtamed mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbe- q ef.” Ver. 12, 13. The whole quotation plainly refers to St. Paul’s original enmity to the Christian name, the inter- oh ee ee ee = position of Providence in his conversion, and his subsequent eee eth ra designation to the ministry of the gospel; and by this refer-FIRST BPASTEE TO SIMOTHY. if ence affirms indeed the substance of the apostle’s history delivered in the Acts. But what in the passage strikes my mind most powerfully, is the observation that is raised out of the fact: ‘For this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all long-suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting.” It is a just and solemn reflection, springing from the circumstances of the author’s conversion, or rather from the impression which that great event had left upon his memory. It will be said, perhaps, that an impostor acquainted with St. Paul’s history may have put such a sentiment into his mouth; or, what is the same thing, into a letter drawn up in his name. But where, we may ask, is such an impostor to be found? The piety, the truth, the benevolence of the thought ought to protect it from this imputation. For though we should allow that one of the great masters of the ancient tragedy could have given to his scene a sentiment as virtuous and as elevated as this is, and at the same time as appropriate, and as well suited to the particular situation of the person who delivers it; yet who- ever is conversant in these inquiries will acknowledge, that to do this in a fictitious production is, beyond the reach of the understandings which have been employed upon any fabrications that have come down to us under Christian names. Leet ees eee eee ree ee ee ee eee eee ee oct Toes ee ee Sees e Ore a ee ee ee | Girt men ones Sho oes Soe eae eee pet Se ee Pe: TeteToy ee eTa te ee ee SPREP SPP e eS Se Peyves estes eo iy eS ee ee ee eee re ee eee ae a ee ee S2tetreeo re ioe Seth ot ee ee ee ee d HOR # PAULIN ZA. CHOAPAE RAXTt, THE SECOND EPISTLE, TO. TIMOTHY. I. Ir was the uniform tradition of the primitive church, that St. Paul visited Rome twice, and twice there suffered imprisonment ; and that he was put to death at Rome at the conclusion of his second imprisonment. This opinion concerning St. Paul’s ¢zvo journeys to Rome is confirmed. by a great variety of hints and allusions in the epistle before us, compared with what fell from the apostle’s pen in other let- ters purporting to have been written from Rome. That our present epistle was written while St. Paul was a prisoner, is distinctly intimated by the eighth verse of the first chap- ter: ‘Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me his prisoner.”’ And while he was a prisoner at Rome, by the sixteenth and seventeenth verses of the same chapter: ‘‘ The Lord give mercy unto the house of Onesiphorus ; for he oft refreshed me, and was not ashamed of my chain: but, when he was in Rome, he sought me out very diligently, and found me.’’ Since it appears from the former quotation that St. Paul wrote this epistle in confine- ment, it will hardly admit of doubt that the word chain, in the chain the latter quotation, refers to that confinement by which he was then bound, the custody in which he was then kept. And if the word ‘ chain” designate the author’s confinement at the time of writing the epistle, the next words determine it to have been written from Rome: ‘‘ He was not ashamed of my chain; but, when he was in Rome, he sought me out very diligently.” Now that it was not written dur- ing the apostle’s first imprisonment at Rome, or during the same imprisonment in which the epistles to the Ephesians, the Colossians, the Philippians, and Philemon were written, may be gathered, with considerable evidence, from a compar- ison of these several epistles with the present. |. In the former epistles, the author confidently lookedSECOND-EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 151 forward to his liberation from confinement, and his speedy departure from Rome. He tells the Philippians, chap. 2: 24, “J trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly.” Philemon he bids to prepare for him a lodging; “ for I trust,” says he, ‘‘that through your prayers I shall be given unto you.” Ver. 22. In the epistle before us, he holds a lan- euage extremely different: “1 am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 1 have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.” Chap. 4:: 6-8. 2. When the former epistles were written from Rome, Timothy was with St. Paul; and is joined with him in writ- ing to the Colossians, the Plulppians, and to Philemon. The present epistle implies that he was absent. 3. In the former epistles, Demas was with St. Paul at Rome: “Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas greet you.” In the epistle now before us: ‘‘ Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world, and is departed unto Thessalonica. ” 4. In the former epistles; Mark was with St. Paul, and joins. in saluting the Colossians. In the present epistle, Timothy is ordered to bring him with him, “for he is prof- itable to me for the ministry.” Chap 4:11. The case of Timothy and of Mark might be very well accounted for, by supposing the present epistle to have been written before the others; so that Timothy, who is here exhorted “to come shortly unto him,” chap. 4:9, might have arrived, and that Mark, “whom he was to bring with him,” chap. 4:11, might have also reached Rome in sufli- cient time to have been with St. Paul when the four epistles were written; but then such a supposition is inconsistent with what is said of Demas, by which the posteriority of this to the other epistles is strongly indicated: for in the other epistles Demas was with St. Paul; in the present he has eee es ee ere ee eC eee ee ee Poe ee ee ee a ee oe ee pA ae eR pe alee epee eee ee ee ee ee 2 ee ep ee eS Pe ee ee eeePeel eee te eee eee ne ts ee ee eee eee ee ee ee eT ee ee ee % oe fa pe Roe r Pe ee ee oon he ee ee ee ee ee 182 HORA PAULINA. ‘forsaken him, and is gone to Thessalonica.”’ The opposi- tion also of sentiment, with respect to the event of the per- secution, is hardly reconcilable to the same imprisonment. The two following considerations, which were first sug- gested upon this question by Ludovicus Capellus, are still more conclusive : 1. In the twentieth verse of the fourth chapter, St. Paul informs Timothy, that ‘‘ Erastus abode at Corinth,” *Epacro¢ éuewvev év Kopivdy. The form of expression implies, that Eras- tus had stayed behind at Corinth when St. Paul left it. But this could not be meant of any journey from Corinth which St. Paul took prior to his first imprisonment at Rome ; for when Paul departed from Corinth, as related in the twentieth chapter of the Acts, Timothy was with him: and this was the last time the apostle left Corinth before his coming to Rome, because he left it to proceed on his way to Jerusalem; soon after his arrival at which place he was taken into custody, and continued in that custody till he was carried to Cesar’s tribunal. There could be no need, there- fore, to inform Timothy that ‘Erastus stayed behind at Cor- inth”’ upon this occasion, because if the fact were so, 1t must have been known to Timothy, who was present, as well.as to St. Paul. 2. In the same verse our epistle also states the following article: “ Trophimus have I left at Miletum sick.” When St. Paul passed through Miletum on his way to Jerusalem, as related Acts 20, 21, Trophimus was not left behind, but accompanied him to that city. He was indeed the occasion of the uproar at Jerusalem in consequence of which St. Paul was apprehended ; ‘for they had seen,” says the historian, ‘‘ before with him in the city Trophimus an Ephesian, whom they supposed that Paul had brought into the temple.”’ This was evidently the last time of Paul’s being at Miletus before his first imprisonment; for, as has been sald, after his apprehension at Jerusalem, he remained in custody till he was sent to Rome.SECOND BPISTEE FO FILOTHY. 183 In these two articles we have a journey referred to, which must have,taken place subsequently to the conclusion of St. Luke’s history, and of course after St. Paul’s liberation from his first imprisonment. The epistle, therefore, which contains this reference, since it appears from other parts of it to have been written while St. Paul was a prisoner at Rome, proves that he had returned to that city again, and undergone there a second imprisonment. I do not produce these particulars for the sake of the support which they lend to the testimony of the fathers con- cerning St. Paul’s second imprisonment, but to remark their consistency and agreement with one another. They are all resolvable into one supposition ; and although the supposi- tion itself be in some sort only negative, namely, that the epistle was not written during St. Paul’s first residence at Rome, but in some future imprisonment in that city, yet 1s the consistency not less worthy of observation ; for the epis- tle touches upon names and circumstances connected with the date and with the history of the first imprisonment, and. mentioned in letters written during that imprisonment, and so touches upon them as to leave what is said of one con- what is said of them in different epistles. Had one of these circumstances bean: so described as to have fixed the date of sistent with what is said of others, and consistent also with the epistle to the first imprisonment, it would have involved the rest in contradiction. And when the number and par- ticularity of the articles which have been brought together under this head. are considered, and when it is considered also that the comparisons we have formed among them were in all probability neither provided for, nor thought of, by the writer of the epistle, it will be deemed something very like the effect of truth, that no invincible repugnancy 1s perceived between them. Il. In the Acts of the Apostles, in the sixteenth chapter and at the first verse, we are told that Paul ‘‘came to Derbe and Lystra: and behold, a certain disciple was there, named eeees ? , ‘ eeseaseees types se ye GS bees F Pee ee ee ee | Pee ee ee ee oe ed oe a ee ee Pe ee Se ee eee ee esBk he ht be ee a ee oe td ead dk elk a odie hoe eed eek Eee ee ee ee we ty Eee eee ed et he ee eee ee = cS ee eae tt. Se eee eee ee : rom i 184 HORA PAULING, Timotheus, the son of a certain woman which was a Jew- ess, and believed, but his father was a Greek.’ In the epistle before us, im the first chapter and at the fourth and fifth verses, St. Paul writes to Timothy thus: “Greatly de- siring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears, that I may be filled with joy ; when I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and lam persuaded that in thee also.” Here we have a fair unforeed example of coin- cidepce. In the history, Timothy was the “son of a Jewess that believed :” in the epistle, St. Paul applauds “the faith which dwelt in his mother Eunice.” In the history it is said of the mother, that she “was a Jewess, and believed ae of the father, that he “was a Greek.’”’ Now when it is said of the mother alone, that she ‘believed,’ the father being nevertheless mentioned in the same sentence, we are led to suppose of the father that he did not believe, that is, either that he was dead, or that he remained unconverted. Agreeably hereunto, while praise is bestowed in the epistle upon one parent, and upon her sincerity in the faith, no no- tice is taken of the other. The mention of the grandmother is the addition of a circumstance not found in the history ; but it 1s a circumstance which, as well as the names of the parties, might naturally be expected to.be known to the apostle, though overlooked by his historian. Ill. Chap. 3:15: “And that from a child thou hast known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.” This verse discloses a circumstance which agrees exactly with what is intimated in the quotation from the Acts, ad- duced in the last number. In that quotation it is recorded of Timothy’s mother, that she “was a Jewess.” This de scription is virtually, though, I am satisfied, undesignedly, recognized in the epistle, when Timothy is reminded in it, “that from a child he had known the holy Seriptures.”’ ‘The holy Scriptures” undoubtedly meant the Scriptures ofSECONDIEPESTLE PO TEMOTHY. 185 the Old Testament. The expression bears that sense in every place in which it occurs. Those of the New had not yet acquired the name; not to mention, that in Timothy’s childhood probably none of them existed. In what man- ner then could Timothy have known ‘from a child”’ the Jewish Scriptures, had he not been born, on one side or on both, of Jewish parentage? Perhaps he was not less likely to be carefully instructed in them, for that his mother alone professed that religion. IV. Chap. 2:22: “Flee also youthful lusts; but fol- low righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” “Flee also youthful lusts.’ The suitableness of this precept to the age of the person to whom it is addressed; is gathered from 1 Timothy, 4:12: “Let no man despise thy youth.” Nor do I deem the less of this coincidence because the propriety resides in a single epithet, or because this one precept is jomed with, and followed by a train of -others not more applicable to Timothy than to any ordinary con- vert. It ison these transient and cursory allusions that the argument is best founded. When a writer dwells and rests upon a point in which some coincidence is discerned, it may be doubted whether he himself had not fabricated the con- formity, and was endeavoring to display and set it off. But when the reference is contained in a single word, unobserved perhaps by most readers, the writer passing on to other sub- jects, as unconscious that he had hit upon a correspondency, or unsolicitous whether it were remarked or not, we may be pretty well assured that no fraud was exercised, no imposi- tion intended. Vo r@hape air 10; ae: ‘But thou hast fully known my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, long-suffering, char- ity, patience, persecutions, afflictions, which came unto me at Antioch, at Iconium, at Lystra ; what persecutions I endured: but out of them all the Lord delivered me.” The Antioch here mentioned was not Antioch the capital 93% 23 $e sesese FS So epee Bee Ge TS FS F Eo we Poe ae eee Beg oe er ee ae a se ee Fee yen ee te ene ee ee ae ee ee eee a eS ee ke oY — ese. ee eeoe ee alk ee et nae ree Ty ee ht ba ae ee ee ee ne ee er = at te eee eee ee ee ee a eh ee oD eo ood oe o ee ee ee eS 186 HORA PAULING. of Syria, where Paul and Barnabas resided ‘‘a long time,” but Antioch in Pisidia, to which place Paul and Barnabas came in their first apostolic progress, and where Paul deliv- ered a memorable discourse, which.is preserved in the thir- teenth chapter of the Acts. At this Antioch the history re- lates, that ‘‘the Jews stirred up the devout and honorable women, and the chief men of the city, and raised persecu- tion against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts. But they shook off the dust of their feet against them, and came unto Jcontwm. . . . . And it came to pass in Iconinm, that they went both together into the synagogue of the Jews, and so spake, that a great multitude both of the Jews and also of the Greeks believed. But the unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil-aflected against the brethren. Long time there- fore abode they, speaking boldly in the Lord, which gave testimony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hands. But the multitude of the city was divided; and part held with the Jews, and part with the apostles. And when there was an assault made both of the Gentiles, and also of the Jews with their rulers, to wse them despitefully and ‘to stone them, they were aware of it, and fled unto Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia, and unto the region that lieth round about; and there they preached the gospel... .. And there came thither certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium, who per- suaded the people, and having stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had been dead. Howbeit, as the dis- ciples stood round about him, he rose up, and came into the city; and the next day he departed with Barnabas to Derbe. And when they had preached the gospel to that city, and had taught many, they returned again to Lystra, and to Ico- nium, and to Antioch.” This account comprises the period to which the allusion in the epistle is to be referred. We have so far, therefore, a conformity between the history and the epistle, that St. Paul is asserted in the history to haveSECOND EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 187 suffered persecutions in the three cities, his persecutions at which are appealed to in the epistle ; and not only so, but to have suffered these persecutions both in immediate suc- cession, and in the order in which the cities are mentioned in the epistle. The conformity also extends to another clr- cumstance. In the apostolic history, Lystra and Derbe are commonly mentioned together: in the quotation from the epistle, Lystra is mentioned, and not Derbe. And the dis- tinction will appear on this occasion to be accurate, for St. Paul is here enumerating his persecutions ; and although he underwent grievous persecutions in each of the three cities through which he passed to Derbe, at Derbe itself he met with none: ‘Fhe next day he departed,” says the historian, “to Derbe; and when they had preached the gospel to that city, and had taught many, they returned again to Lystra.” The epistle, therefore, in the names of the cities, in the order in which they are enumerated, and in the place at which the enumeration stops, corresponds exactly with the history. But a second question remains, namely, how these per- secutions were ‘known’ to Timothy, or why the apostle should recall these in particular to his remembrance, rather than many other persecutions with which his ministry had been attended. When some time, probably three years afterwards, (vide Pearson’s “Annales Paulinas,”) St. Paul made a second journey through the same country, “in order to go again and visit the brethren in every city where he had preached the word of the Lord,’’ we read, Acts 16:1, that when “he came to Derbe and Lystra, behold, a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus.”’ One or other, there- fore, of these cities was the place of Timothy’s abode. We read, moreover, that he was well reported of by the brethren that were at Lystra and Iconium; so that he must have been well acquainted with these places. Also again, when Paul came to Derbe and Lystra, Timothy was already a disciple: “* Behold, a. certain disciple was there, named Timotheus.”’ He must therefore have been converted de- Ceres ore ee ee eee Tere eee. rt Tee eer eee er 2 Stale eee ee ee eee ee ee ee a ne ee ae aay ee ae OS ee es ee ee ee re te ee ee ee ee ee oe haePeReCeneoviewas g ee as Ce eo ee ee bs et oo ae re eet eee ee esos it pees coke he eS expressly to the coming of Timotheus from Thessalonica, chap. 3:6; and the history informs us, Acts 18:5, that Timothy came out of Macedonia to St. Paul at Corinth. IV. The second epistle to the Thessalonians is dated, and without any discoverable reason, from Athens also. If terivetegiwcerneasd+ oe? it be truly the second—if it refer, as it appears to do, chap. 2:2, to the first, and the first was written from Corinth, the 3 oe eet Eon place must be erroneously assigned, for the history does notSUBSCRIPTIONS OF THE EPISTLES. 201 allow us to suppose that St. Paul, after he had reached Cor- inth, went back to Athens. V. The first epistle to Timothy the subscription asserts to have been sent from Laodicea ; yet when St. Paul writes, «T besought thee to abide still at Ephesus,” zopeviuevog sig Maxedoviav. “when I set out for Macedonia,” the reader is naturally led to conclude that he wrote the letter upon his arrival in that country. VI. The epistle to Titus is dated from Nicopolis in Mac- edonia, while no city of that name is known to have existed in that province. The use, and the only use which | make of these obser- vations. is to show how easily errors and contradictions steal in. where the writer is not guided by original knowledge. There are only eleven distinct assionments of date to St. Paul’s epistles—for the four written from Rome may be con- sidered as plainly contemporary—and of these, six seem to be erroneous. I do not attribute any authority to these sub- scriptions. I believe them to have been conjectures founded sometimes upon loose traditions, but more generally upon a consideration of some particular text, without sufficiently comparing it with other parts of the epistle, with different epistles, or with the history. Suppose, then, that the sub- scriptions had come down to us as authentic parts of the epistles, there would have been more contrarieties and difti- culties arising out of these final verses than from all the rest of the volume. Yet, if the epistles had been forged, the whole must have been made up of the same elements as those of which the subscriptions are composed, namely, tra- dition, conjecture, and inference ; and it would have remained to be accounted for, how, while so many errors were crowded ‘nto the concluding clauses of the letters, so much consis- tency should be preserved in other parts. The same reflection arises from observing the oversights and mistakes which learned men have committed, when arguing upon allusions which relate to time and place, or Hore Paul. 24. ec erage ele? oc ems sa ee Ga Sa Fs F eer ere ry re re tt re i " i My 5 6 : * if et roe a NE : i t $ i . a : ? } iy ee i i 13 , ; 4 i V7 ih : Oe a ee a ileal italia Ce ee ee ee ei eres avane PaCikette¢ec chert et es pease Len he eb ead ds see eee ee eo ee oe ot ee ToT % by SeeHePst ~ane eer See ae ae Se eed eee ee eet eee ee ee ee ee ee d 202 HORA PAULINE. when endeavoring to digest scattered circumstances into a continued story. It is indeed the same case ; for these sub- scriptions must be regarded as ancient scholia, and as noth- ing more. Of this liability to errer I can present the reader with a notable instance; and which I bring forward for no other purpose than that to which I apply the erroneous sub- scriptions. Ludovicus Capellus, in that part of his ‘“ His- torica Apostolica Illustrata,” which is entitled De Ordine Epist. Paul., writing upon the second epistle to the Corinthi- ans, triumphs unmercifully over the want of sagacity in Ba- ronius, who it seems makes St. Paul write his epistle to Titus from Macedonia upon his second visit into that province ; whereas it appears from the history, that Titus, instead of being at Crete, where the epistle places him, was at that time sent by the apostle from Macedonia to Corinth. ‘ Az- emadvertere est,” says Capellus, ‘‘magnam hominis rlius Epremar, que vult Titum a Paulo in Cretam abductum, allicque relictum, cum inde Nicopolim navigaret, quem tamen agnoscit a Paulo ex Macedonié missum esse Corin- thum.’ This probably will be thought a detection of incon- sistency in Baronius. But what is the most remarkable is, that in the same chapter in which he thus indulges his con- tempt for Baronius’ judgment, Capellus himself falls into an error of the same kind, and more gross and palpable than that which he reproves. For he begins the chapter by stating the second epistle to the Corinthians and the first epistle to Timothy to be nearly contemporary ; to have been both written during the apostle’s second visit into Macedo- ‘nia; and that a doubt subsisted concerning the immediate priority or their dates: “Posterior ad eosdem Corinthios Evistola, et prior ad Timotheum certant de prioritate, et sub judice lis est ; utraque autem scripta est paulo post- quam Paulus Epheso discessisset, adeoque dum Macedo- niam peragraret, sed utra tempore precedat, non liquet.” Now, in the first place, it is highly improbable that the two epistles should have been written either nearly together, orSUBSCRIPTIONS OF THE BEPISTLES. 203 during the same journey through Macedonia; for, in the epistle to the Corinthians, Timothy appears to have been with St. Paul; in the epistle addressed to him, to have been left behind at Ephesus, and not only left behind, but directed to continue there till St. Paul should return to that city, In the second place, it is inconceivable that a question should be proposed concerning the priority of date of the two epis- tles; for when St. Paul, in his epistle to Timothy, opens his address to him by saying, ‘‘as I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus when I went into Macedonia,” no reader can doubt but that he here refers to the last interview which had passed between them; that he had not seen him since: whereas, if the epistle be posterior to that to the Corinthians, yet written upon the same visit into’ Macedonia, this could not be true; for as Timothy was along with St. Paul when he wrote to the Corinthians, he must, upon this supposition, have passed over to St. Paul in Macedonia after he had been left by him at Ephesus, and must have returned to Ephesus again before the epistle was written. What misled Ludo- vicus Capellus was simply this, that he had entirely over- looked Timothy’s name in the superscription of the second epistle to the Corinthians. Which oversight appears not only in the quotation we have given, but from his telling us as he does, that Timothy came from Ephesus to St. Paul at Corinth ; whereas the superscription proves that Timothy was already with St. Paul when he wrote to the Corinthians {rom Macedonia. len en F272 Pee eee toe ee ee Pe oe ee ea Ge ee oe eg bed hinebte ros te poPeeS Pare ae ay eee a ee Ss ee er ee ee ee ee ee a Tepe ys Se eee See Tyor os ehh ek Rm, PAP SPie + Fe tevesest et sony Ce co ee Pes Se Go Enh eel abate a ee eae te ak ot en ae S At ee were eS Eee eee oo eee ee ee 204 HOR PAULINA. Cit A Pinan SV 1). THE CONCLUSION. In the outset of this inquiry, the reader was directed to consider the Acts of the Apostles and the thirteen epistles of St. Paul as certain ancient manuscripts lately discovered in the closet of some celebrated library. We have adhered to this view of the subject. External evidence of every kind has been removed out of sight; and-our endeavors have been employed to collect the indications of truth and authenticity which appeared to exist in the writines them- selves, and to result from a comparison of their different parts. It is not however necessary to continue this suppo- sition longer. The testimony which other remains of con- temporary, or the monuments of adjoining ages afford to the reception, notoriety, and public estimation of a book, form, no doubt, the first proof of its genuineness. And in no books whatever is this proof more complete than in those at present under our consideration. The inquirres of learned men, and, above all, of the excellent Lardner, who never overstates a point of evidence, and whose fidelity in citing his authori- ties has in no one instance been impeached, have established, concerning these writings, the following propositions : I. That in the age immediately posterior to that in which St. Paul lived, his letters were publicly read and acknowledzed. Some of them are quoted or alluded to by almost every Christian writer that followed, by Clement of Rome, by Hermas, by Ignatius, by Polycarp, disciples or contempora- ries of the apostles ; by Justin Martyr, by the churches of Gaul, by Ireneus, by Athenagoras, by Theophilus, by Clem- ent of Alexandria, by Hermias, by Tertullian, who occupied the succeeding age. Now when we find a book quoted or referred to by an ancient author, we are entitled to conclude that it was read and received in the age and country in which that author lived. And this conclusion does not, inCONCLUSION. 200 any degree, rest upon the judgment or character of the author making such reference. Proceeding by this rule, we have, concerning the first epistle to the Corinthians in par- ticular, within forty years after the epistle was Ww ritten, 7 dence not only of its beine extant at Corinth, but of being known and read at Rome. Clement, bishop of A city, writing to the church of Corinth, uses these words : “Take into your hands the epistle of the blessed Paul the apostle. What did he at frst write unto you in the begin- ning of the gospel? V erily he did by the Spirit admonish you concerning himself, and Cephas, and Apollos, because that even then you did form parties. '* This was written at a time when prob ably some must have been living at Corinth who-remembere: 1 St. Paul’s ministry there and the receipt of the epistle. The testimony is still more valuable, s ; se ] A Se ee ae a reserved I he el -a} 3 as it shows that the epistles were preserves in the churcenes to which they were sent, and that they were spread and propagate .d from them to the rest of the Christian commu- nity. Agreeably to w hich natural mode and order of their llian, a century afterw ards, for prool “of the publication, Tertullian, integrity and venuineness of the apostolic writings, bids ‘‘ any one, who is willing to exercise ils curlosity profitably m the business of their salvation, to visit the apostolical churches, Se au- in which their very authentic letters are recited ae fie ~ s thentice literee eorum recitantur. Then he goes on: Is ? You have Corinth. If you are not far Achaia near you: £ 2 - von have Philippi, you have Thessalonic -om Macedonia, you have rhuippl, you rave Thessalonica. If you can go to Asia, you have Ephesus ; but if you are near to Italy, you have Rome. + JT adduce this passage to that the distinct churches or Christian societies, to show, -e sent, subsisted for some ages which St. Paul’s epistles wer afterwards; that his several epistles were all along respec- tively read in those churches; that Christians at large re- deived them from those churches, and appealed to those originality and authenticity. 12, p. 22. + Lardner, vol. 2, p- 098. ee oe * See Lardner, vol. } churches for their PS ee ee ee | ese i eemaseaeigetes és eee ere rs ea ee tt io ee ee ee | eee ee ee ed et ee et ee ee a206 HORA PAULINA. | Arguing in like manner from citations and allusions, we , have, within the space of a hundred and fifty years from | the time that the first of St. Paul’s epistles was written, proofs of almost all of them being read in Palestine, Syria, the countries of Asia Minor, in Egypt, in that part of Africa i which used the Latin tongue, in Greece, Italy, and Gaul.* : ea I do not mean simply to assert, that within the space of a hundred and fifty years St. Paul’s epistles wer countries, for I believe that. +] from the beginning ; but tl e read in those ley were read and circulated lat proofs of their being so read occur within that period. And when it is considered how few of the primitive Christians wrote, and of what was written how much is lost, we are to account it extraordi- nary, or rather as a sure proof of the extensiveness:of ] reputation of these writings, and of the general respect in which they were held, that so many testimonies, and of such antiquity, are still extant. “In the remaining works of Trenwus, Clement of Alexandria, and Tertul perhaps more and larger quotations of t] the New Testament, than of all the worl writings of all characters for several ree os ee ee ee tebe eS 1e Leh it pi tetera ease eee oe od 2 lian, there are 1e small volume of cs of Cicero in the ages.’+ We must add, that the epistles of Paul come in for their full sh observation; and that all the thirteen epistles, except that to Philemon, which is not quoted by Ireneus or C and which probably escaped notice merely } are of this lement, yy its brevity, are severally cited, and expressly recognized as St. Paul’s by The Ebionites, an early, though inconsiderable Christian sect, rejected St. Paul and | his epistles ;¢ that is, they rejected these epistles not be- cause they were not, but because they were St. Paul’s: because, adhering to the obligation of tl . ee a ees each of these Christian writers. and 1e Jewish law, they chose to dispute his doctrine and authority. as to the genuineness of the epist] of other Christians. Their suffrage es does not contradict that Marcion, a heretical writer in the for- See P Peer ey + es 4S eP HS yo Oe ba * See Lardner’s Reecapitulation, vol. 12, p. 53. Tt Ibid f Lardner, vol. 2, p- 808.CONCLUSION. 207 mer part of the second century, is said by Tertullian to have rejected three of the epistles which we now receive, namely, the two epistles to Timothy and the epistle to Titus. It appears to me not improbable, that Marcion might make some such distinction as this: that no apostolic epistle was to be admitted which was not read or attested by the church to which it was sent; for it is remarkable, that together with these epistles to private persons, he rejected also the catholic epistles. Now the catholic epistles and the epistles to private persons agree in the circumstance of wanting this particular species of attestation. Marcion, it seems, acknow- ledeed the epistle to Philemon, and is upbraided for his in- consistency in doing so by Tertullian,* who asks, ‘ Why, when he received a letter written to a single person, he should refuse two to Timothy and one to Titus, composed upon the affairs of the shurch ?” This passage so far favors our account of Marcion’s objection, as it shows that the ob- jection was supposed by Tertullian to have been founded in somethine which belonged to the nature of a private letter. Nothing of the works of Marcion remains. Probably he was, after all, a rash, arbitrary, licentious critic—if he de- served indeed the name of eritic——and who offered no reason for his determination. What St. Jerome says of him inti- mates this, and is besides founded in good sense: speaking of him and Basilides, “If they assigned any reason,” says he, ‘why they did not reckon these epistles, ” namely, the first and second to Timothy and the epistle to Titus, “to be suld have endeavored to answer them, the apostle’s, we wi satisfied the reader; but when they and perhaps might have take upon them, by their own authority, to pronounce one epistle to be Paul’s, and another not, they can only be replied Let it be remembered, however, to in the same manner. ’’t His authority, that Marcion received ten of these epistles. ‘his credit had been better than it is, forms uniformity of the evidence. Of + Ibid, p. 408. therefore, even if a very small exception to the * Lardner, vol. 14, p. 499. eee eet tet tite eee ee eek eee ee ee oe er ie dave hve dem AN eae ee ee reyeee ree ee eS ee ee ee a eT‘aie. tehSeGey es teSevesces r+ ¢— pip opp ee es eet Ce at ce errs (inl aad cee eel ee et ee eT oe ae ee ee See ee ee ee z of teed en i 2U8 HORA PAULINA. Basilides we know still less than we do of Marcion. rN ihe same observation, however, belongs to him, namely, that his objection, as far as appears from this passage of St. Jerome, was confined to the three private epistles. Yet is this the only opinion which can be said to disturb the consent of the first two centuries of the Christian era F for as to Tatian, who 1s reported by a erome alone to have rejected some of St. Paul’s epistles, the extravagant or rather delirious notions into which he fell, take away all judgment. If, indeed, Jerome’s account of this cireumstance be correct ; for it appears from much o] rome, that Tatian owned and used bh: They who in those veight and credit from his der writers than Je- many of these epistles.* ages disputed about go many other points, agreed in acknowledging the Scriptures now before us. Contendin sects appealed to them in their con- troversies, with equal and unreserved submission. When > | they were urged by one side, however they might be inter- preted or misinterpreted by the other Y o , their authority was not questioned. “ Religui omnes.’ says | reneus, speaking of Marcion, “falso scientie 20MINEe inflate, Seriptur as quidem confjitentur, enterpretationes vero convertunt.’’+ II. When the genuineness of some other writings which were in circulation, and even of a few whieh are now re- ceived into the canon, was contested, these were never called ito dispute. Whatever was the objection, or whether in truth there ever was any real objection to the autl lenticity of the second epistle of Pete , the second and third of John, the epistle of James, or that of Jud Revelation of St. John. the doubts that appear to have been entertained concerning them exceedingly 4 e, or to the book of the strengthen the force of the testimony as to those writings about which there was no doubt; because it shows, that the matter was a subject, Lardner, -vol. 1, p. 313. T Tren. advers. Heer. quoted by Lardner, vol. 15, p- 425. ‘“ All the rest, inflated with a false pretence of knowledge, recognize the Serip- tures, but wrest their interpretation.”THE CONCLUSION. 209 among the early Christians, of examination and disct IssiON 3 and that where there was any room to doubt, they did doubt. What Eusebius has left upon the subject is directly to the purpose of this observation. Eusebius, it is well known, divided the ecclesiastical writings which were extant in his time into three classes: the “ dvavreppyra, uncontradicted,’ he calls oe in one chapter, or, “scriptures universally acknowledged,” as he calls them in another; the “contro- verted, yet well known and approved by many; and the ‘spurious. ” What were the shades of difference in the hooks of the second, or of those in the third class, or what it was precisely that he meant by the term spwrvous, it is not necessary in this place to inquire. It is sufficient for us to find, that the thirteen epistles of St. Par u are placed by him in the first class, without any sort of hes itation or doubt. It is further also to be collected from the chapter in which this distinction is laid down, that the method made use of by Eusebius, and by the Christians of his time, namely, the close of the third century, in judging concerning the sacred author- ity of any books, was to inquire after aud consider the tes timony of those who lived near the age of the apostles.* [V. That no ancient aan which is attested as these epistles are, has had its authenticity disproved, or 1s in fact questiqned. The controversies which have been moved con- cerning suspected wr itings, as the epistles, for instance, ol Phalaris, or the eighteen epistles of Cicero, begin by show- ino that this attestation is wanting. That being proved, the question is thrown back upon internal marks of spuriousness or authenticity ; and in these the dispute is occupied. In which disputes it is to be observed, that the contested writings are commonly attacked by argument ts drawn from some oppos ition which they betray-to * ‘authentic history,” to ‘true ey vistles, to the “real sentiments or circumstances of the author whom they personate + which authentic history, which true epis- * Lardner, vol. 8, p. 106. + See tracts by Se and Middleton, upon certain suspected epis- tles ascribed to C 0. 24% See senegerset eo eens se ee ga lees SoS ui S Sie See eke ZS ai es ee ee eee eo ee ee co i Se re ee ee a ee Ses SPSL H SREP S'S ESSTies t. eee eee one epieee ses LEL SPSS SOEs REER BY Od et ay a PPpeheseters cena bw ee ee Pe eee ee ee ee te es i i ) 210 HORA PAULINA. tles, which real sentiments themselves, are no other than an- cient documents, whose early existence and reception can be proved, in the manner in which the writings before us are tra- ced up to the age of their reputed author, or to ages near to his. A modern who sits down to compose the history of some an- cient period, has no stronger evidence to appeal to for the most confident assertion, or the most undisputed fact that he deliv- ers, than writings whose genuineness is proved by the same medium through which we evince the authenticity of ours. Nor, while he can have recourse to such authorities as these, does he apprehend any uncertainty in his accounts, from the suspicion of spuriousness or imposture in his materials. V. It cannot be shown that any forgeries, properly so called,* that is, writings published under the name of the person who did not compose them, made their appearance in the first century of the Christian era, in which century these epistles undoubtedly existed. I shall set down under this proposition the guarded words of Lardner himself: « There are no quotations of any books of them—spurious and apoc- ryphal books—in the apostolical fathers, by wl 10m I mean Barnabas, Clement of Rome, Hermas, Ignatius, and Poly- carp, whose writings reach from the year of our Lord 70 to the year 108. TI say this confidently, because I think it has been proved.” Lardner, vol. 12, p. 158. Nor when they did appear were they much used by the primitive Christians. “TIreneus quotes not any of these books. He mentions some of them, but he never quotes them. The same may be said of Tertullian - he | tioned a book called ‘Acts of Paul and Thecla,’ but it is only to condemm it. Clement of Alexandria and Origen have mentioned and quoted several 1aS men- such books, but never as authority, and sometimes with express marks of dislike. Eusebius quoted no such books in any of his works. He * T believe that there is a great deal of truth in Dr. Lardner’s ob- servation, that comparatively few of tl 10se books which we call apoc- ryphal were strictly and original] y forgeries. Lardner, vol. £2, p. 167.THE CONCLUSION. 211 has mentioned them, indeed; but how? Not by way of approbation, but to show that they were of little or no value, and that they never were received by the sounder part of Christians.” Now, if with this, which is advanced after the most minute and diligent examination, we compare what the same cautious writer had before said of our re- ceived Scriptures, ‘‘that in the works of three only of the above-mentioned fathers, there are more and larger quota- tions of the small volume of the New Testament than of all the works of Cicero in the writings of all characters for several ages; and if with the marks of obscurity or con- demnation which accompanied the mention of the several apocryphal Christian writings, when they happened to be mentioned at all, we contrast what Dr. Lardner’s work com- pletely and in detail makes out concerning the writings which we defend, and what, having so made out, he thought himself authorized in his conclusion to assert, that these books were not only received from the beginning, but re- ceived with the greatest respect; have been publicly and solemnly read in the assemblies of Christians throughout the world, in every age from that time to this; early trans- lated into the languages of divers countries and people ; eommentaries written to explain and illustrate them ; quoted by way of proof in all arguments of a religious nature ; rec- qumeaded to the perusal of unbelievers, as containing the authentic account of the Christian doctrine: when we attend, I say, to this representation, we perceive in it not only full proof of the early notoriety of these books, but a clear and sensible line of discrimination, which separates these from the pretensions of any others. The epistles of St. Paul stand particularly free of any doubt or confusion that might arise from this source. Until the conclusion of the fourth century, no intimation appears of any attempt whatever being made to counterfeit these writings ; aud then it appears only of a single and obscure : " ; ye VEN OLS a ce instance. Jerome, who flourished in the year 392, has this *- cera se ee ge Ieee TF rt te See oe ce ee er tr 2. oe ee cya ove same ge idee ei. Bs Bw B ) pear eee Fee ee eae id Sei GPSELHEMSEP CESSES| one 212 HORA PAULINA: ea expression: “ Lesunt quidam et ad Laodicenses; sed ab | omnibus exploditur,” there is also an epistle to the Laodi- 4 ceans, but it is rejected by every body.* Theodoret, who wrote in the year 423, speaks of this epistle in the same terms.f Besides these, I know not whether any ancient ih writer mentions it. It was certainly unnoticed during the first three centuries of the church; and’ when it came after- wards to be mentioned, it was mentioned only to show that, though such a writing did exist, it obtained no credit. It is probable that the forgery to which Jerome alludes, is the epistle which we now have under that title. If so, as has been already observed, it is nothing more than a collection of sentences from the genuine epistles ; tt. + takes ee = Po and was perh laps, at first, rather the exercise of some idle pen, than any serious attempt to impose a forgery upon the public. to the Corinthians under St. Paul’s n: ime, into Europe in the present century, antic It was unheard of for si xteen centuries Of an epistle which was broucht oO S3-¢5. 428-2322 $ 35452458 ee dD juity is entirely silent. ; and at this day, though t found in the Armenian language, it is not, by the Christians of that country, received into their Scriptures. | hope, after this, that there is no reader wl] think there is any competition of credit, or of ex between these and the received epistles ; not acknowledge the evidence of authenticity to be confirmed by the want of suecess which attended imposture. When we take into our hands the letters which the suf- frage and consent of antiquity has tl the first thing that it be extant, and was first 10 will xternal proof, or rather, who will Chet hiwer ini pasupehsgeewnwsenk lus transmitted to us, strikes our attention js the air of reali and business, as well as of ee ee ity seriousness and conviction which pervades the whole. Let the se eptic read them. If he be not sensible of these qualities in them, the argument can have no weight with him. If he be. if he perceive in almost every page the laneuage ee eee ee of a mind actuated by real ocea- sions, and operating upon real it to be observed, that rs circumstances, | would wish the proof which arises from this per- * Lardner, vol. 10, p: 103 t Ibid ee ee ee ~ wOL aI. D. So.CONCLUSION. 215 ception is not to be deemed occult or imaginary, because it is incapable of being drawn out in words, or of being con- veyed to the apprehension of the reader in any other way than by sending him to the books themselves. And here, in its proper place, comes in the argument which it has been the office of these pages to unfold. Bt. Paul’s epistles are connected with the history by their par- ticularity, and by the numerous circumstances which are found in them. ‘When we descend to an examination and comparison of these circumstances, we not only observe the history and the epistles to be independent documents un- known to, or at least unconsulted by each other, but we find the substance and oftentimes minute articles of the history recognized in the epistles, by allusions and references which can neither be imputed to des7g7, nor, without a foundation in truth, be accounted for by accident ; by hints and expres- sons and single words, dropping as 1t were fortuitously from the pen of the writer, or drawn forth each by some occasion proper to the place in which it occurs, but widely removed from any view to consistency or agreement. These we know are effects which reality naturally produces, but which, with- out reality at the bottom, can hardly be conceived to exist. When. therefore, with a body of external evidence which is relied upon, and which experience proves may safely be relied upon, 1n appreciating the credit of ancient writings, we combine characters of genuineness and originality which are not found, and which, in the nature and order of things, cannot be expected to be found in spurious compositions, whatever difficulties we may meet with in other topics of the Christian evidence, we can have little in yielding our assent to the following conclusions: that there was such a person as St. Paul; that he lived in the age which we ascribe to him; that he went about preaching the religion of which Jesus Christ was the founder ; and that the letters which we now read were actually written by him upon the subject, and in the course of that his ministry. Lek ek oe ee ed 2H ee? a ee we ee ee SF ao ee ee Eee | ee soee eee ee ee a eee ys ee ee eete tee eee. ee xa bs Det ctcaeeeeeo bass eee ee ee 2 oe ees ce | ee ey tr Pfr en ey ee ee a ee RPeere ess ater e@ere eee ke te es aes : d 214 HORA PAULINA. And if it be true that we are in possession of the very letters which St. Paul wrote, let us consider what confirma- tion they aflord to the Christian history. In my opinion they substantiate the whole transaction. The great object of modern research is to come at the epistolary correspond- ence of the times. Amid the obscurities, the silence, or the contradictions of history, if a letter can be found, we regard it as the discovery of a landmark as that by which we can correct, adjust, or supply the imperfections and uncertainties of other accounts. One cause of the superior credit which is attributed to letters is this, that the facts which they dis- close generally come out ¢ncidentally, and therefore without design to mislead the public by false or exaggerated accounts. This reason may be applied to St. Paul’s epistles with as much justice as to any letters whatever. Nothing could be further from the intention of the writer than to record any part of his history. That his history was in jact made public by these letters, and has by the same means been transmitted to future ages, is a secondary and unthought-of effect. The sincerity, therefore, of the apostle’s declarations cannot reasonably be disputed ; at least, we are sure that it was not vitiated by any desire of setting himself off to the public at large. But these letters form a part of the muni- ments of Christianity, as much to be valued for their contents as for their originality. A more inestimable treasure the Besides the proof they afford of the general reality of St. Paul’s his- care of antiquity could not have sent down to us. tory, of the knowledge which the author of the Acts of the Apostles had obtained of that history, and the consequent prob- ability that he was, what he professes himself to have been, a companion of the apostle’s—besides the support they lend to these important inferences, they meet specially some of the principal objections upon which the adversaries of Christian- ity have thought proper to.rely. In particular they show, I. That Christianity was not a story set on foot amid the coninsions which attended and immediately preceded theCONCLUSION. 215 destruction of Jerusalem; when many extravagant reports were circulated, when men’s minds were broken by terror and distress, when amid the tumults that surrounded them inquiry was impracticable. These letters show incontesta- bly, that the religion had fixed and established itself before this state of things took place. Il. Whereas it has been insinuated that our gospels may have been made up of reports and stories which were current at the time, we may observe that, with respect to the epistles, this is impossible. A man cannot write the history of his own life from reports ; nor, what is the same thing, be led by re- ports to refer to passages and transactions in which he states himself to have been immediately present and active. I do not allow that this insinuation is applied to the historical part of the New Testament with any color of justice or probabili- ty; but I say, that to the epistles it is not applicable at all. Ill. These letters prove that the converts to Christianity were not drawn from the barbarous, the mean, or the igno- rant set of men which the representations of infidelity would sometimes make them. We learn from letters the charac- ter, not only of the writer, but, in some measure, of the per- sons to whom they are written. ‘To suppose that these let- ters were addressed to a rude tribe, incapable of thought or reflection, is just as reasonable as to suppose Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding to have been written for the instruction of savages. Whatever may be thought of these letters in other respects, either of. diction or argument, they are certainly removed as far as possible from the habits and comprehension of a barbarous people. LV. St. Paul’s history, I mean so much of it as may be collected from his letters, is so implicated with that of the other apostles, and with the substance, indeed, of the Chris- tian history itself, that | apprehend it will be found impos- sible to admit St. Paul’s story—I do not speak of the mirac- ulous part of it—to be true, and yet to reject the rest as fab- ulous. For instance, can any one believe that there was silent OR BO te 8 aa LY i EE IS A Soe cena SUR eee so ee Poe ee ee eee eee ea ewe eee ee oe ee SA beh ew ated on gre SES hee SOS ede bedw eee ee eee rs Tee oe ee eeJ we Sieh WIP eHpse eH Fe Ceyveres ete —pi poppy vers s Sehr Loe eee ote Pe Te eS ee oe cee ee ee. ee ee ea ee ee 216 HORA PAULINA. such a man as Pa ul, a preache r Of Christianity, in the age which we assign to him, and mot believe that there was also at the same time such a man as Peter and James, and other apostles, who had been companions.of Christ during his life, and who after his death published and avowed the same things concerning him which Paul taught? Judea, and especially Jerusalem, was the scene of Christ’s s ministry. The witness- es of his miracles lived there. as well as that of his histoyi: an, appears to have frequently Vis- ‘ited that city ; to have Pi Paul by his own account, carried ona communic: ition with the church there ; to have associated with the rulers and elders lem apostles; to have in correspondence, and sometimes in conjunction with them. Can it, after this, be doubted, but that the religion and the general facts relating to it, which St. Paul appears by his letters to have delivered to the sev- eral churches which he establisl same time taught and published at Jerusalem itself; the place where the business was transacted ; and taught and publis hed by those who had attended the founder of the in stitution In lis miraculous, or prete ndedly mir: aculous, mini stry ? of that church, who were some of tl acted, as occasions offere d, 1ed at a distance, were at the It is observable, for so it appears both in the epistles and from the Acts of the Apostles, that Je et W erusalem, and the socj- of believers in that city, lone continued t} ety 1e centre from hich the missionaries of t othe he religion issued, with which all r churches maintained a corres] to which they referred their dou times of public distress, ondence and connection, bts, and to whose relief. in they remitted their charitabl ance. ‘This observation I think material, ] that this was not the case of € assist- because it proves giving our accounts in one country of what is transacted in anot} ler, Without affording nowing whether the things related were credited by any, or even published, the hearers an ioe. unity of |] in the place where they are reported to have passed, V. St. Paul’s letters furnish evidence—and what better evidence than a man’s own letters can be desired ’_of theCONCLUSION 2417 soundness and sobriety of his judgment. His caution in dis- tinguishing between the occasional suggestions of inspiration, and the ordinary exercise of his natural understanding, 1s without example in the history of human enthusiasm. His morality is everywhere calm, pure, and rational ; adapted to the condition, the activity, and the business of social life and of its various relations; free from the over-serupulousness and austerities of superstition, and from what was more per- haps to be apprehended, the abstractions of quietism and the soarines and extravagances of fanaticism. His judgment concerning a hesitating conscience ; his opinion of the moral indifferency of many actions, yet of the prudence and even the duty of compliance, where non-compliance would produce evil eflects upon the minds of the persons who observed it, is as correct and just as the most liberal and enlightened mor- alist could form at thisday. The accuracy of modern ethics has found nothing to amend in these determinations. What Lord Lyttelton has remarked of the preference ascribed by St. Paul to inward rectitude of principle above every other religious accomphshment, is very material to our present purpose. “ In his first epistle to the Corinthians, chap. 13: 1-3, St Paul has these words: Though I speak with the tongues of men and of ange ls, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cym- bal. And though L have the gift of prophecy, and under- stand all muysterves, and. all. knowledge ; and though x have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Is this the language of enthusiasm? Did ever enthusiast prefer that universal benevolence which comprehendeth all moral virtues, and which, as appeareth by the following verses, is meant by charity here » did ever enthusiast, I say, prefer that benevolence,’ which, we may add, is attainable by every man, “to faith and to miracles, to those religious i ', = ad ay * oo 1 9 i 7 \ -. rm + } a We a Bt 4 ¥ 7 3 F {at eee ip Rene Pdteeeo eee s pay ee oe ee ade Beet. Bei ee ee ee ee ere peer ee ey ee ree Tose ee eS art fo ee eee 2 ee acid ns ae Sa ee ee DL ee tad ged es *? Od be oe apeheg ede eee oe eee tee oO LO om Fee ES ae a oe Pare t, Fe joice in my sufferings for you, € > 218 HORA PAULINA. opinions which he had embraced, and to those supernatural graces and gifts which he imagined he had acquired ; nay, even to the merit of martyrdom? Is it not the genius of enthusiasm to set moral virtues infinitely below the merit of faith ; and of all moral virtues to value that least which is most particularly enforced by St. Paul—a spirit of candor, moderation, and peace ? Certainly, neither the temper nor the opinions of a man subject to fanatic delusions are to be found in this passage.” Lord Lyttelton’s Considerations on the Conversion, ete. I see no reason, therefore, to question the integrity of his understanding. To call him a visionary because he ap- pealed to visions, or an enthusiast because he pretended to inspiration, is to take the whole question for granted. It is to take for granted that no such visions or inspirations existed ; at least, it is to assume, contrary to his own assertions, that he had no other proofs than these to offer of his mission, or of the truth of his relations. One thing I allow, that his letters everywhere discover great zeal and earnestness in the cause in which he was engaged ; that is to say, he was convinced of the truth of what he taught; he was deeply impressed, but not more so than the occasion merited, with a sense of its importance. This produces a corresponding animation and solicitude in the exercise of his ministry. But would not these consider- ations, supposing them to be well founded, have holden the same place, and produced the same effect in a mind the strongest and the most sedate ? VI. These letters are decisive as to the sufferings of the author; also as to the distressed state of the C] church, and the dangers which attended tl the gospel. iristian 1e preaching of ‘‘ Whereof I Paul am made a minister; who now re- and fill up that which is vist in my flesh, for his body’s sake, which is the church.” Col. Ly 23, 24. behind of the afflictions of GO}CONCLUSION. 219 “Tf in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” 1 Cor. 15:19. “Why stand we in jeopardy every hour? I protest by your rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily. If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not ?”’ t-Cor. 15.: 30-32. “Tf children, then heirs: heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ: if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the lory which shall be revealed in us.” Rom. 8:17, 18. “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall oO 2 tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famme, or naked- ness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.” Rom. 8:30, 36. “Rejoicing in hope; patent um tribulation ; continuing instant in prayer.” Rom. 12: 12. “ Now concerning virgins, I have no commandment of the Lord: yet I give my judgment as one that hath obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful. I suppose, therefore, that this is good for the. present distress ; 1 say, that it is good for a man so to be.” 1 Cor. 7: 25, 26. “For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake ; hav- ine the same conflict which ye saw in me, and now hear to be igame,” oblast »29ro, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.” ‘From henceforth let no man trouble me, for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesig:”. Gal. 6.244, 17. “Ye became followers of us, and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost2ue 1 Ehese. le Sconnee tse? ee oe Ta ee ee es ee ee Se ar te ee poe eae ee ee ee ee ee ON ae ee 2S Pe eae eS ee Tet ce et |Wh 220 HOR A PAULINZE. re ; j teri “We ourselves glory in you in the churches of God, for ae | your patience and faith in all your persecutions and tribula- é tions that ye endure.” 2 Thess. 1: 4. We may seem to have accumulated texts unnecessarily ; but besides that the point which they are brought to prove d is of great importance, there is this also to be remarked in | every one of the passages cited, that the allusion is drawn from the writer by the argument or the occasion—that the ont eae cee eo ee notice which is taken of his sufferings, and of the suffering condition of Christianity, is perfectly incidental, and is dic- tated by no design of state the facts themselves. Indeed, they are not stated at all: they may rather be said to be assumed. This is a distinction upon which we have relied a good deal in former parts of this treatise; and where the eb ee det Sikes dee led et writer’s information cannot be doubted. it al ways, In my opin- ion, adds greatly to the value and credit of the testimony, If any reader require from the apostle more direct and explicit assertions of the same thine, he will receive full satisfaction in the following quotations : ee oe et eee “Are they ministers of Christ? (I speak as a fool,)-I am , | ; more ; in labors more abundant, in st ripes above measure, i prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received |] forty st ripes save one. Thrice was I beaten ee ae eS with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suftered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in ee Joa eens Le ee ee the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perus among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness ; in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, im cold and nakedness.” 2 Cor. 11 : 23-27. Can it be necessary to add more? ‘TJ think that God yh hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were appointed to . death ; for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men. Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have eee ee ee fa ee es ee eStwo pam CONCLUSION. no certain dwelling-place ; and labor, working with our own hands. Being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it; being defamed, we entreat: we are made as the filth of the world, and are the offscour ing of all things unto this day. 1 Cor. 4:9-13. Isubjoin this passage to the former, because it extends to the other apostles | declared concerning himself, which St. Paul In the followimg quot ations, the reference to the author’s suflerine’s is accompanied with a al for the truth of what he declares “ Hven s of Christianity muc h of that specification of time and place, and with an appet to the knowledge of the persons whom he addresses : after that we had suffered before, and were shamefully en- as ye know, at Philippr, we were bold in our God f God with much ¢ ontention. treated, to spears unto you the gospel of 1 Thess. 2 : 2: a as a fully known my do yetrine, manner of long-suffering, persecutions, afflictions, life, purpose, fain which came unto me at Antioch, at Iconvum, at Lystra ; what persecutions I endured: but out of them all the Lord delivered me.” 2 Tim. 3: 10/11. | apprehend that to this point, as far as the testimony of S+ Paul is credited, the evidence from his letters is complete and full. It appears under by occasional allusions and by every form im which it could appear, direct assertions, by ceneral declarations and by specific examples VII. St. Paul in these letters asserts, in positive and un- 1 terms, his performance of miracl 4 l equivoca es strictly and properly so called. “He therefore that ministereth to you the Spirit, and worketh miracles, évepy@v durauee, aMong You, doeth he it by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith?” Gal. 3 ‘¢For [ will not dare to spe sak of any of those things which Christ hath not wrought by me,* to make t : That is, “1 will speak of nothing by me;??, or, as Grotius interprets it, things by me, that I will not dare the Gentiles obe- but what Christ hath wrought “Christ hath wrought so great to say what he hath not wrought.” eee Perret ye GFR Sepa set Sei ves see ege Tees ee ee ee en eo ae Te re a oe eg ae Pe ee ee ee ee ee Pee ee eee ee oett teehee e oe ee See ed oe ele ee eee oe ee ee ol to St et ee Se ee ee eee ee ee Tee Pia fe ee ¢ Peep Tr os) Py eres &, Tet eat eT tes Ce ied 222 HOR PAULINA. dient, by word and deed, through mighty signs and wonders, i év Ovvauet oneiov Kat tepatwr, by the power of the Spirit of God : so that from Jerusalem, and round about unto Ilyricum, I have fully preached the gospel of Christ.” Rom. 15:18, 19. a “Truly the signs of an apostle were wrought among you in all patience, in signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds,” : 2 Com 12 12. and mighty deeds, onueta, Kat répara, Kd duvauec, are the specific appropriate terms through- out the New Testament, e EV ONUELOLC KAL TEPAGL Kat Ovvaueo.*® These words, signs, wonders, mployed when public sensible miracles are intended to be expressed. This will appear by consulting, among other places, the texts referred to in the note ;f and it cannot be shown that they are ever employed to express any thing else. Secondly, these words not only denote posed to natural effects, but they may be called external] miracles, First, from énspiration. miracles as op- denote visible, and what as distinguished, If St. Paul had meant to refer only to secret illuminations of his understanding, or secret in- fluences upon his will or affections, he could not, with truth, have represented them as “ signs and wonders wrought by * To these may be added the following indirect allusions, which— though if they had stood alone. that is, Without plainer texts in ‘the same writings, they might have been: accounted dubj us; yet, when considered in conjunction with the passages already cited—can hardly receive any other interpretation than that which we give them. ‘““My speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power: that | your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of , God.’ ~1 Gor. 2! 4, 5. “The gospel, wheteof I was made a minister, according to the gift of the grace of God given unto me by the effectual working of his power.’’ Enphes. 3:6, 7. ‘ For he that wrought eflectually in Peter to the apostleship of tl eumcision, the same was mighty in me toward the Gentiles,” 16 Cir- Gal. 2:8. ** For our gospel came not unto you in word only, but al and in the Holy Ghost, and in mucl T Mark16:20; LukeQ3: 8; Acts 2:22; 433 -°5% 19. 623) so in power, 1 Thess. 1.25. 4:48-54; 11:49. 3 (163 lte3- 44: 12- Hep 2 A. 1 assurance.’’ John 2: |] L=20% oes Ow. kmsCONCLUSION. 293 him,” of ‘signs and wonders and mighty deeds wrought among them.’ Secondly, from vzszons. These would not by any means satisfy the force of the terms, “signs, wonders, and mighty deeds :”’ still less could they be said to be ‘wrought by him,” or “wrought among them ;” nor are these terms and ex- pressions anywhere applied to visions. When our author alludes to the supernatural communications which he had received, either by vision or otherwise, he uses expressions suited to the nature of the subject, but very different from the words which we have quoted. He calls them revelations, but never signs, wonders, or mighty deeds. “I will come,’ says he, “to visions and revelations of the Lord ;’”’ and then proceeds to describe a particular instance, and afterwards adds, ‘‘ Lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given me a thorn in the flesh.” Upon the whole, the matter admits of no softening qual- ification, or ambiguity whatever. If St. Paul did not work actual, sensible, public miracles, he has knowingly, in these letters, borne his testimony to a falsehood. I need not add, that, in two also of the quotations, he has advanced his assertion in the face of those persons among whom he de- clares the miracles to have been wrought. Let it be remembered, that the Acts of the Apostles de- scribed various particular miracles wrought by St. Paul, which in their nature answer to the terms and expressions which we have seen to be used by St. Paul himself. Here, then, we have a man of liberal attainments, and in other points, of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the service of the gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of his purpose, travelling from country to country, enduring every species of hardship, encountering every “extremity of At trates, scourged, beat, stoned, left for dead; expecting, ame, a renewal of the same treatment and dancer, assaulted by the populace, punished by the magis- wherever he c the same dangers, yet, when driven from one city, preaching ree Peers ts it ee err eer? Tree eee Pee here. ae ae re eee ee ee te eee eo ee ee ee ee ey ee ee eee peo eee oe ee$24 wap e+ $o:6b aoe ee tree a ee oe id a ae ie Ee Ee ee ee oe at ee eee ee ee he ee ee ey eee ee eee eee ‘ 224 HORA. PAUGIN ZA. in the next; spending his whole time in the snployment, sacrificing to it his pleasures, his ease, his salety ; persisting in this course to old age, unaltered by the experience of per- verseness, ingratitude, prejudice, desertion ; unsubdued by anxiety, want, labor, persecutions ; unwearied by long con- finement, undismayed by the prospect of death. Such was St. Paul. We have his letters in our hands; we have also a history purporting to be written by one of his fellow-trav- ellers, and appearing, by a comparison with these letters, certainly to have been written by some person well ae- quainted with the transactions of his life. From the letters, as well as from the history, we gather-not only the account which we have stated of him, but that he was one out of many who acted and suflered in the same manner; and that of those who did so, several had been the companions of Christ’s ministry, the ocular witnesses, or pretending to be such, of his miracles, and of his resurrection. We moreover find this same person referring in his letters to his super- natural conversion, the particulars and accompanying cir- cumstances of which are related in the history, and which accompanying circumstances, if all or any of them be true, render it impossible to have been a delus#m. We also find -him positively, and in appropriate terms, asserting that he himself worked miracles, strictly and properly so called, in support of the mission which he executed ; the history meanwhile recording various passages of his ministry, which come up to the extent of this assertion. The question is, whether falsehood was ever attested by evidence like this. Falsehoods, we know, have found their way into reports, into tradition, into books: but is an example to be met with, of a man voluntarily undertaking a life of want and pain, of incessant fatigue, of continual peril; submitting to the loss of his home and country, to stripes and stoning, to tedious im- prisonment, and the constant expectation of a violent death, for the sake of carrying about a story of what was false, and of what, if false, he must have known to be so?res Crd el ved sa eoges ee ee ee on eS Se 4 SY ‘ c ‘4 ‘ > o) f f t 4 n “ + u ee ee eee recet i tortie re foe Sat eee $eoe4 Se teverey a Me o ee te ro et eae ee ee ha i 2 Sn eo eas fe te a)) * ~ ad ed » “s f * Stesniaee ae ® i + ¥ €ry LieLeaceasesaksPLEASE RETURN TO ALDERMAN LIBRARY DUE DUE 2 Bed eiaiesl- ST 2 7 a) a ty i # “a ' Pa cs he et te ees Teel Sosa ak eee ee ee esXX OOL 495 28 = 4 awe eee ee ee ee ee 3 cI 4 “ thn wnk es RSET CORLELS ee te ae re cee