textfiles/etext/NONFICTION/hume-dialogues-732.txt

              Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion

                                

                           David Hume

                                

                              1779

                                

                                

                             * * * *

                                
Copyright 1997, James Fieser (jfieser@utm.edu). See end note for
details on copyright and editing conventions. This e-text is
based on the 1779 edition of Hume's Dialogues and was
electronically compared to a commercial e-text of the Dialogues.
Visual comparisons were also made to other recent printed
editions. Spelling has been modernized according to British
spelling conventions; punctuation has not been modernized. Small
capitalization has been consistently applied to proper names. See
end note for details on copyright.1

                             * * * *

                      EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION

                                

                          James Fieser

                                

     Hume's Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion ranks among the
greatest writings in the history of Western philosophy. The work
addresses the sensitive issue of the knowledge we have of God
through reason alone, and, in the process, Hume presents
arguments which undermine the classic proofs for God's existence.
The arguments in the Dialogues assume an important 18th century
distinction between natural religion and revealed religion.
Natural religion involves knowledge of God drawn from nature,
solely by the use of reasoning. Often this involves drawing
conclusions about the natural design we see in the universe.
Revealed religion, on the other hand, involves religious
knowledge derived from revelation, specifically divinely inspired
texts such as the Bible. From his earliest writings, Hume
attacked both of these alleged avenues of religious truth. In the
Treatise of Human Nature (1739-40), published when he was 27,
Hume attacks natural religion arguing that our ideas reach no
farther than our experience; since we have no experience of
divine attributes and operations, then we can have no conception
of divine attributes. In his infamous essay on miracles from An
Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748), Hume goes a step
further and attacks revealed religion. He argues that it is never
reasonable to believe in violations of natural laws, such as
reports of miracles and prophecies, which in turn are the
foundations of revealed religion. Given the rational bankruptcy
of both natural and revealed religion, what remains, for Hume, is
what he calls vulgar religion. Vulgar religion is the religious
belief of the masses, and we understand this by uncovering the
true psychological causes of these beliefs, such as emotions and
instincts. He examines vulgar religion in his Natural History of
Religion (1757), a work he composed simultaneously with the
Dialogues. The Dialogues, though, deals exclusively with the
subject of natural religion and in this work Hume offers his most
systematic critique of the subject.

     THE CHARACTERS OF THE DIALOGUES. Hume's decision to compose
this work in dialog form is significant. During the 18th century,
Great Britain was among the most free countries in Europe, and
political authorities allowed a great amount of unobstructed
expression. However, religious leaders believed that rational
proofs for God's existence were almost as integral to
Christianity as the Bible itself. Accordingly, officials viewed
direct attacks on natural theology as an abuse of free
expression. To avoid political confrontation, Hume adopted the
common literary technique of presenting controversial arguments
in dialog form. There are three principal characters in Hume's
Dialogues. On the conservative side of the issue, a character
named Cleanthes offers a posteriori arguments for God's
existence, particularly the design argument:

     (a) Machines are produced by intelligent design

     (b) Universe resembles a machine

     (c) Therefore, the universe was produced by intelligent

     design

The design argument rests on an analogy between the design we
recognize in human-created artifacts and similar design we
recognize in the universe. This similarity of design entitles us
to conclude that the universe was likewise created by intelligent
design. Most of the Dialogues focuses on aspects of the design
argument. Next, a character named Demea prefers a priori
arguments for God's existence, particularly Leibniz's
cosmological argument:

     (a) The world contains an infinite sequence of contingent

     facts;

     (b) An explanation is needed as to the origin of this whole

     infinite series, which goes beyond an explanation of each

     member in the series;

     (c) The explanation of this whole series cannot reside in

     the series itself, since the very fact of its existence

     would still need an explanation (principle of sufficient

     reason)

     (d) Therefore, there is a necessary substance which produced

     this infinite series, and which is the complete explanation

     of its own existence as well.

Earlier defenders of cosmological-type arguments, such as
Aquinas, argued that an infinite series of causes of the universe
is impossible. Thus, a first divine cause is required to start
this series of individual causes. However, Demea (and Leibniz)
assume that an infinite series of causes of the universe is
possible. Even so, Demea argues, we still need an explanation of
the entire collection of finite causes, which must be found
outside of the infinite collection of individual causes.

     Finally, a character named Philo is a skeptic who argues
against both a posteriori and a priori proofs. Philo offers a
stream of criticisms against the design argument, many of which
are now standard in discussions of the issue. For Philo, the
design argument is based on a faulty analogy: we don't know
whether the order in nature was the result of design since,
unlike our experience with the creation of machines, we did not
witness the formation of the world. The vastness of the universe
also weakens any comparison with a human artifacts: although the
universe is orderly here, it may be chaotic elsewhere. Similarly,
if intelligent design is exhibited only in a small fraction of
the universe, then we can not say it is the productive force of
the whole universe. Philo also contends that natural design may
be accounted for by nature alone, insofar as matter contains
within itself a principle of order. And even if the design of the
universe is of divine origin, we are not justified in concluding
that this divine cause is a single, all powerful, or all good
being. As to the cosmological argument, Philo argues that once we
have a sufficient explanation for each particular fact in the
infinite sequence of facts, it makes no sense to inquire about
the origin of the collection of these facts. That is, once we
adequately account for each individual fact, this constitutes a
sufficient explanation of the whole collection.

     The three characters in Hume's Dialogues are loosely based
on characters in Cicero's classic dialog, On the Nature of the
Gods and we may reasonably assume that Hume's audience recognized
this. In Cicero's dialog, a character named Cotta was a religious
skeptic, and his teacher was named Philo. Second, a character
named Balbus voiced an orthodox Stoic view of the gods, and
Balbus's teacher was named Cleanthes. Finally a character named
Velleius presented a third Epicurean view. Cicero himself
introduced and concluded his dialog, declaring Balbus the winner.
In Hume's dialog, too, the narrator declares the orthodox
Cleanthes the winner over the skeptical Philo. For Cicero, the
main issue of the dialog is not so much the existence of the
gods, but the nature of the gods, and whether they intervene.
However, for Hume the existence of God is the most prominent
issue.

     PUBLICATION OF THE DIALOGUES. Hume began work on the
Dialogues in about 1751. He apparently revised the manuscript
about 10 years later, and probably again in 1776 prior to his
death. During the last few months of his life, Hume scrambled to
make arrangements for the publication of his manuscript, which
ultimately appeared in print three years later in 1779. For more
than 100 years, the 1779 publication was the basis for other
printed editions of the Dialogues. However, because Hume did not
oversee the 1779 publication, more recent editions return to the
original manuscript, which is in the possession of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh and is currently available on microfilm.
Differences between the 1779 edition and more recent ones are
insignificant, although recent editions contain annotations which
describe the various revisions Hume made to the manuscript. In
his correspondences, Hume left an interesting paper trail
pertaining to the composition and ultimate publication of the
Dialogues. The first indication of the manuscript is in the
following letter to Gilbert Elliot of Minto, in which Hume asks
Elliot to review some "sample" parts of the manuscript (probably
Parts 1-4 from the final 12 sections):

     You wou'd perceive by the Sample I have given you, that I

     make Cleanthes the Hero of the Dialogue. Whatever you can

     think of, to strengthen that Side of the Argument, will be

     most acceptable to me. Any Propensity you imagine I have to

     the other Side, crept in upon me against my Will ... I have

     often thought, that the best way of composing a Dialogue,

     wou'd be for two Persons that are of different Opinions

     about any Question of Importance, to write alternately the

     different Parts of the Discourse, & reply to each other. By

     this Means, that vulgar Error woud be avoided, of putting

     nothing but Nonsense into the Mouth of the Adversary: And at

     the same time, a Variety of Character & Genius being upheld,

     woud make the whole look more natural & unaffected. Had it

     been my good Fortune to live near you, I shou'd have taken

     on me the Character of Philo, in the Dialogue, which you'll

     own I coud have supported naturally enough: And you woud not

     have been averse to that of Cleanthes. I believe, too, we

     coud both of us have kept our Temper very well; only, you

     have not reach'd an absolute philosophical Indifference on

     these Points. What Danger can ever come from ingenious

     Reasoning & Enquiry? The worst speculative Sceptic ever I

     knew, was a much better Man than the best superstitious

     Devotee & Bigot. I must inform you, too, that this was the

     way of thinking of the Antients on this Subject. ...  I

     cou'd wish that Cleanthes' Argument coud be so analys'd, as

     to be render'd quite formal & regular. The Propensity of the

     Mind towards it, unless that Propensity were as strong &

     universal as that to believe in our Senses & Experience,

     will still, I am afraid, be esteem'd a suspicious

     Foundation. Tis here I wish for your Assistance. ... The

     Instances I have chosen for Cleanthes are, I hope, tolerably

     happy, & the Confusion in which I represent the Sceptic

     seems natural. [March 10, 1751]

Three things are particularly noteworthy in the above passage.
First, from the start Hume tries to portray Cleanthes as the
"hero" or winner of the dialog. Second, Hume notes his conscious
attempt to present all sides of the dispute in their strongest
light, and thereby elevate the literary quality of the piece.
Third, Hume argues that no public harm will result from
considering Philo's skeptical arguments.

     Between 1751 and 1761 Hume worked on and further circulated
his manuscript; however, at least one friend discouraged him from
publishing it, presumably for political reasons. Hume thus set
the project aside, and took it up again in 1776 when he found
himself terminally ill. To secure its publication, Hume included
in his Will the following request to Adam Smith:

     To my friend Dr Adam Smith, late Professor of Moral

     Philosophy in Glasgow, I leave all my manuscripts without

     exception, desiring him to publish my Dialogues concerning

     Natural Religion, which are comprehended in this present

     bequest; but to publish no other papers which he suspects

     not to have been written within these five years, but to

     destroy them all at his leisure. And I even leave him full

     power over all my papers, except the Dialogues above

     mentioned; and though I can trust to that intimate and

     sincere friendship, which has ever subsisted between us, for

     his faithful execution of this part of my will, yet, as a

     small recompense of his pains in correcting and publishing

     this work, I leave him two hundred pounds, to be paid

     immediately after the publication of it. [January 1776]

In spite of Smith's assigned task, Smith felt that the Dialogues
should remain unpublished even after Hume's death. Smith himself
was a closet religious skeptic, and his hesitation was motivated
more by practical concern rather than religious piety. Smith
communicated his reluctance to Hume and, accordingly, in the
following letter to Smith, Hume relinquished Smith of the
immediate responsibility of publishing them:

     After reflecting more maturely on that Article of my Will by

     which I left you the Disposal of all my Papers, with a

     Request that you shou'd publish my Dialogues concerning

     natural Religion, I have become sensible, that, both on

     account of the Nature of the Work, and of your Situation, it

     may be improper to hurry on that Publication. I therefore

     take the present Opportunity of qualifying that friendly

     Request: I am content, to leave it entirely to your

     Discretion at what time you will publish that Piece, or

     whether you will publish it at all. [May 3, 1776]

In the above, Hume leaves it to Smith's discretion as to when the
Dialogues should be published. But Hume quickly became
uncomfortable with this arrangement and, a month later, asked his
long time publisher, William Strahan, to arrange for its
immediate publication:

     I am also to speak to you of another Work more important:

     Some Years ago, I composed a piece, which woud make a small

     Volume in Twelves. I call it Dialogues on natural Religion:

     Some of my Friends flatter me, that it is the best thing I

     ever wrote. I have hitherto forborne to publish it, because

     I was of late desirous to live quietly, and keep remote from

     all Clamour: For though it be not more exceptionable than

     some things I had formerly published; yet you know some of

     these were thought very exceptionable; and in prudence,

     perhaps, I ought to have suppressed them. I there introduce

     a Sceptic, who is indeed refuted, and at last gives up the

     Argument, nay confesses that he was only amusing himself by

     all his Cavils; yet before he is silenced, he advances

     several Topics, which will give Umbrage, and will be deemed

     very bold and free, as well as much out of the Common Road.

     As soon as I arrive at Edinburgh, I intend to print a small

     Edition of 500, of which I may give away about 100 in

     Presents; and shall make you a Present of the Remainder,

     together with the literary Property of the whole, provided

     you have no Scruple, in your present Situation, of being the

     Editor: It is not necessary you shoud prefix your Name to

     the Title Page. I seriously declare, that after Mr Millar

     and You and Mr Cadell have publickly avowed your Publication

     of the Enquiry concerning human Understanding, I know no

     Reason why you shoud have the least Scruple with regard to

     these Dialogues. They will be much less obnoxious to the

     Law, and not more exposed to popular Clamour. Whatever your

     Resolution be, I beg you wou'd keep an entire Silence on

     this Subject. If I leave them to you by Will, your executing

     the Desire of a dead Friend, will render the publication

     still more excusable. Mallet never sufferd any thing by

     being the Editor of Bolingbroke's Works. [June 8, 1776]

In the above, Hume acknowledges that the publication of the
Dialogues might cause some clamor because of the severity of
Philo's arguments. Again, though, he attempts to diffuse the
issue by commenting that his Dialogues are less extreme than his
Enquiry, presumably meaning his essay on miracles.

     Unfortunately, Hume's illness progressed to the point that
he would not live to see this modest printing of the Dialogues.
In an addendum to his will, Hume requested that his nephew, Baron
David Hume, see to the publication of the Dialogues if Strahan
failed:

     I desire, that my Dialogues concerning natural Religion may

     be printed and published any time within two Years after my

     Death; to which, he [William Strahan] may add, if he thinks

     proper, the two Essays formerly printed but not published.

     ... I also ordain, that if my Dialogues from whatever Cause,

     be not publishd within two Years and a half of my Death ...

     the Property shall return to my Nephew, David, whose Duty,

     in publishing them as the last Request of his Uncle, must be

     approved of by all the World. [August 7, 1776]

A week later, though, Hume considered making additional plans to
secure the survival of the Dialogues. In a letter to Adam Smith
(August 15) he notes his intentions to have two additional copies
made of his manuscript, one entrusted to his Nephew, and the
other to Smith.  Two days before his death, Hume dictated a final
letter to Smith:

          I am obliged to make use of my Nephews hand in writing

     to you as I do not rise to day.

          There is No Man in whom I have a greater Confidence

     than Mr Strahan, yet have I left the property of that

     Manuscript to my Nephew David in case by any accident it

     should not be published within three years after my decease.

     The only accident I could forsee, was one to Mr Strahans

     Life, and without this clause My Nephew would have had no

     right to publish it. Be so good as to inform Mr Strahan of

     this Circumstance. [August 23, 1776]

A week after Hume's death, Strahan received the manuscript of
Hume's Dialogues. In a letter to Strahan, Smith continued voicing
his belief that the manuscript should remain unpublished:

     The latter, tho' finely written, I could have wished had

     remained in manuscript to be communicated only to a few

     people. When you read the work, you will see my reasons

     without my giving you the trouble of reading them in a

     letter. But he [Hume] has ordered it otherwise. . . . I once

     had perswaded him to leave it entirely to my discretion

     either to publish them at what time I thought proper, or not

     to publish them at all. Had he continued of this mind the

     manuscript should have been most carefully preserved and

     upon my decease restored to his family; but it never should

     have been published in my lifetime. [September 5, 1776]

Smith continues in the above letter attempting to persuade
Strahan to at least publish the Dialogues in an edition separate
from Hume's forthcoming short autobiography. Strahan apparently
agreed, and the autobiography was published separately in 1777.
Smith wrote him the following note of thanks to Strahan,
explaining how sales of Hume's other works might be enhanced by
properly timing the release of the Dialogues:

     I am much obliged to you for so readily agreeing to print

     the life together with my additions separate from the

     Dialogues. I even flatter myself that this arrangement will

     contribute not only to my quiet but to your interest. The

     clamour against the Dialogues, if published first, might

     hurt for some time the sale of the new edition of his works,

     and when the clamour has a little subsided the Dialogues may

     hereafter occasion a quicker sale of another edition.

     [October, 1776]

Almost a half of a year later, Strahan was still undecided about
whether he would even assume the task of publishing Hume's
Dialogues. In the following letter to Hume's nephew, Strahan
explains that it might appear better if it was published by the
nephew himself.

     As for Mr. Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion, I am not

     yet determined whether I shall publish them or not. I have

     all possible regard to the will of the deceased: But as that

     can be as well fulfilled by you as by me, and as the

     publication will probably make some noise in the world, and

     its tendency be considered in different lights by different

     men, I am inclined to think it had better be made by you.

     From you some will conclude it comes with propriety as done

     in obedience to the last request of your Uncle; as he

     himself expresses it; from me it might be suspect to proceed

     from motives of interest. But in this matter I hope you will

     do me the justice to believe I put interest wholly out of

     the question. However, you shall not, at any rate, be kept

     long in suspense, as you shall soon have my final

     resolution. [February 3, 1777]

Ultimately, Strahan made his decision and declined to publish the
Dialogues. In a letter to Hume's brother (i.e., the father of
Hume's nephew) Strahan repeats his reasoning that  the Dialogues
"might be published with more propriety" by the nephew (March 3,
1777).

     The almost absurd preoccupation with public image continued
as Hume's brother strategized as to how long his son should delay
in bringing the Dialogues to the press. Hume's brother recorded
his thoughts in a reply to Strahan:

     My opinion was that he [i.e., his son, and Hume's nephew]

     should delay the publication of the dialogues on Natural

     Religion till the end of the two years, after this that he

     had a title by his uncles settlement upon your not

     publication of them; otherways it carried the appearance of

     being too forward, and of more than he was called upon in

     duty; and if a clamour rose against it, he would have a

     difficult task to support himself, almost in the

     commencement of his manhood. What weighs with him is, that

     his publishing as early as he had the power, would look more

     like obedience, than a voluntary deed, and of judgement; and

     exculpate him in the eyes of the world... [March 13, 1777]

Indeed, Hume's nephew delayed for two years and the Dialogues
finally appeared in the middle of 1779. Upon its publication,
Hume's friend Hugh Blair wrote to Strahan commenting on the lack
of "noise" that it produced.

     As to D. Hume's Dialogues, I am surprised that though they

     have now been published for some time, they have made so

     little noise. They are exceedingly elegant. They bring

     together some of his most exceptionable reasonings, but the

     principles themselves were all in his former works. [August

     3, 1779]

Within the following few months, four reviews of Hume's Dialogues
appeared, each of which confirmed Blair's initial reaction. The
first review to appear was the lead article in the Critical
Review journal. The review opened noting that "neither the
friends of religion have any occasion to be alarmed, nor her
enemies to triumph. Freedom of enquiry can never be injurious to
the cause of truth." The reviewer concludes with only mild
criticism arguing that "If the objections advanced by Philo had
been produced with modesty, and answered by Cleanthes as fully as
the nature of the question would have allowed, the author would
have been applauded by every sensible and discerning reader. But
when they are proposed with an air of triumph and defiance, this
work assumes a more disadvantageous form, the aspect of
infidelity." (September 1779, Vol. 48, pp. 161-172). The second
review of the Dialogues which appeared in the London Review  was
more flattering. The review expresses hope that  "it will prove
no unacceptable present to the orthodox" and concludes that
"...in our opinion, whoever carefully peruses these Dialogues
will not readily be infected with either of the two greatest
corruptions of religion, enthusiasm or superstition"   (1779,
Vol. 10, pp. 365-373).

     Finally, William Rose's review in the Monthly Review opens
noting that the Dialogues are "written with great elegance; in
the true spirit of ancient dialogue; and, in point of
composition, is equal, if not superior, to any of Mr. Hume's
other writings. Nothing new, however, is advanced upon the
subjects." Rose concludes, though, on a more negatively. For
Rose, if Hume is right that God does not exist, then "the wicked
are set free from every restraint but that of the laws... the
world we live in is a fatherless world; we are chained down to a
life full of wretchedness and misery; and we have no hope beyond
the grave." Rose notes that "Hume had been long floating on the
boundless and pathless ocean of scepticism..." and Hume should
have desired a more secure peace at the end of his life. "But his
love of paradox, his inordinate pursuit of literary fame,
continued..." and, for Rose, this formed Hume's motive for
publishing the Dialogues. Rose acknowledges that Hume lived a
virtuous life, and suggests that Hume's natural good temper,
education, and fortune overcame the negative effects of his
philosophy. But if his philosophy was let loose among humankind,
Rose asks, "Will those who think they are to die like brutes,
ever act like men?" Rose believes that even the best political
system needs to be supplemented with fear of divine punishment to
curb immortality within the law. Nevertheless, Rose concedes that
philosophically minded readers will not be harmed by the
Dialogues, although the Dialogues "may serve, indeed, to
confirm... the unprincipled in their prejudices...." (November
1779, Vol. 61, pp. 343-355)

     INTERPRETIONS OF THE DIALOGUES. In Hume's day, as now, the
two key interpretive questions of the Dialogues were (1) Which
character, if any, represents Hume?, and (2) What are the views
of that character? Given its literary style, the Dialogues
involve a complex web of concealment, and, accordingly, Hume's
contemporaries took greater pains to understand the hidden
meaning of the Dialogues. Virtually all early commentators on the
Dialogues attempted to identify Philo as Hume's mouthpiece, as
Rose does below in his review when declaring Philo the hero:

                                

     Cleanthes... defends a good cause very feebly, and is by no

     means entitled to the character of an accurate philosopher.

     Demea supports the character of a sour, croaking divine,

     very tolerably; but P/HILO\ is the hero of the piece; and it

     must be acknowledged, that he urges his objections with no

     inconsiderable degree of acuteness and subtlety.

                                
The London Review also made this clear from the outset of their
review:

                                

     The following sentiments, which are represented as the

     genuine opinions of Philo, or Hume himself, seem to us so

     important as to deserve insertion as a specimen of the

     whole.

                                
For the reviewer, the representative sections of Philo's views
are the first half of Part XII of the Dialogues in which Philo
reduces the conflict between atheism and theism to a verbal
dispute. The reviewer concludes that "This reconciliation of
these two seemingly most distant opponents, is of more service to
true religion than volumes of divinity...." The reviewer is
reflecting the editorial slant of the London Review as a whole,
which tended to be religiously skeptical.

     Thomas Hayter made efforts to establish clearly that Philo,
and not Cleanthes, speaks for Hume. The introductory comments to
his Remarks focus exclusively on this issue. After quoting
Pamphilius' portrayal of the three characters, Hayter argues,

                                

     From this representation one might at first be led to look

     for Mr. H/UME\ himself under the mask of C/LEANTHES\, and to

     expect from the mouth of C/LEANTHES\ the celebrated

     Metaphysician's own sentiments. Let us consider however that

     Mr. H/UME\, after the great nominal superiority attributed

     to C/LEANTHES\, could not possibly, without appearance of

     vanity, have appointed C/LEANTHES\ his representative. The

     fact indeed indisputably is, that P/HILO\, not C/LEANTHES\,

     personates Mr. H/UME\. C/LEANTHES\ assumes at times (p. 242

     and 244) the tone of D/EMEA\: while P/HILO\  possesses in

     general the sole exclusive privilege of retailing the

     purport of Mr. H/UME\'s former Philosophical productions. --

     Every remarkable trait and feature of those productions may

     be traced in the parts of the Dialogue assigned to P/HILO\.2

                                

     Other critics attempted to expose a deeper concealment on
Hume's part. Joseph Milner in his Gibbon's account of
Christianity considered argues that Hume is insincere when
pronouncing Cleanthes the victor of the debate:

                                

     In his dialogues concerning natural religion, we have the

     substance of all his sceptical essays; and notwithstanding

     his declaration at the close in favour of Cleanthes, the

     natural religionist, it is evident from the whole tenour of

     the book, and still more so from the entire scepticism of

     his former publications, that Philo is his favourite.

     Sincerity constitutes no part of a philosopher's virtue.

                                
He continues that Hume's aim is to "reduce Polytheism, Spinozism,
Christianity, and all sorts of views of the divinity to the same
level of evidence, or rather of no evidence; and on the ruin of
all, to establish his horrible universal scepticism."3

     Perhaps the most penetrating analysis of Philo was given by
John Ogilvie in his Inquiry into the causes of the infidelity and
scepticism of the times. Like his contemporaries, Ogilvie argues
that Philo is Hume's mouthpiece.4 However, Ogilvie charges
further that even Philo's concessions cannot be taken at face
value:

                                

     ...Philo expresseth, in very strong terms, his belief of a

     Deity, such as he represents him. He even thanks this Being,

     or Mind, or Thought, that atheists are very rare. And,

     notwithstanding his love of singular argument, he professeth

     to pay to him profound adoration. P. 232. But, as Philo's

     declarations upon this subject are contradictory, I

     construct his notions most favourably, when I consider him

     as excluding a Deity from the universe.

                                
For Ogilvie, Hume is involved in double concealment. First, he
conceals his views behind the veil of the character of Philo.
Second, Philo himself is concealing his true views by making
empty concessions toward God's existence. Ogilvie's discussion of
Philo's concealment is particularly relevant in view of the 20th
century commentators, noted above, who take Philo's concessions
as sincere.

     Ogilvie continues that, for Philo, the options for believing
in the creation of the universe are between "a blind nature" or
"an Omnipotent Tyrant, having neither wisdom, justice, goodness,
nor any perfection." Ogilvie argues that it would please us "much
better to think that this world was formed by a fortuitous
concourse of atoms... rather than to view it as framed by an
intelligent Mind to be an immense Lazar-house, crowded with the
victims of disease...." Given Philo's view of the intelligent
mind, Ogilvie asks that we

                                

     ...judge whether he who looks up to such a Being can

     seriously worship Him with 'profound adoration.' I repeat,

     therefore, that I construct his contradictory assertions

     most favourably when I consider 'a blind nature' as the

     object of his belief, rather than such a cause of all things

     as being entitled to his homage.

                                
Ogilvie concludes by focusing on Philo's concession of thanks to
the creator "that Atheists are rarely to be met with." Ogilvie
asks,

                                

     To whom, Sir, let me ask, are your thanks addressed upon

     this occasion? Are they offered to that Intelligence who

     "involves individuals in ruin and misery?" Are they due to

     the "coarse Artificer, the Author of physical and moral

     evil, &c. &c. &c.?" With much more reason may you thank Him

     for having so framed His work, as that His miserable

     creatures by denying His existence, may turn from objects

     that cannot be viewed with other feelings than those of

     horror and detestation.

                                
This feature of double concealment was also recognized by George
Horne in his Letters on infidelity (1784). In that work Horne
presents "A dialogue between Thomas and Timothy on philosophical
skepticism" which exposes Hume's literary device. Horne's
dialogue opens,

                                

     Tim. ... Where art [you] going this morning?

     Tom. I am going to be made a Christian.

     Tim. The very last thing I should have dreamed of. But pray,

          who is to make you one?

     Tim. David Hume.

     Tom. David Hume? Why, I thought he was an Atheist.

     Tim. The world never was more mistaken about any one man,

          than about David Hume. He was deemed a sworn foe to

          Christianity, whereas his whole life was spent in its

          service. His works compose altogether a complete

          Praeparatio Evangelica. They lead men gently, and

          gradually, as it were to the Gospel... here is chapter

          and verse for you. Dialogues concerning Natural

          Religion, p. 263, "To be a philosophical sceptic, is,

          in a man of letters, the first and most essential step

          towards being a sound believing Christian." (pp. 49-50)

                                
Horne's dialogue proceeds farcically with Timothy and Thomas each
producing evidence from Hume's Dialogue in defense of their
respective interpretations of Hume. Horne, of course, did not
believe that Hume's life was spent in service of Christianity (as
Timothy does in Horne's dialog).

     In recent years there has been an even greater diversity of
interpretations of the Dialogues and many commentators argue that
Hume was not as critical of natural religion as his reputation
would have us believe. Here is a sample of some of the recent
interpretations of Hume, beginning with the most "moderate."
Nicholas Capaldi argues that Hume outright accepted the design
argument for God's existence.5 Similarly, according to James
O'Higgins, Hume accepted the design argument, although remained
skeptical about the entire enterprise of reasoning. For
O'Higgins, Hume reluctantly conceded God's existence, yet, like
the Deists, denied that God concerns himself with governing the
world.6 J.C.A. Gaskin sees Hume as an attenuated deist insofar as
Hume held that there was a weak probability that natural order
resulted from an intelligence remotely analogous to our own. For
Gaskin, Hume maintains that this weak probability combines with
our more subjective human feeling that natural order springs from
a designer, hence we assent to the existence of a designer
(although this being has no moral claim on us). Norman Kemp Smith
argues that religion for Hume consists exclusively in an
intellectual assent to the proposition "God exists." Kemp Smith
concludes, though, that religion for Hume ought not to have any
influence on human conduct.7 Similarly, for B.A.O. Williams,
Hume's religion consisted of merely holding open the possibility
of an intelligent creator.8

     Ernest C. Mossner argues that Hume denied all supernatural
and conventional religion, but advanced a "religion of man"
insofar as Hume optimistically believed that the enlightened
determine the fate of humanity and are the measure of all
things.9 Similarly, Donald Livingston argues that Hume offers a
"philosophical theism" which is an historically determined
natural belief, yet one which eschews the writings and rituals of
the theistic tradition.10 It should be noted, however, that even
if Mossner and Livingston have captured Hume's views, it is
difficult to see how this could qualify as a religion by 18th
century standards, and it is hard to believe that Hume would want
to classify it as such. Finally, for James Noxon, Hume is simply
an agnostic (as opposed to an atheist):

     no one of the characters in the Dialogues... speaks

     consistently for Hume. Every attempt to identify Hume's

     spokesman could be forestalled by quoting lines given to

     that speaker which were inconsistent with statements

     published elsewhere under Hume's own name.11

Insofar as no one of the characters speaks consistently for Hume,
Noxon argues that this expresses Hume's view about the limits of
human understanding and, consequently, indicates that Hume is an
agnostic.

     Most of the above contemporary debate about Hume's views
traces back to three sources. First, in Hume's Natural History of
Religion, in no less than nine passages Hume seems to defend the
design argument for God's existence. Second, in several of Hume's
above quoted letters (to Gilbert Elliot and William Strahan) Hume
appears sympathetic to Cleanthes' position. Third, in the
concluding section of the Dialogues Hume seems to endorse the
design argument: Cleanthes, the defender of natural religion,
wins the debate, and Philo, the religious skeptic, eventually
concedes that "the cause or causes of order in the universe
probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence."
However, all three of these sources can be seen, and probably
should be seen, as instances of concealment. Although
contemporary commentators do note Hume's use of irony in his
writings, they have lost sight of how pervasive and complex it
is, especially with politically sensitive issues such as
religion. Early commentators had this well in view when they
interpreted Hume. They lived at the same time and under the same
political conditions as Hume did, and they were accustomed to the
decoding the concealed meaning in other nontraditional writers.
The principle value of Horne's farcical dialog between Tim and
Tom is that it shows the absurdity of seeing Philo as a champion
of religion, especially in the pivotal Part 12 of the Dialogues.
From Horne's perspective, contemporary commentators who take Part
12 as evidence for Hume's theism have fallen into Hume's trap.

                             * * * *

                                

                     PAMPHILUS TO HERMIPPUS

     It has been remarked, my H/ERMIPPUS\, that though the
ancient philosophers conveyed most of their instruction in the
form of dialogue, this method of composition has been little
practised in later ages, and has seldom succeeded in the hands of
those who have attempted it. Accurate and regular argument,
indeed, such as is now expected of philosophical inquirers,
naturally throws a man into the methodical and didactic manner;
where he can immediately, without preparation, explain the point
at which he aims; and thence proceed, without interruption, to
deduce the proofs on which it is established. To deliver a
S/YSTEM\ in conversation, scarcely appears natural; and while the
dialogue-writer desires, by departing from the direct style of
composition, to give a freer air to his performance, and avoid
the appearance of Author and Reader, he is apt to run into a
worse inconvenience, and convey the image of Pedagogue and Pupil.
Or, if he carries on the dispute in the natural spirit of good
company, by throwing in a variety of topics, and preserving a
proper balance among the speakers, he often loses so much time in
preparations and transitions, that the reader will scarcely think
himself compensated, by all the graces of dialogue, for the
order, brevity, and precision, which are sacrificed to them.

     There are some subjects, however, to which dialogue-writing
is peculiarly adapted, and where it is still preferable to the
direct and simple method of composition.

     Any point of doctrine, which is so obvious that it scarcely
admits of dispute, but at the same time so important that it
cannot be too often inculcated, seems to require some such method
of handling it; where the novelty of the manner may compensate
the triteness of the subject; where the vivacity of conversation
may enforce the precept; and where the variety of lights,
presented by various personages and characters, may appear
neither tedious nor redundant.

     Any question of philosophy, on the other hand, which is so
obscure and uncertain, that human reason can reach no fixed
determination with regard to it; if it should be treated at all,
seems to lead us naturally into the style of dialogue and
conversation. Reasonable men may be allowed to differ, where no
one can reasonably be positive. Opposite sentiments, even without
any decision, afford an agreeable amusement; and if the subject
be curious and interesting, the book carries us, in a manner,
into company; and unites the two greatest and purest pleasures of
human life, study and society.

     Happily, these circumstances are all to be found in the
subject of /NATURAL RELIGION\. What truth so obvious, so certain,
as the being of a God, which the most ignorant ages have
acknowledged, for which the most refined geniuses have
ambitiously striven to produce new proofs and arguments? What
truth so important as this, which is the ground of all our hopes,
the surest foundation of morality, the firmest support of
society, and the only principle which ought never to be a moment
absent from our thoughts and meditations? But, in treating of
this obvious and important truth, what obscure questions occur
concerning the nature of that Divine Being, his attributes, his
decrees, his plan of providence? These have been always subjected
to the disputations of men; concerning these human reason has not
reached any certain determination. But these are topics so
interesting, that we cannot restrain our restless inquiry with
regard to them; though nothing but doubt, uncertainty, and
contradiction, have as yet been the result of our most accurate
researches.

     This I had lately occasion to observe, while I passed, as
usual, part of the summer season with C/LEANTHES\, and was
present at those conversations of his with P/HILO\ and D/EMEA\,
of which I gave you lately some imperfect account. Your
curiosity, you then told me, was so excited, that I must, of
necessity, enter into a more exact detail of their reasonings,
and display those various systems which they advanced with regard
to so delicate a subject as that of natural religion. The
remarkable contrast in their characters still further raised your
expectations; while you opposed the accurate philosophical turn
of C/LEANTHES\ to the careless scepticism of P/HILO\, or compared
either of their dispositions with the rigid inflexible orthodoxy
of D/EMEA\. My youth rendered me a mere auditor of their
disputes; and that curiosity, natural to the early season of
life, has so deeply imprinted in my memory the whole chain and
connection of their arguments, that, I hope, I shall not omit or
confound any considerable part of them in the recital.

                             * * * *

                             PART 1

     After I joined the company, whom I found sitting in
C/LEANTHES\'s library, D/EMEA\ paid C/LEANTHES\ some compliments
on the great care which he took of my education, and on his
unwearied perseverance and constancy in all his friendships. The
father of P/AMPHILUS\, said he, was your intimate friend: The son
is your pupil; and may indeed be regarded as your adopted son,
were we to judge by the pains which you bestow in conveying to
him every useful branch of literature and science. You are no
more wanting, I am persuaded, in prudence, than in industry. I
shall, therefore, communicate to you a maxim, which I have
observed with regard to my own children, that I may learn how far
it agrees with your practice. The method I follow in their
education is founded on the saying of an ancient, "That students
of philosophy ought first to learn logics, then ethics, next
physics, last of all the nature of the gods."12 This science of
natural theology, according to him, being the most profound and
abstruse of any, required the maturest judgement in its students;
and none but a mind enriched with all the other sciences, can
safely be entrusted with it.

     Are you so late, says P/HILO\, in teaching your children the
principles of religion? Is there no danger of their neglecting,
or rejecting altogether those opinions of which they have heard
so little during the whole course of their education? It is only
as a science, replied D/EMEA\, subjected to human reasoning and
disputation, that I postpone the study of Natural Theology. To
season their minds with early piety, is my chief care; and by
continual precept and instruction, and I hope too by example, I
imprint deeply on their tender minds an habitual reverence for
all the principles of religion. While they pass through every
other science, I still remark the uncertainty of each part; the
eternal disputations of men; the obscurity of all philosophy; and
the strange, ridiculous conclusions, which some of the greatest
geniuses have derived from the principles of mere human reason.
Having thus tamed their mind to a proper submission and self-
diffidence, I have no longer any scruple of opening to them the
greatest mysteries of religion; nor apprehend any danger from
that assuming arrogance of philosophy, which may lead them to
reject the most established doctrines and opinions.

     Your precaution, says P/HILO\, of seasoning your children's
minds early with piety, is certainly very reasonable; and no more
than is requisite in this profane and irreligious age. But what I
chiefly admire in your plan of education, is your method of
drawing advantage from the very principles of philosophy and
learning, which, by inspiring pride and self-sufficiency, have
commonly, in all ages, been found so destructive to the
principles of religion. The vulgar, indeed, we may remark, who
are unacquainted with science and profound inquiry, observing the
endless disputes of the learned, have commonly a thorough
contempt for philosophy; and rivet themselves the faster, by that
means, in the great points of theology which have been taught
them. Those who enter a little into study and study and inquiry,
finding many appearances of evidence in doctrines the newest and
most extraordinary, think nothing too difficult for human reason;
and, presumptuously breaking through all fences, profane the
inmost sanctuaries of the temple. But C/LEANTHES\ will, I hope,
agree with me, that, after we have abandoned ignorance, the
surest remedy, there is still one expedient left to prevent this
profane liberty. Let D/EMEA\'s principles be improved and
cultivated: Let us become thoroughly sensible of the weakness,
blindness, and narrow limits of human reason: Let us duly
consider its uncertainty and endless contrarieties, even in
subjects of common life and practice: Let the errors and deceits
of our very senses be set before us; the insuperable difficulties
which attend first principles in all systems; the contradictions
which adhere to the very ideas of matter, cause and effect,
extension, space, time, motion; and in a word, quantity of all
kinds, the object of the only science that can fairly pretend to
any certainty or evidence. When these topics are displayed in
their full light, as they are by some philosophers and almost all
divines; who can retain such confidence in this frail faculty of
reason as to pay any regard to its determinations in points so
sublime, so abstruse, so remote from common life and experience?
When the coherence of the parts of a stone, or even that
composition of parts which renders it extended; when these
familiar objects, I say, are so inexplicable, and contain
circumstances so repugnant and contradictory; with what assurance
can we decide concerning the origin of worlds, or trace their
history from eternity to eternity?

     While P/HILO\ pronounced these words, I could observe a
smile in the countenance both of D/EMEA\ and C/LEANTHES\. That of
D/EMEA\ seemed to imply an unreserved satisfaction in the
doctrines delivered: But, in C/LEANTHES\'s features, I could
distinguish an air of finesse; as if he perceived some raillery
or artificial malice in the reasonings of P/HILO\.

     You propose then, P/HILO\, said C/LEANTHES\, to erect
religious faith on philosophical scepticism; and you think, that
if certainty or evidence be expelled from every other subject of
inquiry, it will all retire to these theological doctrines, and
there acquire a superior force and authority. Whether your
scepticism be as absolute and sincere as you pretend, we shall
learn by and by, when the company breaks up: We shall then see,
whether you go out at the door or the window; and whether you
really doubt if your body has gravity, or can be injured by its
fall; according to popular opinion, derived from our fallacious
senses, and more fallacious experience. And this consideration,
D/EMEA\, may, I think, fairly serve to abate our ill-will to this
humorous sect of the sceptics. If they be thoroughly in earnest,
they will not long trouble the world with their doubts, cavils,
and disputes: If they be only in jest, they are, perhaps, bad
raillers; but can never be very dangerous, either to the state,
to philosophy, or to religion.

     In reality, P/HILO\, continued he, it seems certain, that
though a man, in a flush of humour, after intense reflection on
the many contradictions and imperfections of human reason, may
entirely renounce all belief and opinion, it is impossible for
him to persevere in this total scepticism, or make it appear in
his conduct for a few hours. External objects press in upon him;
passions solicit him; his philosophical melancholy dissipates;
and even the utmost violence upon his own temper will not be
able, during any time, to preserve the poor appearance of
scepticism. And for what reason impose on himself such a
violence? This is a point in which it will be impossible for him
ever to satisfy himself, consistently with his sceptical
principles. So that, upon the whole, nothing could be more
ridiculous than the principles of the ancient P/YRRHONIANS\; if
in reality they endeavoured, as is pretended, to extend,
throughout, the same scepticism which they had learned from the
declamations of their schools, and which they ought to have
confined to them.

     In this view, there appears a great resemblance between the
sects of the S/TOICS\ and P/YRRHONIANS\, though perpetual
antagonists; and both of them seem founded on this erroneous
maxim, That what a man can perform sometimes, and in some
dispositions, he can perform always, and in every disposition.
When the mind, by Stoical reflections, is elevated into a sublime
enthusiasm of virtue, and strongly smit with any species of
honour or public good, the utmost bodily pain and sufferings will
not prevail over such a high sense of duty; and it is possible,
perhaps, by its means, even to smile and exult in the midst of
tortures. If this sometimes may be the case in fact and reality,
much more may a philosopher, in his school, or even in his
closet, work himself up to such an enthusiasm, and support in
imagination the acutest pain or most calamitous event which he
can possibly conceive. But how shall he support this enthusiasm
itself? The bent of his mind relaxes, and cannot be recalled at
pleasure; avocations lead him astray; misfortunes attack him
unawares; and the philosopher sinks by degrees into the plebeian.

     I allow of your comparison between the S/TOICS\ and
S/KEPTICS\, replied P/HILO\. But you may observe, at the same
time, that though the mind cannot, in Stoicism, support the
highest flights of philosophy, yet, even when it sinks lower, it
still retains somewhat of its former disposition; and the effects
of the Stoic's reasoning will appear in his conduct in common
life, and through the whole tenor of his actions. The ancient
schools, particularly that of Z/ENO\, produced examples of virtue
and constancy which seem astonishing to present times.

     Vain Wisdom all and false Philosophy.

     Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm

     Pain, for a while, or anguish; and excite

     Fallacious Hope, or arm the obdurate breast

     With stubborn Patience, as with triple steel.13

     In like manner, if a man has accustomed himself to sceptical
considerations on the uncertainty and narrow limits of reason, he
will not entirely forget them when he turns his reflection on
other subjects; but in all his philosophical principles and
reasoning, I dare not say in his common conduct, he will be found
different from those, who either never formed any opinions in the
case, or have entertained sentiments more favourable to human
reason.

     To whatever length any one may push his speculative
principles of scepticism, he must act, I own, and live, and
converse, like other men; and for this conduct he is not obliged
to give any other reason, than the absolute necessity he lies
under of so doing. If he ever carries his speculations further
than this necessity constrains him, and philosophises either on
natural or moral subjects, he is allured by a certain pleasure
and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself after that
manner. He considers besides, that every one, even in common
life, is constrained to have more or less of this philosophy;
that from our earliest infancy we make continual advances in
forming more general principles of conduct and reasoning; that
the larger experience we acquire, and the stronger reason we are
endued with, we always render our principles the more general and
comprehensive; and that what we call philosophy is nothing but a
more regular and methodical operation of the same kind. To
philosophise on such subjects, is nothing essentially different
from reasoning on common life; and we may only expect greater
stability, if not greater truth, from our philosophy, on account
of its exacter and more scrupulous method of proceeding.

     But when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of
the surrounding bodies: when we carry our speculations into the
two eternities, before and after the present state of things;
into the creation and formation of the universe; the existence
and properties of spirits; the powers and operations of one
universal Spirit existing without beginning and without end;
omnipotent, omniscient, immutable, infinite, and
incomprehensible: We must be far removed from the smallest
tendency to scepticism not to be apprehensive, that we have here
got quite beyond the reach of our faculties. So long as we
confine our speculations to trade, or morals, or politics, or
criticism, we make appeals, every moment, to common sense and
experience, which strengthen our philosophical conclusions, and
remove, at least in part, the suspicion which we so justly
entertain with regard to every reasoning that is very subtle and
refined. But, in theological reasonings, we have not this
advantage; while, at the same time, we are employed upon objects,
which, we must be sensible, are too large for our grasp, and of
all others, require most to be familiarised to our apprehension.
We are like foreigners in a strange country, to whom every thing
must seem suspicious, and who are in danger every moment of
transgressing against the laws and customs of the people with
whom they live and converse. We know not how far we ought to
trust our vulgar methods of reasoning in such a subject; since,
even in common life, and in that province which is peculiarly
appropriated to them, we cannot account for them, and are
entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing
them.

     All sceptics pretend, that, if reason be considered in an
abstract view, it furnishes invincible arguments against itself;
and that we could never retain any conviction or assurance, on
any subject, were not the sceptical reasonings so refined and
subtle, that they are not able to counterpoise the more solid and
more natural arguments derived from the senses and experience.
But it is evident, whenever our arguments lose this advantage,
and run wide of common life, that the most refined scepticism
comes to be upon a footing with them, and is able to oppose and
counterbalance them. The one has no more weight than the other.
The mind must remain in suspense between them; and it is that
very suspense or balance, which is the triumph of scepticism.

     But I observe, says C/LEANTHES\, with regard to you,
P/HILO\, and all speculative sceptics, that your doctrine and
practice are as much at variance in the most abstruse points of
theory as in the conduct of common life. Wherever evidence
discovers itself, you adhere to it, notwithstanding your
pretended scepticism; and I can observe, too, some of your sect
to be as decisive as those who make greater professions of
certainty and assurance. In reality, would not a man be
ridiculous, who pretended to reject N/EWTON\'s explication of the
wonderful phenomenon of the rainbow, because that explication
gives a minute anatomy of the rays of light; a subject, forsooth,
too refined for human comprehension? And what would you say to
one, who, having nothing particular to object to the arguments of
C/OPERNICUS\ and G/ALILEO\ for the motion of the earth, should
withhold his assent, on that general principle, that these
subjects were too magnificent and remote to be explained by the
narrow and fallacious reason of mankind?

     There is indeed a kind of brutish and ignorant scepticism,
as you well observed, which gives the vulgar a general prejudice
against what they do not easily understand, and makes them reject
every principle which requires elaborate reasoning to prove and
establish it. This species of scepticism is fatal to knowledge,
not to religion; since we find, that those who make greatest
profession of it, give often their assent, not only to the great
truths of Theism and natural theology, but even to the most
absurd tenets which a traditional superstition has recommended to
them. They firmly believe in witches, though they will not
believe nor attend to the most simple proposition of Euclid. But
the refined and philosophical sceptics fall into an inconsistence
of an opposite nature. They push their researches into the most
abstruse corners of science; and their assent attends them in
every step, proportioned to the evidence which they meet with.
They are even obliged to acknowledge, that the most abstruse and
remote objects are those which are best explained by philosophy.
Light is in reality anatomised. The true system of the heavenly
bodies is discovered and ascertained. But the nourishment of
bodies by food is still an inexplicable mystery. The cohesion of
the parts of matter is still incomprehensible. These sceptics,
therefore, are obliged, in every question, to consider each
particular evidence apart, and proportion their assent to the
precise degree of evidence which occurs. This is their practice
in all natural, mathematical, moral, and political science. And
why not the same, I ask, in the theological and religious? Why
must conclusions of this nature be alone rejected on the general
presumption of the insufficiency of human reason, without any
particular discussion of the evidence? Is not such an unequal
conduct a plain proof of prejudice and passion?

     Our senses, you say, are fallacious; our understanding
erroneous; our ideas, even of the most familiar objects,
extension, duration, motion, full of absurdities and
contradictions. You defy me to solve the difficulties, or
reconcile the repugnancies which you discover in them. I have not
capacity for so great an undertaking: I have not leisure for it:
I perceive it to be superfluous. Your own conduct, in every
circumstance, refutes your principles, and shows the firmest
reliance on all the received maxims of science, morals, prudence,
and behaviour. I shall never assent to so harsh an opinion as
that of a celebrated writer,14 who says, that the Sceptics are
not a sect of philosophers: They are only a sect of liars. I may,
however, affirm (I hope without offence), that they are a sect of
jesters or raillers. But for my part, whenever I find myself
disposed to mirth and amusement, I shall certainly choose my
entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse nature. A comedy,
a novel, or at most a history, seems a more natural recreation
than such metaphysical subtleties and abstractions.

     In vain would the sceptic make a distinction between science
and common life, or between one science and another. The
arguments employed in all, if just, are of a similar nature, and
contain the same force and evidence. Or if there be any
difference among them, the advantage lies entirely on the side of
theology and natural religion. Many principles of mechanics are
founded on very abstruse reasoning; yet no man who has any
pretensions to science, even no speculative sceptic, pretends to
entertain the least doubt with regard to them. The C/OPERNICAN\
system contains the most surprising paradox, and the most
contrary to our natural conceptions, to appearances, and to our
very senses: yet even monks and inquisitors are now constrained
to withdraw their opposition to it. And shall P/HILO\, a man of
so liberal a genius and extensive knowledge, entertain any
general undistinguished scruples with regard to the religious
hypothesis, which is founded on the simplest and most obvious
arguments, and, unless it meets with artificial obstacles, has
such easy access and admission into the mind of man?

     And here we may observe, continued he, turning himself
towards D/EMEA\, a pretty curious circumstance in the history of
the sciences. After the union of philosophy with the popular
religion, upon the first establishment of Christianity, nothing
was more usual, among all religious teachers, than declamations
against reason, against the senses, against every principle
derived merely from human research and inquiry. All the topics of
the ancient academics were adopted by the fathers; and thence
propagated for several ages in every school and pulpit throughout
Christendom. The Reformers embraced the same principles of
reasoning, or rather declamation; and all panegyrics on the
excellency of faith, were sure to be interlarded with some severe
strokes of satire against natural reason. A celebrated prelate
too,15 of the Romish communion, a man of the most extensive
learning, who wrote a demonstration of Christianity, has also
composed a treatise, which contains all the cavils of the boldest
and most determined P/YRRHONISM\. L/OCKE\ seems to have been the
first Christian who ventured openly to assert, that faith was
nothing but a species of reason; that religion was only a branch
of philosophy; and that a chain of arguments, similar to that
which established any truth in morals, politics, or physics, was
always employed in discovering all the principles of theology,
natural and revealed. The ill use which B/AYLE\ and other
libertines made of the philosophical scepticism of the fathers
and first reformers, still further propagated the judicious
sentiment of Mr. L/OCKE\: And it is now in a manner avowed, by
all pretenders to reasoning and philosophy, that Atheist and
Sceptic are almost synonymous. And as it is certain that no man
is in earnest when he professes the latter principle, I would
fain hope that there are as few who seriously maintain the
former.

     Don't you remember, said P/HILO\, the excellent saying of
L/ORD\ B/ACON\ on this head? That a little philosophy, replied
C/LEANTHES\, makes a man an Atheist: A great deal converts him to
religion. That is a very judicious remark too, said P/HILO\. But
what I have in my eye is another passage, where, having mentioned
D/AVID\'s fool, who said in his heart there is no God, this great
philosopher observes, that the Atheists nowadays have a double
share of folly; for they are not contented to say in their hearts
there is no God, but they also utter that impiety with their
lips, and are thereby guilty of multiplied indiscretion and
imprudence. Such people, though they were ever so much in
earnest, cannot, methinks, be very formidable.

     But though you should rank me in this class of fools, I
cannot forbear communicating a remark that occurs to me, from the
history of the religious and irreligious scepticism with which
you have entertained us. It appears to me, that there are strong
symptoms of priestcraft in the whole progress of this affair.
During ignorant ages, such as those which followed the
dissolution of the ancient schools, the priests perceived, that
Atheism, Deism, or heresy of any kind, could only proceed from
the presumptuous questioning of received opinions, and from a
belief that human reason was equal to every thing. Education had
then a mighty influence over the minds of men, and was almost
equal in force to those suggestions of the senses and common
understanding, by which the most determined sceptic must allow
himself to be governed. But at present, when the influence of
education is much diminished, and men, from a more open commerce
of the world, have learned to compare the popular principles of
different nations and ages, our sagacious divines have changed
their whole system of philosophy, and talk the language of
S/TOICS\, P/LATONISTS\, and P/ERIPATETICS\, not that of
P/YRRHONIANS\ and A/CADEMICS\. If we distrust human reason, we
have now no other principle to lead us into religion. Thus,
sceptics in one age, dogmatists in another; whichever system best
suits the purpose of these reverend gentlemen, in giving them an
ascendant over mankind, they are sure to make it their favourite
principle, and established tenet.

     It is very natural, said C/LEANTHES\, for men to embrace
those principles, by which they find they can best defend their
doctrines; nor need we have any recourse to priestcraft to
account for so reasonable an expedient. And, surely nothing can
afford a stronger presumption, that any set of principles are
true, and ought to be embraced, than to observe that they tend to
the confirmation of true religion, and serve to confound the
cavils of Atheists, Libertines, and Freethinkers of all
denominations.

                             * * * *

                             PART 2

     I must own, C/LEANTHES\, said D/EMEA\, that nothing can more
surprise me, than the light in which you have all along put this
argument. By the whole tenor of your discourse, one would imagine
that you were maintaining the Being of a God, against the cavils
of Atheists and Infidels; and were necessitated to become a
champion for that fundamental principle of all religion. But
this, I hope, is not by any means a question among us. No man, no
man at least of common sense, I am persuaded, ever entertained a
serious doubt with regard to a truth so certain and self-evident.
The question is not concerning the being, but the nature of God.
This, I affirm, from the infirmities of human understanding, to
be altogether incomprehensible and unknown to us. The essence of
that supreme Mind, his attributes, the manner of his existence,
the very nature of his duration; these, and every particular
which regards so divine a Being, are mysterious to men. Finite,
weak, and blind creatures, we ought to humble ourselves in his
august presence; and, conscious of our frailties, adore in
silence his infinite perfections, which eye hath not seen, ear
hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to
conceive. They are covered in a deep cloud from human curiosity.
It is profaneness to attempt penetrating through these sacred
obscurities. And, next to the impiety of denying his existence,
is the temerity of prying into his nature and essence, decrees
and attributes.

     But lest you should think that my piety has here got the
better of my philosophy, I shall support my opinion, if it needs
any support, by a very great authority. I might cite all the
divines, almost, from the foundation of Christianity, who have
ever treated of this or any other theological subject: But I
shall confine myself, at present, to one equally celebrated for
piety and philosophy. It is Father M/ALEBRANCHE\, who, I
remember, thus expresses himself.16 "One ought not so much," says
he, "to call God a spirit, in order to express positively what he
is, as in order to signify that he is not matter. He is a Being
infinitely perfect: Of this we cannot doubt. But in the same
manner as we ought not to imagine, even supposing him corporeal,
that he is clothed with a human body, as the /ANTHROPOMORPHITES\
asserted, under colour that that figure was the most perfect of
any; so, neither ought we to imagine that the spirit of God has
human ideas, or bears any resemblance to our spirit, under colour
that we know nothing more perfect than a human mind. We ought
rather to believe, that as he comprehends the perfections of
matter without being material.... he comprehends also the
perfections of created spirits without being spirit, in the
manner we conceive spirit: That his true name is, He that is; or,
in other words, Being without restriction, All Being, the Being
infinite and universal."

     After so great an authority, D/EMEA\, replied P/HILO\, as
that which you have produced, and a thousand more which you might
produce, it would appear ridiculous in me to add my sentiment, or
express my approbation of your doctrine. But surely, where
reasonable men treat these subjects, the question can never be
concerning the Being, but only the Nature, of the Deity. The
former truth, as you well observe, is unquestionable and self-
evident. Nothing exists without a cause; and the original cause
of this universe (whatever it be) we call God; and piously
ascribe to him every species of perfection. Whoever scruples this
fundamental truth, deserves every punishment which can be
inflicted among philosophers, to wit, the greatest ridicule,
contempt, and disapprobation. But as all perfection is entirely
relative, we ought never to imagine that we comprehend the
attributes of this divine Being, or to suppose that his
perfections have any analogy or likeness to the perfections of a
human creature. Wisdom, Thought, Design, Knowledge; these we
justly ascribe to him; because these words are honourable among
men, and we have no other language or other conceptions by which
we can express our adoration of him. But let us beware, lest we
think that our ideas anywise correspond to his perfections, or
that his attributes have any resemblance to these qualities among
men. He is infinitely superior to our limited view and
comprehension; and is more the object of worship in the temple,
than of disputation in the schools.

     In reality, C/LEANTHES\, continued he, there is no need of
having recourse to that affected scepticism so displeasing to
you, in order to come at this determination. Our ideas reach no
further than our experience. We have no experience of divine
attributes and operations. I need not conclude my syllogism. You
can draw the inference yourself. And it is a pleasure to me (and
I hope to you too) that just reasoning and sound piety here
concur in the same conclusion, and both of them establish the
adorably mysterious and incomprehensible nature of the Supreme
Being.

     Not to lose any time in circumlocutions, said C/LEANTHES\,
addressing himself to D/EMEA\, much less in replying to the pious
declamations of P/HILO\; I shall briefly explain how I conceive
this matter. Look round the world: contemplate the whole and
every part of it: You will find it to be nothing but one great
machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines,
which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human
senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various
machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each
other with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who
have ever contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to
ends, throughout all nature, resembles exactly, though it much
exceeds, the productions of human contrivance; of human designs,
thought, wisdom, and intelligence. Since, therefore, the effects
resemble each other, we are led to infer, by all the rules of
analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the Author of
Nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed
of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the
work which he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by
this argument alone, do we prove at once the existence of a
Deity, and his similarity to human mind and intelligence.

     I shall be so free, C/LEANTHES\, said D/EMEA\, as to tell
you, that from the beginning, I could not approve of your
conclusion concerning the similarity of the Deity to men; still
less can I approve of the mediums by which you endeavour to
establish it. What! No demonstration of the Being of God! No
abstract arguments! No proofs a priori! Are these, which have
hitherto been so much insisted on by philosophers, all fallacy,
all sophism? Can we reach no further in this subject than
experience and probability? I will not say that this is betraying
the cause of a Deity: But surely, by this affected candour, you
give advantages to Atheists, which they never could obtain by the
mere dint of argument and reasoning.

     What I chiefly scruple in this subject, said P/HILO\, is not
so much that all religious arguments are by C/LEANTHES\ reduced
to experience, as that they appear not to be even the most
certain and irrefragable of that inferior kind. That a stone will
fall, that fire will burn, that the earth has solidity, we have
observed a thousand and a thousand times; and when any new
instance of this nature is presented, we draw without hesitation
the accustomed inference. The exact similarity of the cases gives
us a perfect assurance of a similar event; and a stronger
evidence is never desired nor sought after. But wherever you
depart, in the least, from the similarity of the cases, you
diminish proportionably the evidence; and may at last bring it to
a very weak analogy, which is confessedly liable to error and
uncertainty. After having experienced the circulation of the
blood in human creatures, we make no doubt that it takes place in
T/ITIUS\ and M/AEVIUS\. But from its circulation in frogs and
fishes, it is only a presumption, though a strong one, from
analogy, that it takes place in men and other animals. The
analogical reasoning is much weaker, when we infer the
circulation of the sap in vegetables from our experience that the
blood circulates in animals; and those, who hastily followed that
imperfect analogy, are found, by more accurate experiments, to
have been mistaken.

     If we see a house, C/LEANTHES\, we conclude, with the
greatest certainty, that it had an architect or builder; because
this is precisely that species of effect which we have
experienced to proceed from that species of cause. But surely you
will not affirm, that the universe bears such a resemblance to a
house, that we can with the same certainty infer a similar cause,
or that the analogy is here entire and perfect. The dissimilitude
is so striking, that the utmost you can here pretend to is a
guess, a conjecture, a presumption concerning a similar cause;
and how that pretension will be received in the world, I leave
you to consider.

     It would surely be very ill received, replied C/LEANTHES\;
and I should be deservedly blamed and detested, did I allow, that
the proofs of a Deity amounted to no more than a guess or
conjecture. But is the whole adjustment of means to ends in a
house and in the universe so slight a resemblance? The economy of
final causes? The order, proportion, and arrangement of every
part? Steps of a stair are plainly contrived, that human legs may
use them in mounting; and this inference is certain and
infallible. Human legs are also contrived for walking and
mounting; and this inference, I allow, is not altogether so
certain, because of the dissimilarity which you remark; but does
it, therefore, deserve the name only of presumption or
conjecture?17

     Good God! cried D/EMEA\, interrupting him, where are we?
Zealous defenders of religion allow, that the proofs of a Deity
fall short of perfect evidence! And you, P/HILO\, on whose
assistance I depended in proving the adorable mysteriousness of
the Divine Nature, do you assent to all these extravagant
opinions of C/LEANTHES\? For what other name can I give them? or,
why spare my censure, when such principles are advanced,
supported by such an authority, before so young a man as
P/AMPHILUS\?

     You seem not to apprehend, replied P/HILO\, that I argue
with C/LEANTHES\ in his own way; and, by showing him the
dangerous consequences of his tenets, hope at last to reduce him
to our opinion. But what sticks most with you, I observe, is the
representation which C/LEANTHES\ has made of the argument a
posteriori; and finding that that argument is likely to escape
your hold and vanish into air, you think it so disguised, that
you can scarcely believe it to be set in its true light. Now,
however much I may dissent, in other respects, from the dangerous
principles of C/LEANTHES\, I must allow that he has fairly
represented that argument; and I shall endeavour so to state the
matter to you, that you will entertain no further scruples with
regard to it.

     Were a man to abstract from every thing which he knows or
has seen, he would be altogether incapable, merely from his own
ideas, to determine what kind of scene the universe must be, or
to give the preference to one state or situation of things above
another. For as nothing which he clearly conceives could be
esteemed impossible or implying a contradiction, every chimera of
his fancy would be upon an equal footing; nor could he assign any
just reason why he adheres to one idea or system, and rejects the
others which are equally possible.

     Again; after he opens his eyes, and contemplates the world
as it really is, it would be impossible for him at first to
assign the cause of any one event, much less of the whole of
things, or of the universe. He might set his fancy a rambling;
and she might bring him in an infinite variety of reports and
representations. These would all be possible; but being all
equally possible, he would never of himself give a satisfactory
account for his preferring one of them to the rest. Experience
alone can point out to him the true cause of any phenomenon.

     Now, according to this method of reasoning, D/EMEA\, it
follows, (and is, indeed, tacitly allowed by C/LEANTHES\
himself,) that order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final
causes, is not of itself any proof of design; but only so far as
it has been experienced to proceed from that principle. For aught
we can know a priori, matter may contain the source or spring of
order originally within itself, as well as mind does; and there
is no more difficulty in conceiving, that the several elements,
from an internal unknown cause, may fall into the most exquisite
arrangement, than to conceive that their ideas, in the great
universal mind, from a like internal unknown cause, fall into
that arrangement. The equal possibility of both these
suppositions is allowed. But, by experience, we find, (according
to C/LEANTHES\), that there is a difference between them. Throw
several pieces of steel together, without shape or form; they
will never arrange themselves so as to compose a watch. Stone,
and mortar, and wood, without an architect, never erect a house.
But the ideas in a human mind, we see, by an unknown,
inexplicable economy, arrange themselves so as to form the plan
of a watch or house. Experience, therefore, proves, that there is
an original principle of order in mind, not in matter. From
similar effects we infer similar causes. The adjustment of means
to ends is alike in the universe, as in a machine of human
contrivance. The causes, therefore, must be resembling.

     I was from the beginning scandalised, I must own, with this
resemblance, which is asserted, between the Deity and human
creatures; and must conceive it to imply such a degradation of
the Supreme Being as no sound Theist could endure. With your
assistance, therefore, D/EMEA\, I shall endeavour to defend what
you justly call the adorable mysteriousness of the Divine Nature,
and shall refute this reasoning of C/LEANTHES\, provided he
allows that I have made a fair representation of it.

     When C/LEANTHES\ had assented, P/HILO\, after a short pause,
proceeded in the following manner.

     That all inferences, C/LEANTHES\, concerning fact, are
founded on experience; and that all experimental reasonings are
founded on the supposition that similar causes prove similar
effects, and similar effects similar causes; I shall not at
present much dispute with you. But observe, I entreat you, with
what extreme caution all just reasoners proceed in the
transferring of experiments to similar cases. Unless the cases be
exactly similar, they repose no perfect confidence in applying
their past observation to any particular phenomenon. Every
alteration of circumstances occasions a doubt concerning the
event; and it requires new experiments to prove certainly, that
the new circumstances are of no moment or importance. A change in
bulk, situation, arrangement, age, disposition of the air, or
surrounding bodies; any of these particulars may be attended with
the most unexpected consequences: And unless the objects be quite
familiar to us, it is the highest temerity to expect with
assurance, after any of these changes, an event similar to that
which before fell under our observation. The slow and deliberate
steps of philosophers here, if any where, are distinguished from
the precipitate march of the vulgar, who, hurried on by the
smallest similitude, are incapable of all discernment or
consideration.

     But can you think, C/LEANTHES\, that your usual phlegm and
philosophy have been preserved in so wide a step as you have
taken, when you compared to the universe houses, ships,
furniture, machines, and, from their similarity in some
circumstances, inferred a similarity in their causes? Thought,
design, intelligence, such as we discover in men and other
animals, is no more than one of the springs and principles of the
universe, as well as heat or cold, attraction or repulsion, and a
hundred others, which fall under daily observation. It is an
active cause, by which some particular parts of nature, we find,
produce alterations on other parts. But can a conclusion, with
any propriety, be transferred from parts to the whole? Does not
the great disproportion bar all comparison and inference? From
observing the growth of a hair, can we learn any thing concerning
the generation of a man? Would the manner of a leaf's blowing,
even though perfectly known, afford us any instruction concerning
the vegetation of a tree?

     But, allowing that we were to take the operations of one
part of nature upon another, for the foundation of our judgement
concerning the origin of the whole, (which never can be
admitted,) yet why select so minute, so weak, so bounded a
principle, as the reason and design of animals is found to be
upon this planet? What peculiar privilege has this little
agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we must thus
make it the model of the whole universe? Our partiality in our
own favour does indeed present it on all occasions; but sound
philosophy ought carefully to guard against so natural an
illusion.

     So far from admitting, continued P/HILO\, that the
operations of a part can afford us any just conclusion concerning
the origin of the whole, I will not allow any one part to form a
rule for another part, if the latter be very remote from the
former. Is there any reasonable ground to conclude, that the
inhabitants of other planets possess thought, intelligence,
reason, or any thing similar to these faculties in men? When
nature has so extremely diversified her manner of operation in
this small globe, can we imagine that she incessantly copies
herself throughout so immense a universe? And if thought, as we
may well suppose, be confined merely to this narrow corner, and
has even there so limited a sphere of action, with what propriety
can we assign it for the original cause of all things? The narrow
views of a peasant, who makes his domestic economy the rule for
the government of kingdoms, is in comparison a pardonable
sophism.

     But were we ever so much assured, that a thought and reason,
resembling the human, were to be found throughout the whole
universe, and were its activity elsewhere vastly greater and more
commanding than it appears in this globe; yet I cannot see, why
the operations of a world constituted, arranged, adjusted, can
with any propriety be extended to a world which is in its embryo
state, and is advancing towards that constitution and
arrangement. By observation, we know somewhat of the economy,
action, and nourishment of a finished animal; but we must
transfer with great caution that observation to the growth of a
foetus in the womb, and still more to the formation of an
animalcule in the loins of its male parent. Nature, we find, even
from our limited experience, possesses an infinite number of
springs and principles, which incessantly discover themselves on
every change of her position and situation. And what new and
unknown principles would actuate her in so new and unknown a
situation as that of the formation of a universe, we cannot,
without the utmost temerity, pretend to determine.

     A very small part of this great system, during a very short
time, is very imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence
pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole?

     Admirable conclusion! Stone, wood, brick, iron, brass, have
not, at this time, in this minute globe of earth, an order or
arrangement without human art and contrivance; therefore the
universe could not originally attain its order and arrangement,
without something similar to human art. But is a part of nature a
rule for another part very wide of the former? Is it a rule for
the whole? Is a very small part a rule for the universe? Is
nature in one situation, a certain rule for nature in another
situation vastly different from the former?

     And can you blame me, C/LEANTHES\, if I here imitate the
prudent reserve of S/IMONIDES\, who, according to the noted
story,18 being asked by H/IERO\, What God was? desired a day to
think of it, and then two days more; and after that manner
continually prolonged the term, without ever bringing in his
definition or description? Could you even blame me, if I had
answered at first, that I did not know, and was sensible that
this subject lay vastly beyond the reach of my faculties? You
might cry out sceptic and railler, as much as you pleased: but
having found, in so many other subjects much more familiar, the
imperfections and even contradictions of human reason, I never
should expect any success from its feeble conjectures, in a
subject so sublime, and so remote from the sphere of our
observation. When two species of objects have always been
observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the
existence of one wherever I see the existence of the other; and
this I call an argument from experience. But how this argument
can have place, where the objects, as in the present case, are
single, individual, without parallel, or specific resemblance,
may be difficult to explain. And will any man tell me with a
serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise from
some thought and art like the human, because we have experience
of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite that we had
experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient,
surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art
and contrivance.

     P/HILO\ was proceeding in this vehement manner, somewhat
between jest and earnest, as it appeared to me, when he observed
some signs of impatience in C/LEANTHES\, and then immediately
stopped short. What I had to suggest, said C/LEANTHES\, is only
that you would not abuse terms, or make use of popular
expressions to subvert philosophical reasonings. You know, that
the vulgar often distinguish reason from experience, even where
the question relates only to matter of fact and existence; though
it is found, where that reason is properly analysed, that it is
nothing but a species of experience. To prove by experience the
origin of the universe from mind, is not more contrary to common
speech, than to prove the motion of the earth from the same
principle. And a caviller might raise all the same objections to
the Copernican system, which you have urged against my
reasonings. Have you other earths, might he say, which you have
seen to move? Have _

     Yes! cried P/HILO\, interrupting him, we have other earths.
Is not the moon another earth, which we see to turn round its
centre? Is not Venus another earth, where we observe the same
phenomenon? Are not the revolutions of the sun also a
confirmation, from analogy, of the same theory? All the planets,
are they not earths, which revolve about the sun? Are not the
satellites moons, which move round Jupiter and Saturn, and along
with these primary planets round the sun? These analogies and
resemblances, with others which I have not mentioned, are the
sole proofs of the C/OPERNICAN\ system; and to you it belongs to
consider, whether you have any analogies of the same kind to
support your theory.

     In reality, C/LEANTHES\, continued he, the modern system of
astronomy is now so much received by all inquirers, and has
become so essential a part even of our earliest education, that
we are not commonly very scrupulous in examining the reasons upon
which it is founded. It is now become a matter of mere curiosity
to study the first writers on that subject, who had the full
force of prejudice to encounter, and were obliged to turn their
arguments on every side in order to render them popular and
convincing. But if we peruse G/ALILEO\'s famous Dialogues
concerning the system of the world, we shall find, that that
great genius, one of the sublimest that ever existed, first bent
all his endeavours to prove, that there was no foundation for the
distinction commonly made between elementary and celestial
substances. The schools, proceeding from the illusions of sense,
had carried this distinction very far; and had established the
latter substances to be ingenerable, incorruptible, unalterable,
impassable; and had assigned all the opposite qualities to the
former. But G/ALILEO\, beginning with the moon, proved its
similarity in every particular to the earth; its convex figure,
its natural darkness when not illuminated, its density, its
distinction into solid and liquid, the variations of its phases,
the mutual illuminations of the earth and moon, their mutual
eclipses, the inequalities of the lunar surface, &c. After many
instances of this kind, with regard to all the planets, men
plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of
experience; and that the similarity of their nature enabled us to
extend the same arguments and phenomena from one to the other.

     In this cautious proceeding of the astronomers, you may read
your own condemnation, C/LEANTHES\; or rather may see, that the
subject in which you are engaged exceeds all human reason and
inquiry. Can you pretend to show any such similarity between the
fabric of a house, and the generation of a universe? Have you
ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles the first
arrangement of the elements? Have worlds ever been formed under
your eye; and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress
of the phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its
final consummation? If you have, then cite your experience, and
deliver your theory.

                             * * * *

                             PART 3

     How the most absurd argument, replied C/LEANTHES\, in the
hands of a man of ingenuity and invention, may acquire an air of
probability! Are you not aware, P/HILO\, that it became necessary
for Copernicus and his first disciples to prove the similarity of
the terrestrial and celestial matter; because several
philosophers, blinded by old systems, and supported by some
sensible appearances, had denied this similarity? but that it is
by no means necessary, that Theists should prove the similarity
of the works of Nature to those of Art; because this similarity
is self-evident and undeniable? The same matter, a like form;
what more is requisite to show an analogy between their causes,
and to ascertain the origin of all things from a divine purpose
and intention? Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no
better than the abstruse cavils of those philosophers who denied
motion; and ought to be refuted in the same manner, by
illustrations, examples, and instances, rather than by serious
argument and philosophy.

     Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were heard in
the clouds, much louder and more melodious than any which human
art could ever reach: Suppose, that this voice were extended in
the same instant over all nations, and spoke to each nation in
its own language and dialect: Suppose, that the words delivered
not only contain a just sense and meaning, but convey some
instruction altogether worthy of a benevolent Being, superior to
mankind: Could you possibly hesitate a moment concerning the
cause of this voice? and must you not instantly ascribe it to
some design or purpose? Yet I cannot see but all the same
objections (if they merit that appellation) which lie against the
system of Theism, may also be produced against this inference.

     Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were
founded on experience: that when we hear an articulate voice in
the dark, and thence infer a man, it is only the resemblance of
the effects which leads us to conclude that there is a like
resemblance in the cause: but that this extraordinary voice, by
its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all languages, bears so
little analogy to any human voice, that we have no reason to
suppose any analogy in their causes: and consequently, that a
rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, you know not whence,
from some accidental whistling of the winds, not from any divine
reason or intelligence? You see clearly your own objections in
these cavils, and I hope too you see clearly, that they cannot
possibly have more force in the one case than in the other.

     But to bring the case still nearer the present one of the
universe, I shall make two suppositions, which imply not any
absurdity or impossibility. Suppose that there is a natural,
universal, invariable language, common to every individual of
human race; and that books are natural productions, which
perpetuate themselves in the same manner with animals and
vegetables, by descent and propagation. Several expressions of
our passions contain a universal language: all brute animals have
a natural speech, which, however limited, is very intelligible to
their own species. And as there are infinitely fewer parts and
less contrivance in the finest composition of eloquence, than in
the coarsest organised body, the propagation of an Iliad or
Aeneid is an easier supposition than that of any plant or animal.

     Suppose, therefore, that you enter into your library, thus
peopled by natural volumes, containing the most refined reason
and most exquisite beauty; could you possibly open one of them,
and doubt, that its original cause bore the strongest analogy to
mind and intelligence? When it reasons and discourses; when it
expostulates, argues, and enforces its views and topics; when it
applies sometimes to the pure intellect, sometimes to the
affections; when it collects, disposes, and adorns every
consideration suited to the subject; could you persist in
asserting, that all this, at the bottom, had really no meaning;
and that the first formation of this volume in the loins of its
original parent proceeded not from thought and design? Your
obstinacy, I know, reaches not that degree of firmness: even your
sceptical play and wantonness would be abashed at so glaring an
absurdity.

     But if there be any difference, P/HILO\, between this
supposed case and the real one of the universe, it is all to the
advantage of the latter. The anatomy of an animal affords many
stronger instances of design than the perusal of L/IVY\ or
T/ACITUS\; and any objection which you start in the former case,
by carrying me back to so unusual and extraordinary a scene as
the first formation of worlds, the same objection has place on
the supposition of our vegetating library. Choose, then, your
party, P/HILO\, without ambiguity or evasion; assert either that
a rational volume is no proof of a rational cause, or admit of a
similar cause to all the works of nature.

     Let me here observe too, continued C/LEANTHES\, that this
religious argument, instead of being weakened by that scepticism
so much affected by you, rather acquires force from it, and
becomes more firm and undisputed. To exclude all argument or
reasoning of every kind, is either affectation or madness. The
declared profession of every reasonable sceptic is only to reject
abstruse, remote, and refined arguments; to adhere to common
sense and the plain instincts of nature; and to assent, wherever
any reasons strike him with so full a force that he cannot,
without the greatest violence, prevent it. Now the arguments for
Natural Religion are plainly of this kind; and nothing but the
most perverse, obstinate metaphysics can reject them. Consider,
anatomise the eye; survey its structure and contrivance; and tell
me, from your own feeling, if the idea of a contriver does not
immediately flow in upon you with a force like that of sensation.
The most obvious conclusion, surely, is in favour of design; and
it requires time, reflection, and study, to summon up those
frivolous, though abstruse objections, which can support
Infidelity. Who can behold the male and female of each species,
the correspondence of their parts and instincts, their passions,
and whole course of life before and after generation, but must be
sensible, that the propagation of the species is intended by
Nature? Millions and millions of such instances present
themselves through every part of the universe; and no language
can convey a more intelligible irresistible meaning, than the
curious adjustment of final causes. To what degree, therefore, of
blind dogmatism must one have attained, to reject such natural
and such convincing arguments?

     Some beauties in writing we may meet with, which seem
contrary to rules, and which gain the affections, and animate the
imagination, in opposition to all the precepts of criticism, and
to the authority of the established masters of art. And if the
argument for Theism be, as you pretend, contradictory to the
principles of logic; its universal, its irresistible influence
proves clearly, that there may be arguments of a like irregular
nature. Whatever cavils may be urged, an orderly world, as well
as a coherent, articulate speech, will still be received as an
incontestable proof of design and intention.

     It sometimes happens, I own, that the religious arguments
have not their due influence on an ignorant savage and barbarian;
not because they are obscure and difficult, but because he never
asks himself any question with regard to them. Whence arises the
curious structure of an animal? From the copulation of its
parents. And these whence? From their parents? A few removes set
the objects at such a distance, that to him they are lost in
darkness and confusion; nor is he actuated by any curiosity to
trace them further. But this is neither dogmatism nor scepticism,
but stupidity: a state of mind very different from your sifting,
inquisitive disposition, my ingenious friend. You can trace
causes from effects: You can compare the most distant and remote
objects: and your greatest errors proceed not from barrenness of
thought and invention, but from too luxuriant a fertility, which
suppresses your natural good sense, by a profusion of unnecessary
scruples and objections.

     Here I could observe, H/ERMIPPUS\, that P/HILO\ was a little
embarrassed and confounded: But while he hesitated in delivering
an answer, luckily for him, D/EMEA\ broke in upon the discourse,
and saved his countenance.

     Your instance, C/LEANTHES\, said he, drawn from books and
language, being familiar, has, I confess, so much more force on
that account: but is there not some danger too in this very
circumstance; and may it not render us presumptuous, by making us
imagine we comprehend the Deity, and have some adequate idea of
his nature and attributes? When I read a volume, I enter into the
mind and intention of the author: I become him, in a manner, for
the instant; and have an immediate feeling and conception of
those ideas which revolved in his imagination while employed in
that composition. But so near an approach we never surely can
make to the Deity. His ways are not our ways. His attributes are
perfect, but incomprehensible. And this volume of nature contains
a great and inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible
discourse or reasoning.

     The ancient P/LATONISTS\, you know, were the most religious
and devout of all the Pagan philosophers; yet many of them,
particularly P/LOTINUS\, expressly declare, that intellect or
understanding is not to be ascribed to the Deity; and that our
most perfect worship of him consists, not in acts of veneration,
reverence, gratitude, or love; but in a certain mysterious self-
annihilation, or total extinction of all our faculties. These
ideas are, perhaps, too far stretched; but still it must be
acknowledged, that, by representing the Deity as so intelligible
and comprehensible, and so similar to a human mind, we are guilty
of the grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves
the model of the whole universe.

     All the sentiments of the human mind, gratitude, resentment,
love, friendship, approbation, blame, pity, emulation, envy, have
a plain reference to the state and situation of man, and are
calculated for preserving the existence and promoting the
activity of such a being in such circumstances. It seems,
therefore, unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme
existence, or to suppose him actuated by them; and the phenomena
besides of the universe will not support us in such a theory. All
our ideas, derived from the senses, are confessedly false and
illusive; and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a
supreme intelligence: And as the ideas of internal sentiment,
added to those of the external senses, compose the whole
furniture of human understanding, we may conclude, that none of
the materials of thought are in any respect similar in the human
and in the divine intelligence. Now, as to the manner of
thinking; how can we make any comparison between them, or suppose
them any wise resembling? Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain,
fleeting, successive, and compounded; and were we to remove these
circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it would
in such a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of
thought or reason. At least if it appear more pious and
respectful (as it really is) still to retain these terms, when we
mention the Supreme Being, we ought to acknowledge, that their
meaning, in that case, is totally incomprehensible; and that the
infirmities of our nature do not permit us to reach any ideas
which in the least correspond to the ineffable sublimity of the
Divine attributes.

                             * * * *

                             PART 4

     It seems strange to me, said C/LEANTHES\, that you, D/EMEA\,
who are so sincere in the cause of religion, should still
maintain the mysterious, incomprehensible nature of the Deity,
and should insist so strenuously that he has no manner of
likeness or resemblance to human creatures. The Deity, I can
readily allow, possesses many powers and attributes of which we
can have no comprehension: But if our ideas, so far as they go,
be not just, and adequate, and correspondent to his real nature,
I know not what there is in this subject worth insisting on. Is
the name, without any meaning, of such mighty importance? Or how
do you mystics, who maintain the absolute incomprehensibility of
the Deity, differ from Sceptics or Atheists, who assert, that the
first cause of all is unknown and unintelligible? Their temerity
must be very great, if, after rejecting the production by a mind,
I mean a mind resembling the human, (for I know of no other,)
they pretend to assign, with certainty, any other specific
intelligible cause: And their conscience must be very scrupulous
indeed, if they refuse to call the universal unknown cause a God
or Deity; and to bestow on him as many sublime eulogies and
unmeaning epithets as you shall please to require of them.

     Who could imagine, replied D/EMEA\, that C/LEANTHES\, the
calm philosophical C/LEANTHES\, would attempt to refute his
antagonists by affixing a nickname to them; and, like the common
bigots and inquisitors of the age, have recourse to invective and
declamation, instead of reasoning? Or does he not perceive, that
these topics are easily retorted, and that Anthropomorphite is an
appellation as invidious, and implies as dangerous consequences,
as the epithet of Mystic, with which he has honoured us? In
reality, C/LEANTHES\, consider what it is you assert when you
represent the Deity as similar to a human mind and understanding.
What is the soul of man? A composition of various faculties,
passions, sentiments, ideas; united, indeed, into one self or
person, but still distinct from each other. When it reasons, the
ideas, which are the parts of its discourse, arrange themselves
in a certain form or order; which is not preserved entire for a
moment, but immediately gives place to another arrangement. New
opinions, new passions, new affections, new feelings arise, which
continually diversify the mental scene, and produce in it the
greatest variety and most rapid succession imaginable. How is
this compatible with that perfect immutability and simplicity
which all true Theists ascribe to the Deity? By the same act, say
they, he sees past, present, and future: His love and hatred, his
mercy and justice, are one individual operation: He is entire in
every point of space; and complete in every instant of duration.
No succession, no change, no acquisition, no diminution. What he
is implies not in it any shadow of distinction or diversity. And
what he is this moment he ever has been, and ever will be,
without any new judgement, sentiment, or operation. He stands
fixed in one simple, perfect state: nor can you ever say, with
any propriety, that this act of his is different from that other;
or that this judgement or idea has been lately formed, and will
give place, by succession, to any different judgement or idea.

     I can readily allow, said C/LEANTHES\, that those who
maintain the perfect simplicity of the Supreme Being, to the
extent in which you have explained it, are complete Mystics, and
chargeable with all the consequences which I have drawn from
their opinion. They are, in a word, Atheists, without knowing it.
For though it be allowed, that the Deity possesses attributes of
which we have no comprehension, yet ought we never to ascribe to
him any attributes which are absolutely incompatible with that
intelligent nature essential to him. A mind, whose acts and
sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive; one, that
is wholly simple, and totally immutable, is a mind which has no
thought, no reason, no will, no sentiment, no love, no hatred;
or, in a word, is no mind at all. It is an abuse of terms to give
it that appellation; and we may as well speak of limited
extension without figure, or of number without composition.

     Pray consider, said P/HILO\, whom you are at present
inveighing against. You are honouring with the appellation of
Atheist all the sound, orthodox divines, almost, who have treated
of this subject; and you will at last be, yourself, found,
according to your reckoning, the only sound Theist in the world.
But if idolaters be Atheists, as, I think, may justly be
asserted, and Christian Theologians the same, what becomes of the
argument, so much celebrated, derived from the universal consent
of mankind?

     But because I know you are not much swayed by names and
authorities, I shall endeavour to show you, a little more
distinctly, the inconveniences of that Anthropomorphism, which
you have embraced; and shall prove, that there is no ground to
suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the Divine mind,
consisting of distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the same
manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house
which he intends to execute.

     It is not easy, I own, to see what is gained by this
supposition, whether we judge of the matter by Reason or by
Experience. We are still obliged to mount higher, in order to
find the cause of this cause, which you had assigned as
satisfactory and conclusive.

     If Reason (I mean abstract reason, derived from inquiries a
priori) be not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning
cause and effect, this sentence at least it will venture to
pronounce, That a mental world, or universe of ideas, requires a
cause as much, as does a material world, or universe of objects;
and, if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar cause.
For what is there in this subject, which should occasion a
different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are
entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition,
which is not common to both of them.

     Again, when we will needs force Experience to pronounce some
sentence, even on these subjects which lie beyond her sphere,
neither can she perceive any material difference in this
particular, between these two kinds of worlds; but finds them to
be governed by similar principles, and to depend upon an equal
variety of causes in their operations. We have specimens in
miniature of both of them. Our own mind resembles the one; a
vegetable or animal body the other. Let experience, therefore,
judge from these samples. Nothing seems more delicate, with
regard to its causes, than thought; and as these causes never
operate in two persons after the same manner, so we never find
two persons who think exactly alike. Nor indeed does the same
person think exactly alike at any two different periods of time.
A difference of age, of the disposition of his body, of weather,
of food, of company, of books, of passions; any of these
particulars, or others more minute, are sufficient to alter the
curious machinery of thought, and communicate to it very
different movements and operations. As far as we can judge,
vegetables and animal bodies are not more delicate in their
motions, nor depend upon a greater variety or more curious
adjustment of springs and principles.

     How, therefore, shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the
cause of that Being whom you suppose the Author of Nature, or,
according to your system of Anthropomorphism, the ideal world,
into which you trace the material? Have we not the same reason to
trace that ideal world into another ideal world, or new
intelligent principle? But if we stop, and go no further; why go
so far? why not stop at the material world? How can we satisfy
ourselves without going on in infinitum? And, after all, what
satisfaction is there in that infinite progression? Let us
remember the story of the Indian philosopher and his elephant. It
was never more applicable than to the present subject. If the
material world rests upon a similar ideal world, this ideal world
must rest upon some other; and so on, without end. It were
better, therefore, never to look beyond the present material
world. By supposing it to contain the principle of its order
within itself, we really assert it to be God; and the sooner we
arrive at that Divine Being, so much the better. When you go one
step beyond the mundane system, you only excite an inquisitive
humour which it is impossible ever to satisfy.

     To say, that the different ideas which compose the reason of
the Supreme Being, fall into order of themselves, and by their
own nature, is really to talk without any precise meaning. If it
has a meaning, I would fain know, why it is not as good sense to
say, that the parts of the material world fall into order of
themselves and by their own nature. Can the one opinion be
intelligible, while the other is not so?

     We have, indeed, experience of ideas which fall into order
of themselves, and without any known cause. But, I am sure, we
have a much larger experience of matter which does the same; as,
in all instances of generation and vegetation, where the accurate
analysis of the cause exceeds all human comprehension. We have
also experience of particular systems of thought and of matter
which have no order; of the first in madness, of the second in
corruption. Why, then, should we think, that order is more
essential to one than the other? And if it requires a cause in
both, what do we gain by your system, in tracing the universe of
objects into a similar universe of ideas? The first step which we
make leads us on for ever. It were, therefore, wise in us to
limit all our inquiries to the present world, without looking
further. No satisfaction can ever be attained by these
speculations, which so far exceed the narrow bounds of human
understanding.

     It was usual with the P/ERIPATETICS\, you know, C/LEANTHES\,
when the cause of any phenomenon was demanded, to have recourse
to their faculties or occult qualities; and to say, for instance,
that bread nourished by its nutritive faculty, and senna19 purged
by its purgative. But it has been discovered, that this
subterfuge was nothing but the disguise of ignorance; and that
these philosophers, though less ingenuous, really said the same
thing with the sceptics or the vulgar, who fairly confessed that
they knew not the cause of these phenomena. In like manner, when
it is asked, what cause produces order in the ideas of the
Supreme Being; can any other reason be assigned by you,
Anthropomorphites, than that it is a rational faculty, and that
such is the nature of the Deity? But why a similar answer will
not be equally satisfactory in accounting for the order of the
world, without having recourse to any such intelligent creator as
you insist on, may be difficult to determine. It is only to say,
that such is the nature of material objects, and that they are
all originally possessed of a faculty of order and proportion.
These are only more learned and elaborate ways of confessing our
ignorance; nor has the one hypothesis any real advantage above
the other, except in its greater conformity to vulgar prejudices.

     You have displayed this argument with great emphasis,
replied C/LEANTHES\: You seem not sensible how easy it is to
answer it. Even in common life, if I assign a cause for any
event, is it any objection, P/HILO\, that I cannot assign the
cause of that cause, and answer every new question which may
incessantly be started? And what philosophers could possibly
submit to so rigid a rule? philosophers, who confess ultimate
causes to be totally unknown; and are sensible, that the most
refined principles into which they trace the phenomena, are still
to them as inexplicable as these phenomena themselves are to the
vulgar. The order and arrangement of nature, the curious
adjustment of final causes, the plain use and intention of every
part and organ; all these bespeak in the clearest language an
intelligent cause or author. The heavens and the earth join in
the same testimony: The whole chorus of Nature raises one hymn to
the praises of its Creator. You alone, or almost alone, disturb
this general harmony. You start abstruse doubts, cavils, and
objections: You ask me, what is the cause of this cause? I know
not; I care not; that concerns not me. I have found a Deity; and
here I stop my inquiry. Let those go further, who are wiser or
more enterprising.

     I pretend to be neither, replied P/HILO\: And for that very
reason, I should never perhaps have attempted to go so far;
especially when I am sensible, that I must at last be contented
to sit down with the same answer, which, without further trouble,
might have satisfied me from the beginning. If I am still to
remain in utter ignorance of causes, and can absolutely give an
explication of nothing, I shall never esteem it any advantage to
shove off for a moment a difficulty, which, you acknowledge, must
immediately, in its full force, recur upon me. Naturalists indeed
very justly explain particular effects by more general causes,
though these general causes themselves should remain in the end
totally inexplicable; but they never surely thought it
satisfactory to explain a particular effect by a particular
cause, which was no more to be accounted for than the effect
itself. An ideal system, arranged of itself, without a precedent
design, is not a whit more explicable than a material one, which
attains its order in a like manner; nor is there any more
difficulty in the latter supposition than in the former.

                             * * * *

                             PART 5

     But to show you still more inconveniences, continued
P/HILO\, in your Anthropomorphism, please to take a new survey of
your principles. Like effects prove like causes. This is the
experimental argument; and this, you say too, is the sole
theological argument. Now, it is certain, that the liker the
effects are which are seen, and the liker the causes which are
inferred, the stronger is the argument. Every departure on either
side diminishes the probability, and renders the experiment less
conclusive. You cannot doubt of the principle; neither ought you
to reject its consequences.

     All the new discoveries in astronomy, which prove the
immense grandeur and magnificence of the works of Nature, are so
many additional arguments for a Deity, according to the true
system of Theism; but, according to your hypothesis of
experimental Theism, they become so many objections, by removing
the effect still further from all resemblance to the effects of
human art and contrivance. For, if L/UCRETIUS\, even following
the old system of the world, could exclaim,

     Quis regere immensi summam, quis habere profundi

     Indu manu validas potis est moderanter habenas?

     Quis pariter coelos omnes convertere? et omnes

     Ignibus aetheriis terras suffire feraces?

     Omnibus inque locis esse omni tempore praesto?20

     

     If T/ULLY\ esteemed this reasoning so natural, as to put it
into the mouth of his E/PICUREAN\:

     "Quibus enim oculis animi intueri potuit vester Plato

     fabricam illam tanti operis, qua construi a Deo atque

     aedificari mundum facit? quae molitio? quae ferramenta? qui

     vectes? quae machinae? qui ministri tanti muneris fuerunt?

     quemadmodum autem obedire et parere voluntati architecti

     aer, ignis, aqua, terra potuerunt?" 21

If this argument, I say, had any force in former ages, how much
greater must it have at present, when the bounds of Nature are so
infinitely enlarged, and such a magnificent scene is opened to
us? It is still more unreasonable to form our idea of so
unlimited a cause from our experience of the narrow productions
of human design and invention.

     The discoveries by microscopes, as they open a new universe
in miniature, are still objections, according to you, arguments,
according to me. The further we push our researches of this kind,
we are still led to infer the universal cause of all to be vastly
different from mankind, or from any object of human experience
and observation.

     And what say you to the discoveries in anatomy, chemistry,
botany? _ These surely are no objections, replied C/LEANTHES\;
they only discover new instances of art and contrivance. It is
still the image of mind reflected on us from innumerable objects.
Add, a mind like the human, said P/HILO\. I know of no other,
replied C/LEANTHES\. And the liker the better, insisted P/HILO\.
To be sure, said C/LEANTHES\ .

     Now, C/LEANTHES\, said P/HILO\, with an air of alacrity and
triumph, mark the consequences. First, By this method of
reasoning, you renounce all claim to infinity in any of the
attributes of the Deity. For, as the cause ought only to be
proportioned to the effect, and the effect, so far as it falls
under our cognisance, is not infinite; what pretensions have we,
upon your suppositions, to ascribe that attribute to the Divine
Being? You will still insist, that, by removing him so much from
all similarity to human creatures, we give in to the most
arbitrary hypothesis, and at the same time weaken all proofs of
his existence.

     Secondly, You have no reason, on your theory, for ascribing
perfection to the Deity, even in his finite capacity, or for
supposing him free from every error, mistake, or incoherence, in
his undertakings. There are many inexplicable difficulties in the
works of Nature, which, if we allow a perfect author to be proved
a priori, are easily solved, and become only seeming
difficulties, from the narrow capacity of man, who cannot trace
infinite relations. But according to your method of reasoning,
these difficulties become all real; and perhaps will be insisted
on, as new instances of likeness to human art and contrivance. At
least, you must acknowledge, that it is impossible for us to
tell, from our limited views, whether this system contains any
great faults, or deserves any considerable praise, if compared to
other possible, and even real systems. Could a peasant, if the
Aeneid were read to him, pronounce that poem to be absolutely
faultless, or even assign to it its proper rank among the
productions of human wit, he, who had never seen any other
production?

     But were this world ever so perfect a production, it must
still remain uncertain, whether all the excellences of the work
can justly be ascribed to the workman. If we survey a ship, what
an exalted idea must we form of the ingenuity of the carpenter
who framed so complicated, useful, and beautiful a machine? And
what surprise must we feel, when we find him a stupid mechanic,
who imitated others, and copied an art, which, through a long
succession of ages, after multiplied trials, mistakes,
corrections, deliberations, and controversies, had been gradually
improving? Many worlds might have been botched and bungled,
throughout an eternity, ere this system was struck out; much
labour lost, many fruitless trials made; and a slow, but
continued improvement carried on during infinite ages in the art
of world-making. In such subjects, who can determine, where the
truth; nay, who can conjecture where the probability lies, amidst
a great number of hypotheses which may be proposed, and a still
greater which may be imagined?

     And what shadow of an argument, continued P/HILO\, can you
produce, from your hypothesis, to prove the unity of the Deity? A
great number of men join in building a house or ship, in rearing
a city, in framing a commonwealth; why may not several deities
combine in contriving and framing a world? This is only so much
greater similarity to human affairs. By sharing the work among
several, we may so much further limit the attributes of each, and
get rid of that extensive power and knowledge, which must be
supposed in one deity, and which, according to you, can only
serve to weaken the proof of his existence. And if such foolish,
such vicious creatures as man, can yet often unite in framing and
executing one plan, how much more those deities or demons, whom
we may suppose several degrees more perfect!

     To multiply causes without necessity, is indeed contrary to
true philosophy: but this principle applies not to the present
case. Were one deity antecedently proved by your theory, who were
possessed of every attribute requisite to the production of the
universe; it would be needless, I own, (though not absurd,) to
suppose any other deity existent. But while it is still a
question, Whether all these attributes are united in one subject,
or dispersed among several independent beings, by what phenomena
in nature can we pretend to decide the controversy? Where we see
a body raised in a scale, we are sure that there is in the
opposite scale, however concealed from sight, some counterpoising
weight equal to it; but it is still allowed to doubt, whether
that weight be an aggregate of several distinct bodies, or one
uniform united mass. And if the weight requisite very much
exceeds any thing which we have ever seen conjoined in any single
body, the former supposition becomes still more probable and
natural. An intelligent being of such vast power and capacity as
is necessary to produce the universe, or, to speak in the
language of ancient philosophy, so prodigious an animal exceeds
all analogy, and even comprehension.

     But further, C/LEANTHES\: men are mortal, and renew their
species by generation; and this is common to all living
creatures. The two great sexes of male and female, says M/ILTON\,
animate the world. Why must this circumstance, so universal, so
essential, be excluded from those numerous and limited deities?
Behold, then, the theogony of ancient times brought back upon us.

     And why not become a perfect Anthropomorphite? Why not
assert the deity or deities to be corporeal, and to have eyes, a
nose, mouth, ears, &c.? E/PICURUS\ maintained, that no man had
ever seen reason but in a human figure; therefore the gods must
have a human figure. And this argument, which is deservedly so
much ridiculed by C/ICERO\, becomes, according to you, solid and
philosophical.

     In a word, C/LEANTHES\, a man who follows your hypothesis is
able perhaps to assert, or conjecture, that the universe,
sometime, arose from something like design: but beyond that
position he cannot ascertain one single circumstance; and is left
afterwards to fix every point of his theology by the utmost
license of fancy and hypothesis. This world, for aught he knows,
is very faulty and imperfect, compared to a superior standard;
and was only the first rude essay of some infant deity, who
afterwards abandoned it, ashamed of his lame performance: it is
the work only of some dependent, inferior deity; and is the
object of derision to his superiors: it is the production of old
age and dotage in some superannuated deity; and ever since his
death, has run on at adventures, from the first impulse and
active force which it received from him. You justly give signs of
horror, D/EMEA\, at these strange suppositions; but these, and a
thousand more of the same kind, are C/LEANTHES\'s suppositions,
not mine. From the moment the attributes of the Deity are
supposed finite, all these have place. And I cannot, for my part,
think that so wild and unsettled a system of theology is, in any
respect, preferable to none at all.

     These suppositions I absolutely disown, cried C/LEANTHES\:
they strike me, however, with no horror, especially when proposed
in that rambling way in which they drop from you. On the
contrary, they give me pleasure, when I see, that, by the utmost
indulgence of your imagination, you never get rid of the
hypothesis of design in the universe, but are obliged at every
turn to have recourse to it. To this concession I adhere
steadily; and this I regard as a sufficient foundation for
religion.

                             * * * *

                             PART 6

     It must be a slight fabric, indeed, said D/EMEA\, which can
be erected on so tottering a foundation. While we are uncertain
whether there is one deity or many; whether the deity or deities,
to whom we owe our existence, be perfect or imperfect,
subordinate or supreme, dead or alive, what trust or confidence
can we repose in them? What devotion or worship address to them?
What veneration or obedience pay them? To all the purposes of
life the theory of religion becomes altogether useless: and even
with regard to speculative consequences, its uncertainty,
according to you, must render it totally precarious and
unsatisfactory.

     To render it still more unsatisfactory, said P/HILO\, there
occurs to me another hypothesis, which must acquire an air of
probability from the method of reasoning so much insisted on by
C/LEANTHES\. That like effects arise from like causes: this
principle he supposes the foundation of all religion. But there
is another principle of the same kind, no less certain, and
derived from the same source of experience; that where several
known circumstances are observed to be similar, the unknown will
also be found similar. Thus, if we see the limbs of a human body,
we conclude that it is also attended with a human head, though
hid from us. Thus, if we see, through a chink in a wall, a small
part of the sun, we conclude, that, were the wall removed, we
should see the whole body. In short, this method of reasoning is
so obvious and familiar, that no scruple can ever be made with
regard to its solidity.

     Now, if we survey the universe, so far as it falls under our
knowledge, it bears a great resemblance to an animal or organised
body, and seems actuated with a like principle of life and
motion. A continual circulation of matter in it produces no
disorder: a continual waste in every part is incessantly
repaired: the closest sympathy is perceived throughout the entire
system: and each part or member, in performing its proper
offices, operates both to its own preservation and to that of the
whole. The world, therefore, I infer, is an animal; and the Deity
is the SOUL of the world, actuating it, and actuated by it.

     You have too much learning, C/LEANTHES\, to be at all
surprised at this opinion, which, you know, was maintained by
almost all the Theists of antiquity, and chiefly prevails in
their discourses and reasonings. For though, sometimes, the
ancient philosophers reason from final causes, as if they thought
the world the workmanship of God; yet it appears rather their
favourite notion to consider it as his body, whose organisation
renders it subservient to him. And it must be confessed, that, as
the universe resembles more a human body than it does the works
of human art and contrivance, if our limited analogy could ever,
with any propriety, be extended to the whole of nature, the
inference seems juster in favour of the ancient than the modern
theory.

     There are many other advantages, too, in the former theory,
which recommended it to the ancient theologians. Nothing more
repugnant to all their notions, because nothing more repugnant to
common experience, than mind without body; a mere spiritual
substance, which fell not under their senses nor comprehension,
and of which they had not observed one single instance throughout
all nature. Mind and body they knew, because they felt both: an
order, arrangement, organisation, or internal machinery, in both,
they likewise knew, after the same manner: and it could not but
seem reasonable to transfer this experience to the universe; and
to suppose the divine mind and body to be also coeval, and to
have, both of them, order and arrangement naturally inherent in
them, and inseparable from them.

     Here, therefore, is a new species of Anthropomorphism,
C/LEANTHES\, on which you may deliberate; and a theory which
seems not liable to any considerable difficulties. You are too
much superior, surely, to systematical prejudices, to find any
more difficulty in supposing an animal body to be, originally, of
itself, or from unknown causes, possessed of order and
organisation, than in supposing a similar order to belong to
mind. But the vulgar prejudice, that body and mind ought always
to accompany each other, ought not, one should think, to be
entirely neglected; since it is founded on vulgar experience, the
only guide which you profess to follow in all these theological
inquiries. And if you assert, that our limited experience is an
unequal standard, by which to judge of the unlimited extent of
nature; you entirely abandon your own hypothesis, and must
thenceforward adopt our Mysticism, as you call it, and admit of
the absolute incomprehensibility of the Divine Nature.

     This theory, I own, replied C/LEANTHES\, has never before
occurred to me, though a pretty natural one; and I cannot
readily, upon so short an examination and reflection, deliver any
opinion with regard to it. You are very scrupulous, indeed, said
P/HILO\: were I to examine any system of yours, I should not have
acted with half that caution and reserve, in starting objections
and difficulties to it. However, if any thing occur to you, you
will oblige us by proposing it.

     Why then, replied C/LEANTHES\, it seems to me, that, though
the world does, in many circumstances, resemble an animal body;
yet is the analogy also defective in many circumstances the most
material: no organs of sense; no seat of thought or reason; no
one precise origin of motion and action. In short, it seems to
bear a stronger resemblance to a vegetable than to an animal, and
your inference would be so far inconclusive in favour of the soul
of the world.

     But, in the next place, your theory seems to imply the
eternity of the world; and that is a principle, which, I think,
can be refuted by the strongest reasons and probabilities. I
shall suggest an argument to this purpose, which, I believe, has
not been insisted on by any writer. Those, who reason from the
late origin of arts and sciences, though their inference wants
not force, may perhaps be refuted by considerations derived from
the nature of human society, which is in continual revolution,
between ignorance and knowledge, liberty and slavery, riches and
poverty; so that it is impossible for us, from our limited
experience, to foretell with assurance what events may or may not
be expected. Ancient learning and history seem to have been in
great danger of entirely perishing after the inundation of the
barbarous nations; and had these convulsions continued a little
longer, or been a little more violent, we should not probably
have now known what passed in the world a few centuries before
us. Nay, were it not for the superstition of the Popes, who
preserved a little jargon of Latin, in order to support the
appearance of an ancient and universal church, that tongue must
have been utterly lost; in which case, the Western world, being
totally barbarous, would not have been in a fit disposition for
receiving the G/REEK\ language and learning, which was conveyed
to them after the sacking of C/ONSTANTINOPLE\. When learning and
books had been extinguished, even the mechanical arts would have
fallen considerably to decay; and it is easily imagined, that
fable or tradition might ascribe to them a much later origin than
the true one. This vulgar argument, therefore, against the
eternity of the world, seems a little precarious.

     But here appears to be the foundation of a better argument.
L/UCULLUS\ was the first that brought cherry-trees from A/SIA\ to
E/UROPE\; though that tree thrives so well in many E/UROPEAN\
climates, that it grows in the woods without any culture. Is it
possible, that throughout a whole eternity, no E/UROPEAN\ had
ever passed into A/SIA\, and thought of transplanting so
delicious a fruit into his own country? Or if the tree was once
transplanted and propagated, how could it ever afterwards perish?
Empires may rise and fall, liberty and slavery succeed
alternately, ignorance and knowledge give place to each other;
but the cherry-tree will still remain in the woods of G/REECE\,
S/PAIN\, and I/TALY\, and will never be affected by the
revolutions of human society.

     It is not two thousand years since vines were transplanted
into F/RANCE\, though there is no climate in the world more
favourable to them. It is not three centuries since horses, cows,
sheep, swine, dogs, corn, were known in A/MERICA\. Is it
possible, that during the revolutions of a whole eternity, there
never arose a C/OLUMBUS\, who might open the communication
between E/UROPE\ and that continent? We may as well imagine, that
all men would wear stockings for ten thousand years, and never
have the sense to think of garters to tie them. All these seem
convincing proofs of the youth, or rather infancy, of the world;
as being founded on the operation of principles more constant and
steady than those by which human society is governed and
directed. Nothing less than a total convulsion of the elements
will ever destroy all the E/UROPEAN\ animals and vegetables which
are now to be found in the Western world.

     And what argument have you against such convulsions? replied
P/HILO\. Strong and almost incontestable proofs may be traced
over the whole earth, that every part of this globe has continued
for many ages entirely covered with water. And though order were
supposed inseparable from matter, and inherent in it; yet may
matter be susceptible of many and great revolutions, through the
endless periods of eternal duration. The incessant changes, to
which every part of it is subject, seem to intimate some such
general transformations; though, at the same time, it is
observable, that all the changes and corruptions of which we have
ever had experience, are but passages from one state of order to
another; nor can matter ever rest in total deformity and
confusion. What we see in the parts, we may infer in the whole;
at least, that is the method of reasoning on which you rest your
whole theory. And were I obliged to defend any particular system
of this nature, which I never willingly should do, I esteem none
more plausible than that which ascribes an eternal inherent
principle of order to the world, though attended with great and
continual revolutions and alterations. This at once solves all
difficulties; and if the solution, by being so general, is not
entirely complete and satisfactory, it is at least a theory that
we must sooner or later have recourse to, whatever system we
embrace. How could things have been as they are, were there not
an original inherent principle of order somewhere, in thought or
in matter? And it is very indifferent to which of these we give
the preference. Chance has no place, on any hypothesis, sceptical
or religious. Every thing is surely governed by steady,
inviolable laws. And were the inmost essence of things laid open
to us, we should then discover a scene, of which, at present, we
can have no idea. Instead of admiring the order of natural
beings, we should clearly see that it was absolutely impossible
for them, in the smallest article, ever to admit of any other
disposition.

     Were any one inclined to revive the ancient Pagan Theology,
which maintained, as we learn from H/ESIOD\, that this globe was
governed by 30,000 deities, who arose from the unknown powers of
nature: you would naturally object, C/LEANTHES\, that nothing is
gained by this hypothesis; and that it is as easy to suppose all
men animals, beings more numerous, but less perfect, to have
sprung immediately from a like origin. Push the same inference a
step further, and you will find a numerous society of deities as
explicable as one universal deity, who possesses within himself
the powers and perfections of the whole society. All these
systems, then, of Scepticism, Polytheism, and Theism, you must
allow, on your principles, to be on a like footing, and that no
one of them has any advantage over the others. You may thence
learn the fallacy of your principles.

                             * * * *

                             PART 7

     But here, continued P/HILO\, in examining the ancient system
of the soul of the world, there strikes me, all on a sudden, a
new idea, which, if just, must go near to subvert all your
reasoning, and destroy even your first inferences, on which you
repose such confidence. If the universe bears a greater likeness
to animal bodies and to vegetables, than to the works of human
art, it is more probable that its cause resembles the cause of
the former than that of the latter, and its origin ought rather
to be ascribed to generation or vegetation, than to reason or
design. Your conclusion, even according to your own principles,
is therefore lame and defective.

     Pray open up this argument a little further, said D/EMEA\,
for I do not rightly apprehend it in that concise manner in which
you have expressed it.

     Our friend C/LEANTHES\, replied P/HILO\, as you have heard,
asserts, that since no question of fact can be proved otherwise
than by experience, the existence of a Deity admits not of proof
from any other medium. The world, says he, resembles the works of
human contrivance; therefore its cause must also resemble that of
the other. Here we may remark, that the operation of one very
small part of nature, to wit man, upon another very small part,
to wit that inanimate matter lying within his reach, is the rule
by which C/LEANTHES\ judges of the origin of the whole; and he
measures objects, so widely disproportioned, by the same
individual standard. But to waive all objections drawn from this
topic, I affirm, that there are other parts of the universe
(besides the machines of human invention) which bear still a
greater resemblance to the fabric of the world, and which,
therefore, afford a better conjecture concerning the universal
origin of this system. These parts are animals and vegetables.
The world plainly resembles more an animal or a vegetable, than
it does a watch or a knitting-loom. Its cause, therefore, it is
more probable, resembles the cause of the former. The cause of
the former is generation or vegetation. The cause, therefore, of
the world, we may infer to be something similar or analogous to
generation or vegetation.

     But how is it conceivable, said D/EMEA\, that the world can
arise from any thing similar to vegetation or generation?

     Very easily, replied P/HILO\. In like manner as a tree sheds
its seed into the neighbouring fields, and produces other trees;
so the great vegetable, the world, or this planetary system,
produces within itself certain seeds, which, being scattered into
the surrounding chaos, vegetate into new worlds. A comet, for
instance, is the seed of a world; and after it has been fully
ripened, by passing from sun to sun, and star to star, it is at
last tossed into the unformed elements which every where surround
this universe, and immediately sprouts up into a new system.

     Or if, for the sake of variety (for I see no other
advantage), we should suppose this world to be an animal; a comet
is the egg of this animal: and in like manner as an ostrich lays
its egg in the sand, which, without any further care, hatches the
egg, and produces a new animal; so....

     I understand you, says D/EMEA\: But what wild, arbitrary
suppositions are these! What data have you for such extraordinary
conclusions? And is the slight, imaginary resemblance of the
world to a vegetable or an animal sufficient to establish the
same inference with regard to both? Objects, which are in general
so widely different, ought they to be a standard for each other?

     Right, cries P/HILO\: This is the topic on which I have all
along insisted. I have still asserted, that we have no data to
establish any system of cosmogony. Our experience, so imperfect
in itself, and so limited both in extent and duration, can afford
us no probable conjecture concerning the whole of things. But if
we must needs fix on some hypothesis; by what rule, pray, ought
we to determine our choice? Is there any other rule than the
greater similarity of the objects compared? And does not a plant
or an animal, which springs from vegetation or generation, bear a
stronger resemblance to the world, than does any artificial
machine, which arises from reason and design?

     But what is this vegetation and generation of which you
talk? said D/EMEA\. Can you explain their operations, and
anatomise that fine internal structure on which they depend?

     As much, at least, replied P/HILO\, as C/LEANTHES\ can
explain the operations of reason, or anatomise that internal
structure on which it depends. But without any such elaborate
disquisitions, when I see an animal, I infer, that it sprang from
generation; and that with as great certainty as you conclude a
house to have been reared by design. These words, generation,
reason, mark only certain powers and energies in nature, whose
effects are known, but whose essence is incomprehensible; and one
of these principles, more than the other, has no privilege for
being made a standard to the whole of nature.

     In reality, D/EMEA\, it may reasonably be expected, that the
larger the views are which we take of things, the better will
they conduct us in our conclusions concerning such extraordinary
and such magnificent subjects. In this little corner of the world
alone, there are four principles, reason, instinct, generation,
vegetation, which are similar to each other, and are the causes
of similar effects. What a number of other principles may we
naturally suppose in the immense extent and variety of the
universe, could we travel from planet to planet, and from system
to system, in order to examine each part of this mighty fabric?
Any one of these four principles above mentioned, (and a hundred
others which lie open to our conjecture,) may afford us a theory
by which to judge of the origin of the world; and it is a
palpable and egregious partiality to confine our view entirely to
that principle by which our own minds operate. Were this
principle more intelligible on that account, such a partiality
might be somewhat excusable: But reason, in its internal fabric
and structure, is really as little known to us as instinct or
vegetation; and, perhaps, even that vague, indeterminate word,
Nature, to which the vulgar refer every thing, is not at the
bottom more inexplicable. The effects of these principles are all
known to us from experience; but the principles themselves, and
their manner of operation, are totally unknown; nor is it less
intelligible, or less conformable to experience, to say, that the
world arose by vegetation, from a seed shed by another world,
than to say that it arose from a divine reason or contrivance,
according to the sense in which C/LEANTHES\ understands it.

     But methinks, said D/EMEA\, if the world had a vegetative
quality, and could sow the seeds of new worlds into the infinite
chaos, this power would be still an additional argument for
design in its author. For whence could arise so wonderful a
faculty but from design? Or how can order spring from any thing
which perceives not that order which it bestows?

     You need only look around you, replied P/HILO\, to satisfy
yourself with regard to this question. A tree bestows order and
organisation on that tree which springs from it, without knowing
the order; an animal in the same manner on its offspring; a bird
on its nest; and instances of this kind are even more frequent in
the world than those of order, which arise from reason and
contrivance. To say, that all this order in animals and
vegetables proceeds ultimately from design, is begging the
question; nor can that great point be ascertained otherwise than
by proving, a priori, both that order is, from its nature,
inseparably attached to thought; and that it can never of itself,
or from original unknown principles, belong to matter.

     But further, D/EMEA\; this objection which you urge can
never be made use of by C/LEANTHES\, without renouncing a defence
which he has already made against one of my objections. When I
inquired concerning the cause of that supreme reason and
intelligence into which he resolves every thing; he told me, that
the impossibility of satisfying such inquiries could never be
admitted as an objection in any species of philosophy. We must
stop somewhere, says he; nor is it ever within the reach of human
capacity to explain ultimate causes, or show the last connections
of any objects. It is sufficient, if any steps, so far as we go,
are supported by experience and observation. Now, that vegetation
and generation, as well as reason, are experienced to be
principles of order in nature, is undeniable. If I rest my system
of cosmogony on the former, preferably to the latter, it is at my
choice. The matter seems entirely arbitrary. And when C/LEANTHES\
asks me what is the cause of my great vegetative or generative
faculty, I am equally entitled to ask him the cause of his great
reasoning principle. These questions we have agreed to forbear on
both sides; and it is chiefly his interest on the present
occasion to stick to this agreement. Judging by our limited and
imperfect experience, generation has some privileges above
reason: for we see every day the latter arise from the former,
never the former from the latter.

     Compare, I beseech you, the consequences on both sides. The
world, say I, resembles an animal; therefore it is an animal,
therefore it arose from generation. The steps, I confess, are
wide; yet there is some small appearance of analogy in each step.
The world, says C/LEANTHES\, resembles a machine; therefore it is
a machine, therefore it arose from design. The steps are here
equally wide, and the analogy less striking. And if he pretends
to carry on my hypothesis a step further, and to infer design or
reason from the great principle of generation, on which I insist;
I may, with better authority, use the same freedom to push
further his hypothesis, and infer a divine generation or theogony
from his principle of reason. I have at least some faint shadow
of experience, which is the utmost that can ever be attained in
the present subject. Reason, in innumerable instances, is
observed to arise from the principle of generation, and never to
arise from any other principle.

     H/ESIOD\, and all the ancient mythologists, were so struck
with this analogy, that they universally explained the origin of
nature from an animal birth, and copulation. P/LATO\ too, so far
as he is intelligible, seems to have adopted some such notion in
his T/IMAEUS\.

     The B/RAHMINS\ assert, that the world arose from an infinite
spider, who spun this whole complicated mass from his bowels, and
annihilates afterwards the whole or any part of it, by absorbing
it again, and resolving it into his own essence. Here is a
species of cosmogony, which appears to us ridiculous; because a
spider is a little contemptible animal, whose operations we are
never likely to take for a model of the whole universe. But still
here is a new species of analogy, even in our globe. And were
there a planet wholly inhabited by spiders, (which is very
possible,) this inference would there appear as natural and
irrefragable as that which in our planet ascribes the origin of
all things to design and intelligence, as explained by
C/LEANTHES\. Why an orderly system may not be spun from the belly
as well as from the brain, it will be difficult for him to give a
satisfactory reason.

     I must confess, P/HILO\, replied C/LEANTHES\, that of all
men living, the task which you have undertaken, of raising doubts
and objections, suits you best, and seems, in a manner, natural
and unavoidable to you. So great is your fertility of invention,
that I am not ashamed to acknowledge myself unable, on a sudden,
to solve regularly such out-of-the-way difficulties as you
incessantly start upon me: though I clearly see, in general,
their fallacy and error. And I question not, but you are
yourself, at present, in the same case, and have not the solution
so ready as the objection: while you must be sensible, that
common sense and reason are entirely against you; and that such
whimsies as you have delivered, may puzzle, but never can
convince us.

                             * * * *

                             PART 8

     What you ascribe to the fertility of my invention, replied
P/HILO\, is entirely owing to the nature of the subject. In
subjects adapted to the narrow compass of human reason, there is
commonly but one determination, which carries probability or
conviction with it; and to a man of sound judgement, all other
suppositions, but that one, appear entirely absurd and
chimerical. But in such questions as the present, a hundred
contradictory views may preserve a kind of imperfect analogy; and
invention has here full scope to exert itself. Without any great
effort of thought, I believe that I could, in an instant, propose
other systems of cosmogony, which would have some faint
appearance of truth, though it is a thousand, a million to one,
if either yours or any one of mine be the true system.

     For instance, what if I should revive the old E/PICUREAN\
hypothesis? This is commonly, and I believe justly, esteemed the
most absurd system that has yet been proposed; yet I know not
whether, with a few alterations, it might not be brought to bear
a faint appearance of probability. Instead of supposing matter
infinite, as E/PICURUS\ did, let us suppose it finite. A finite
number of particles is only susceptible of finite transpositions:
and it must happen, in an eternal duration, that every possible
order or position must be tried an infinite number of times. This
world, therefore, with all its events, even the most minute, has
before been produced and destroyed, and will again be produced
and destroyed, without any bounds and limitations. No one, who
has a conception of the powers of infinite, in comparison of
finite, will ever scruple this determination.

     But this supposes, said D/EMEA\, that matter can acquire
motion, without any voluntary agent or first mover.

     And where is the difficulty, replied P/HILO\, of that
supposition? Every event, before experience, is equally difficult
and incomprehensible; and every event, after experience, is
equally easy and intelligible. Motion, in many instances, from
gravity, from elasticity, from electricity, begins in matter,
without any known voluntary agent: and to suppose always, in
these cases, an unknown voluntary agent, is mere hypothesis; and
hypothesis attended with no advantages. The beginning of motion
in matter itself is as conceivable a priori as its communication
from mind and intelligence.

     Besides, why may not motion have been propagated by impulse
through all eternity, and the same stock of it, or nearly the
same, be still upheld in the universe? As much is lost by the
composition of motion, as much is gained by its resolution. And
whatever the causes are, the fact is certain, that matter is, and
always has been, in continual agitation, as far as human
experience or tradition reaches. There is not probably, at
present, in the whole universe, one particle of matter at
absolute rest.

     And this very consideration too, continued P/HILO\, which we
have stumbled on in the course of the argument, suggests a new
hypothesis of cosmogony, that is not absolutely absurd and
improbable. Is there a system, an order, an economy of things, by
which matter can preserve that perpetual agitation which seems
essential to it, and yet maintain a constancy in the forms which
it produces? There certainly is such an economy; for this is
actually the case with the present world. The continual motion of
matter, therefore, in less than infinite transpositions, must
produce this economy or order; and by its very nature, that
order, when once established, supports itself, for many ages, if
not to eternity. But wherever matter is so poised, arranged, and
adjusted, as to continue in perpetual motion, and yet preserve a
constancy in the forms, its situation must, of necessity, have
all the same appearance of art and contrivance which we observe
at present. All the parts of each form must have a relation to
each other, and to the whole; and the whole itself must have a
relation to the other parts of the universe; to the element in
which the form subsists; to the materials with which it repairs
its waste and decay; and to every other form which is hostile or
friendly. A defect in any of these particulars destroys the form;
and the matter of which it is composed is again set loose, and is
thrown into irregular motions and fermentations, till it unite
itself to some other regular form. If no such form be prepared to
receive it, and if there be a great quantity of this corrupted
matter in the universe, the universe itself is entirely
disordered; whether it be the feeble embryo of a world in its
first beginnings that is thus destroyed, or the rotten carcass of
one languishing in old age and infirmity. In either case, a chaos
ensues; till finite, though innumerable revolutions produce at
last some forms, whose parts and organs are so adjusted as to
support the forms amidst a continued succession of matter.

     Suppose (for we shall endeavour to vary the expression),
that matter were thrown into any position, by a blind, unguided
force; it is evident that this first position must, in all
probability, be the most confused and most disorderly imaginable,
without any resemblance to those works of human contrivance,
which, along with a symmetry of parts, discover an adjustment of
means to ends, and a tendency to self-preservation. If the
actuating force cease after this operation, matter must remain
for ever in disorder, and continue an immense chaos, without any
proportion or activity. But suppose that the actuating force,
whatever it be, still continues in matter, this first position
will immediately give place to a second, which will likewise in
all probability be as disorderly as the first, and so on through
many successions of changes and revolutions. No particular order
or position ever continues a moment unaltered. The original
force, still remaining in activity, gives a perpetual
restlessness to matter. Every possible situation is produced, and
instantly destroyed. If a glimpse or dawn of order appears for a
moment, it is instantly hurried away, and confounded, by that
never-ceasing force which actuates every part of matter.

     Thus the universe goes on for many ages in a continued
succession of chaos and disorder. But is it not possible that it
may settle at last, so as not to lose its motion and active force
(for that we have supposed inherent in it), yet so as to preserve
an uniformity of appearance, amidst the continual motion and
fluctuation of its parts? This we find to be the case with the
universe at present. Every individual is perpetually changing,
and every part of every individual; and yet the whole remains, in
appearance, the same. May we not hope for such a position, or
rather be assured of it, from the eternal revolutions of unguided
matter; and may not this account for all the appearing wisdom and
contrivance which is in the universe? Let us contemplate the
subject a little, and we shall find, that this adjustment, if
attained by matter of a seeming stability in the forms, with a
real and perpetual revolution or motion of parts, affords a
plausible, if not a true solution of the difficulty.

     It is in vain, therefore, to insist upon the uses of the
parts in animals or vegetables, and their curious adjustment to
each other. I would fain know, how an animal could subsist,
unless its parts were so adjusted? Do we not find, that it
immediately perishes whenever this adjustment ceases, and that
its matter corrupting tries some new form? It happens indeed,
that the parts of the world are so well adjusted, that some
regular form immediately lays claim to this corrupted matter: and
if it were not so, could the world subsist? Must it not dissolve
as well as the animal, and pass through new positions and
situations, till in great, but finite succession, it falls at
last into the present or some such order?

 

     It is well, replied C/LEANTHES\, you told us, that this
hypothesis was suggested on a sudden, in the course of the
argument. Had you had leisure to examine it, you would soon have
perceived the insuperable objections to which it is exposed. No
form, you say, can subsist, unless it possess those powers and
organs requisite for its subsistence: some new order or economy
must be tried, and so on, without intermission; till at last some
order, which can support and maintain itself, is fallen upon. But
according to this hypothesis, whence arise the many conveniences
and advantages which men and all animals possess? Two eyes, two
ears, are not absolutely necessary for the subsistence of the
species. Human race might have been propagated and preserved,
without horses, dogs, cows, sheep, and those innumerable fruits
and products which serve to our satisfaction and enjoyment. If no
camels had been created for the use of man in the sandy deserts
of A/FRICA\ and A/RABIA\, would the world have been dissolved? If
no lodestone had been framed to give that wonderful and useful
direction to the needle, would human society and the human kind
have been immediately extinguished? Though the maxims of Nature
be in general very frugal, yet instances of this kind are far
from being rare; and any one of them is a sufficient proof of
design, and of a benevolent design, which gave rise to the order
and arrangement of the universe.

     At least, you may safely infer, said P/HILO\, that the
foregoing hypothesis is so far incomplete and imperfect, which I
shall not scruple to allow. But can we ever reasonably expect
greater success in any attempts of this nature? Or can we ever
hope to erect a system of cosmogony, that will be liable to no
exceptions, and will contain no circumstance repugnant to our
limited and imperfect experience of the analogy of Nature? Your
theory itself cannot surely pretend to any such advantage, even
though you have run into Anthropomorphism, the better to preserve
a conformity to common experience. Let us once more put it to
trial. In all instances which we have ever seen, ideas are copied
from real objects, and are ectypal, not archetypal, to express
myself in learned terms: You reverse this order, and give thought
the precedence. In all instances which we have ever seen, thought
has no influence upon matter, except where that matter is so
conjoined with it as to have an equal reciprocal influence upon
it. No animal can move immediately any thing but the members of
its own body; and indeed, the equality of action and reaction
seems to be an universal law of nature: But your theory implies a
contradiction to this experience. These instances, with many
more, which it were easy to collect, (particularly the
supposition of a mind or system of thought that is eternal, or,
in other words, an animal ingenerable and immortal); these
instances, I say, may teach all of us sobriety in condemning each
other, and let us see, that as no system of this kind ought ever
to be received from a slight analogy, so neither ought any to be
rejected on account of a small incongruity. For that is an
inconvenience from which we can justly pronounce no one to be
exempted.

     All religious systems, it is confessed, are subject to great
and insuperable difficulties. Each disputant triumphs in his
turn; while he carries on an offensive war, and exposes the
absurdities, barbarities, and pernicious tenets of his
antagonist. But all of them, on the whole, prepare a complete
triumph for the Sceptic; who tells them, that no system ought
ever to be embraced with regard to such subjects: For this plain
reason, that no absurdity ought ever to be assented to with
regard to any subject. A total suspense of judgement is here our
only reasonable resource. And if every attack, as is commonly
observed, and no defence, among Theologians, is successful; how
complete must be his victory, who remains always, with all
mankind, on the offensive, and has himself no fixed station or
abiding city, which he is ever, on any occasion, obliged to
defend?

                             * * * *

                             PART 9

     But if so many difficulties attend the argument a
posteriori, said D/EMEA\, had we not better adhere to that simple
and sublime argument a priori, which, by offering to us
infallible demonstration, cuts off at once all doubt and
difficulty? By this argument, too, we may prove the infinity of
the Divine attributes, which, I am afraid, can never be
ascertained with certainty from any other topic. For how can an
effect, which either is finite, or, for aught we know, may be so;
how can such an effect, I say, prove an infinite cause? The unity
too of the Divine Nature, it is very difficult, if not absolutely
impossible, to deduce merely from contemplating the works of
nature; nor will the uniformity alone of the plan, even were it
allowed, give us any assurance of that attribute. Whereas the
argument a priori ....

     You seem to reason, D/EMEA\, interposed C/LEANTHES\, as if
those advantages and conveniences in the abstract argument were
full proofs of its solidity. But it is first proper, in my
opinion, to determine what argument of this nature you choose to
insist on; and we shall afterwards, from itself, better than from
its useful consequences, endeavour to determine what value we
ought to put upon it.

     The argument, replied D/EMEA\, which I would insist on, is
the common one. Whatever exists must have a cause or reason of
its existence; it being absolutely impossible for any thing to
produce itself, or be the cause of its own existence. In mounting
up, therefore, from effects to causes, we must either go on in
tracing an infinite succession, without any ultimate cause at
all; or must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause, that
is necessarily existent: Now, that the first supposition is
absurd, may be thus proved. In the infinite chain or succession
of causes and effects, each single effect is determined to exist
by the power and efficacy of that cause which immediately
preceded; but the whole eternal chain or succession, taken
together, is not determined or caused by any thing; and yet it is
evident that it requires a cause or reason, as much as any
particular object which begins to exist in time. The question is
still reasonable, why this particular succession of causes
existed from eternity, and not any other succession, or no
succession at all. If there be no necessarily existent being, any
supposition which can be formed is equally possible; nor is there
any more absurdity in Nothing's having existed from eternity,
than there is in that succession of causes which constitutes the
universe. What was it, then, which determined Something to exist
rather than Nothing, and bestowed being on a particular
possibility, exclusive of the rest? External causes, there are
supposed to be none. Chance is a word without a meaning. Was it
Nothing? But that can never produce any thing. We must,
therefore, have recourse to a necessarily existent Being, who
carries the REASON of his existence in himself, and who cannot be
supposed not to exist, without an express contradiction. There
is, consequently, such a Being; that is, there is a Deity.

     I shall not leave it to P/HILO\, said C/LEANTHES\, though I
know that the starting objections is his chief delight, to point
out the weakness of this metaphysical reasoning. It seems to me
so obviously ill-grounded, and at the same time of so little
consequence to the cause of true piety and religion, that I shall
myself venture to show the fallacy of it.

     I shall begin with observing, that there is an evident
absurdity in pretending to demonstrate a matter of fact, or to
prove it by any arguments a priori. Nothing is demonstrable,
unless the contrary implies a contradiction. Nothing, that is
distinctly conceivable, implies a contradiction. Whatever we
conceive as existent, we can also conceive as non-existent. There
is no being, therefore, whose non-existence implies a
contradiction. Consequently there is no being, whose existence is
demonstrable. I propose this argument as entirely decisive, and
am willing to rest the whole controversy upon it.

     It is pretended that the Deity is a necessarily existent
being; and this necessity of his existence is attempted to be
explained by asserting, that if we knew his whole essence or
nature, we should perceive it to be as impossible for him not to
exist, as for twice two not to be four. But it is evident that
this can never happen, while our faculties remain the same as at
present. It will still be possible for us, at any time, to
conceive the non-existence of what we formerly conceived to
exist; nor can the mind ever lie under a necessity of supposing
any object to remain always in being; in the same manner as we
lie under a necessity of always conceiving twice two to be four.
The words, therefore, necessary existence, have no meaning; or,
which is the same thing, none that is consistent.

     But further, why may not the material universe be the
necessarily existent Being, according to this pretended
explication of necessity? We dare not affirm that we know all the
qualities of matter; and for aught we can determine, it may
contain some qualities, which, were they known, would make its
non-existence appear as great a contradiction as that twice two
is five. I find only one argument employed to prove, that the
material world is not the necessarily existent Being: and this
argument is derived from the contingency both of the matter and
the form of the world. "Any particle of matter," it is said, "may
be conceived to be annihilated; and any form may be conceived to
be altered. Such an annihilation or alteration, therefore, is not
impossible."22 But it seems a great partiality not to perceive,
that the same argument extends equally to the Deity, so far as we
have any conception of him; and that the mind can at least
imagine him to be non-existent, or his attributes to be altered.
It must be some unknown, inconceivable qualities, which can make
his non-existence appear impossible, or his attributes
unalterable: And no reason can be assigned, why these qualities
may not belong to matter. As they are altogether unknown and
inconceivable, they can never be proved incompatible with it.

     Add to this, that in tracing an eternal succession of
objects, it seems absurd to inquire for a general cause or first
author. How can any thing, that exists from eternity, have a
cause, since that relation implies a priority in time, and a
beginning of existence?

     In such a chain, too, or succession of objects, each part is
caused by that which preceded it, and causes that which succeeds
it. Where then is the difficulty? But the whole, you say, wants a
cause. I answer, that the uniting of these parts into a whole,
like the uniting of several distinct countries into one kingdom,
or several distinct members into one body, is performed merely by
an arbitrary act of the mind, and has no influence on the nature
of things. Did I show you the particular causes of each
individual in a collection of twenty particles of matter, I
should think it very unreasonable, should you afterwards ask me,
what was the cause of the whole twenty. This is sufficiently
explained in explaining the cause of the parts.

     Though the reasonings which you have urged, C/LEANTHES\, may
well excuse me, said P/HILO\, from starting any further
difficulties, yet I cannot forbear insisting still upon another
topic. It is observed by arithmeticians, that the products of 9,
compose always either 9, or some lesser product of 9, if you add
together all the characters of which any of the former products
is composed. Thus, of 18, 27, 36, which are products of 9, you
make 9 by adding 1 to 8, 2 to 7, 3 to 6. Thus, 369 is a product
also of 9; and if you add 3, 6, and 9, you make 18, a lesser
product of 9.23 To a superficial observer, so wonderful a
regularity may be admired as the effect either of chance or
design: but a skilful algebraist immediately concludes it to be
the work of necessity, and demonstrates, that it must for ever
result from the nature of these numbers. Is it not probable, I
ask, that the whole economy of the universe is conducted by a
like necessity, though no human algebra can furnish a key which
solves the difficulty? And instead of admiring the order of
natural beings, may it not happen, that, could we penetrate into
the intimate nature of bodies, we should clearly see why it was
absolutely impossible they could ever admit of any other
disposition? So dangerous is it to introduce this idea of
necessity into the present question! and so naturally does it
afford an inference directly opposite to the religious
hypothesis!

     But dropping all these abstractions, continued P/HILO\, and
confining ourselves to more familiar topics, I shall venture to
add an observation, that the argument a priori has seldom been
found very convincing, except to people of a metaphysical head,
who have accustomed themselves to abstract reasoning, and who,
finding from mathematics, that the understanding frequently leads
to truth through obscurity, and, contrary to first appearances,
have transferred the same habit of thinking to subjects where it
ought not to have place. Other people, even of good sense and the
best inclined to religion, feel always some deficiency in such
arguments, though they are not perhaps able to explain distinctly
where it lies; a certain proof that men ever did, and ever will
derive their religion from other sources than from this species
of reasoning.

                             * * * *

                             PART 10

     It is my opinion, I own, replied D/EMEA\, that each man
feels, in a manner, the truth of religion within his own breast,
and, from a consciousness of his imbecility and misery, rather
than from any reasoning, is led to seek protection from that
Being, on whom he and all nature is dependent. So anxious or so
tedious are even the best scenes of life, that futurity is still
the object of all our hopes and fears. We incessantly look
forward, and endeavour, by prayers, adoration, and sacrifice, to
appease those unknown powers, whom we find, by experience, so
able to afflict and oppress us. Wretched creatures that we are!
what resource for us amidst the innumerable ills of life, did not
religion suggest some methods of atonement, and appease those
terrors with which we are incessantly agitated and tormented?

     I am indeed persuaded, said P/HILO\, that the best, and
indeed the only method of bringing every one to a due sense of
religion, is by just representations of the misery and wickedness
of men. And for that purpose a talent of eloquence and strong
imagery is more requisite than that of reasoning and argument.
For is it necessary to prove what every one feels within himself?
It is only necessary to make us feel it, if possible, more
intimately and sensibly.

     The people, indeed, replied D/EMEA\, are sufficiently
convinced of this great and melancholy truth. The miseries of
life; the unhappiness of man; the general corruptions of our
nature; the unsatisfactory enjoyment of pleasures, riches,
honours; these phrases have become almost proverbial in all
languages. And who can doubt of what all men declare from their
own immediate feeling and experience?

     In this point, said P/HILO\, the learned are perfectly
agreed with the vulgar; and in all letters, sacred and profane,
the topic of human misery has been insisted on with the most
pathetic eloquence that sorrow and melancholy could inspire. The
poets, who speak from sentiment, without a system, and whose
testimony has therefore the more authority, abound in images of
this nature. From Homer down to Dr. Young, the whole inspired
tribe have ever been sensible, that no other representation of
things would suit the feeling and observation of each individual.

     As to authorities, replied D/EMEA\, you need not seek them.
Look round this library of C/LEANTHES\. I shall venture to
affirm, that, except authors of particular sciences, such as
chemistry or botany, who have no occasion to treat of human life,
there is scarce one of those innumerable writers, from whom the
sense of human misery has not, in some passage or other, extorted
a complaint and confession of it. At least, the chance is
entirely on that side; and no one author has ever, so far as I
can recollect, been so extravagant as to deny it.

     There you must excuse me, said P/HILO\: L/EIBNIZ\ has denied
it; and is perhaps the first24 who ventured upon so bold and
paradoxical an opinion; at least, the first who made it essential
to his philosophical system.

     And by being the first, replied D/EMEA\, might he not have
been sensible of his error? For is this a subject in which
philosophers can propose to make discoveries especially in so
late an age? And can any man hope by a simple denial (for the
subject scarcely admits of reasoning), to bear down the united
testimony of mankind, founded on sense and consciousness?

     And why should man, added he, pretend to an exemption from
the lot of all other animals? The whole earth, believe me,
P/HILO\, is cursed and polluted. A perpetual war is kindled
amongst all living creatures. Necessity, hunger, want, stimulate
the strong and courageous: Fear, anxiety, terror, agitate the
weak and infirm. The first entrance into life gives anguish to
the new-born infant and to its wretched parent: Weakness,
impotence, distress, attend each stage of that life: and it is at
last finished in agony and horror.

     Observe too, says P/HILO\, the curious artifices of Nature,
in order to embitter the life of every living being. The stronger
prey upon the weaker, and keep them in perpetual terror and
anxiety. The weaker too, in their turn, often prey upon the
stronger, and vex and molest them without relaxation. Consider
that innumerable race of insects, which either are bred on the
body of each animal, or, flying about, infix their stings in him.
These insects have others still less than themselves, which
torment them. And thus on each hand, before and behind, above and
below, every animal is surrounded with enemies, which incessantly
seek his misery and destruction.

     Man alone, said D/EMEA\, seems to be, in part, an exception
to this rule. For by combination in society, he can easily master
lions, tigers, and bears, whose greater strength and agility
naturally enable them to prey upon him.

     On the contrary, it is here chiefly, cried P/HILO\, that the
uniform and equal maxims of Nature are most apparent. Man, it is
true, can, by combination, surmount all his real enemies, and
become master of the whole animal creation: but does he not
immediately raise up to himself imaginary enemies, the demons of
his fancy, who haunt him with superstitious terrors, and blast
every enjoyment of life? His pleasure, as he imagines, becomes,
in their eyes, a crime: his food and repose give them umbrage and
offence: his very sleep and dreams furnish new materials to
anxious fear: and even death, his refuge from every other ill,
presents only the dread of endless and innumerable woes. Nor does
the wolf molest more the timid flock, than superstition does the
anxious breast of wretched mortals.

     Besides, consider, D/EMEA\: This very society, by which we
surmount those wild beasts, our natural enemies; what new enemies
does it not raise to us? What woe and misery does it not
occasion? Man is the greatest enemy of man. Oppression,
injustice, contempt, contumely, violence, sedition, war, calumny,
treachery, fraud; by these they mutually torment each other; and
they would soon dissolve that society which they had formed, were
it not for the dread of still greater ills, which must attend
their separation.

     But though these external insults, said D/EMEA\, from
animals, from men, from all the elements, which assault us, form
a frightful catalogue of woes, they are nothing in comparison of
those which arise within ourselves, from the distempered
condition of our mind and body. How many lie under the lingering
torment of diseases? Hear the pathetic enumeration of the great
poet.

     Intestine stone and ulcer, colic-pangs,

     Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,

     And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy,

     Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence.

     Dire was the tossing, deep the groans: despair

     Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch.

     And over them triumphant death his dart

     Shook: but delay'd to strike, though oft invok'd

     With vows, as their chief good and final hope.25

     

     The disorders of the mind, continued D/EMEA\, though more
secret, are not perhaps less dismal and vexatious. Remorse,
shame, anguish, rage, disappointment, anxiety, fear, dejection,
despair; who has ever passed through life without cruel inroads
from these tormentors? How many have scarcely ever felt any
better sensations? Labour and poverty, so abhorred by every one,
are the certain lot of the far greater number; and those few
privileged persons, who enjoy ease and opulence, never reach
contentment or true felicity. All the goods of life united would
not make a very happy man; but all the ills united would make a
wretch indeed; and any one of them almost (and who can be free
from every one?) nay often the absence of one good (and who can
possess all?) is sufficient to render life ineligible.

     Were a stranger to drop on a sudden into this world, I would
show him, as a specimen of its ills, a hospital full of diseases,
a prison crowded with malefactors and debtors, a field of battle
strewed with carcasses, a fleet foundering in the ocean, a nation
languishing under tyranny, famine, or pestilence. To turn the gay
side of life to him, and give him a notion of its pleasures;
whither should I conduct him? to a ball, to an opera, to court?
He might justly think, that I was only showing him a diversity of
distress and sorrow.

     There is no evading such striking instances, said P/HILO\,
but by apologies, which still further aggravate the charge. Why
have all men, I ask, in all ages, complained incessantly of the
miseries of life? ... They have no just reason, says one: these
complaints proceed only from their discontented, repining,
anxious disposition.... And can there possibly, I reply, be a
more certain foundation of misery, than such a wretched temper?

     But if they were really as unhappy as they pretend, says my
antagonist, why do they remain in life? ...

     Not satisfied with life, afraid of death.

This is the secret chain, say I, that holds us. We are terrified,
not bribed to the continuance of our existence.

     It is only a false delicacy, he may insist, which a few
refined spirits indulge, and which has spread these complaints
among the whole race of mankind. . . . And what is this delicacy,
I ask, which you blame? Is it any thing but a greater sensibility
to all the pleasures and pains of life? and if the man of a
delicate, refined temper, by being so much more alive than the
rest of the world, is only so much more unhappy, what judgement
must we form in general of human life?

     Let men remain at rest, says our adversary, and they will be
easy. They are willing artificers of their own misery. . . . No!
reply I: an anxious languor follows their repose; disappointment,
vexation, trouble, their activity and ambition.

     I can observe something like what you mention in some
others, replied C/LEANTHES\: but I confess I feel little or
nothing of it in myself, and hope that it is not so common as you
represent it.

     If you feel not human misery yourself, cried D/EMEA\, I
congratulate you on so happy a singularity. Others, seemingly the
most prosperous, have not been ashamed to vent their complaints
in the most melancholy strains. Let us attend to the great, the
fortunate emperor, C/HARLES\ V, when, tired with human grandeur,
he resigned all his extensive dominions into the hands of his
son. In the last harangue which he made on that memorable
occasion, he publicly avowed, that the greatest prosperities
which he had ever enjoyed, had been mixed with so many
adversities, that he might truly say he had never enjoyed any
satisfaction or contentment. But did the retired life, in which
he sought for shelter, afford him any greater happiness? If we
may credit his son's account, his repentance commenced the very
day of his resignation.

     C/ICERO\'s fortune, from small beginnings, rose to the
greatest lustre and renown; yet what pathetic complaints of the
ills of life do his familiar letters, as well as philosophical
discourses, contain? And suitably to his own experience, he
introduces C/ATO\, the great, the fortunate C/ATO\, protesting in
his old age, that had he a new life in his offer, he would reject
the present.

     Ask yourself, ask any of your acquaintance, whether they
would live over again the last ten or twenty years of their life.
No! but the next twenty, they say, will be better:

     And from the dregs of life, hope to receive

     What the first sprightly running could not give.26

     Thus at last they find (such is the greatness of human
misery, it reconciles even contradictions), that they complain at
once of the shortness of life, and of its vanity and sorrow.

     And is it possible, C/LEANTHES\, said P/HILO\, that after
all these reflections, and infinitely more, which might be
suggested, you can still persevere in your Anthropomorphism, and
assert the moral attributes of the Deity, his justice,
benevolence, mercy, and rectitude, to be of the same nature with
these virtues in human creatures? His power we allow is infinite:
whatever he wills is executed: but neither man nor any other
animal is happy: therefore he does not will their happiness. His
wisdom is infinite: He is never mistaken in choosing the means to
any end: But the course of Nature tends not to human or animal
felicity: therefore it is not established for that purpose.
Through the whole compass of human knowledge, there are no
inferences more certain and infallible than these. In what
respect, then, do his benevolence and mercy resemble the
benevolence and mercy of men?

     E/PICURUS\'s old questions are yet unanswered.

     Is he willing to prevent evil, but not able? then is he
impotent. Is he able, but not willing? then is he malevolent. Is
he both able and willing? whence then is evil?

     You ascribe, C/LEANTHES\ (and I believe justly), a purpose
and intention to Nature. But what, I beseech you, is the object
of that curious artifice and machinery, which she has displayed
in all animals? The preservation alone of individuals, and
propagation of the species. It seems enough for her purpose, if
such a rank be barely upheld in the universe, without any care or
concern for the happiness of the members that compose it. No
resource for this purpose: no machinery, in order merely to give
pleasure or ease: no fund of pure joy and contentment: no
indulgence, without some want or necessity accompanying it. At
least, the few phenomena of this nature are overbalanced by
opposite phenomena of still greater importance.

     Our sense of music, harmony, and indeed beauty of all kinds,
gives satisfaction, without being absolutely necessary to the
preservation and propagation of the species. But what racking
pains, on the other hand, arise from gouts, gravels, megrims,
toothaches, rheumatisms, where the injury to the animal machinery
is either small or incurable? Mirth, laughter, play, frolic, seem
gratuitous satisfactions, which have no further tendency: spleen,
melancholy, discontent, superstition, are pains of the same
nature. How then does the Divine benevolence display itself, in
the sense of you Anthropomorphites? None but we Mystics, as you
were pleased to call us, can account for this strange mixture of
phenomena, by deriving it from attributes, infinitely perfect,
but incomprehensible.

     And have you at last, said C/LEANTHES\ smiling, betrayed
your intentions, P/HILO\ ? Your long agreement with D/EMEA\ did
indeed a little surprise me; but I find you were all the while
erecting a concealed battery against me. And I must confess, that
you have now fallen upon a subject worthy of your noble spirit of
opposition and controversy. If you can make out the present
point, and prove mankind to be unhappy or corrupted, there is an
end at once of all religion. For to what purpose establish the
natural attributes of the Deity, while the moral are still
doubtful and uncertain?

     You take umbrage very easily, replied D/EMEA\, at opinions
the most innocent, and the most generally received, even amongst
the religious and devout themselves: and nothing can be more
surprising than to find a topic like this, concerning the
wickedness and misery of man, charged with no less than Atheism
and profaneness. Have not all pious divines and preachers, who
have indulged their rhetoric on so fertile a subject; have they
not easily, I say, given a solution of any difficulties which may
attend it? This world is but a point in comparison of the
universe; this life but a moment in comparison of eternity. The
present evil phenomena, therefore, are rectified in other
regions, and in some future period of existence. And the eyes of
men, being then opened to larger views of things, see the whole
connection of general laws; and trace with adoration, the
benevolence and rectitude of the Deity, through all the mazes and
intricacies of his providence.

     No! replied C/LEANTHES\, No! These arbitrary suppositions
can never be admitted, contrary to matter of fact, visible and
uncontroverted. Whence can any cause be known but from its known
effects? Whence can any hypothesis be proved but from the
apparent phenomena? To establish one hypothesis upon another, is
building entirely in the air; and the utmost we ever attain, by
these conjectures and fictions, is to ascertain the bare
possibility of our opinion; but never can we, upon such terms,
establish its reality.

     The only method of supporting Divine benevolence, and it is
what I willingly embrace, is to deny absolutely the misery and
wickedness of man. Your representations are exaggerated; your
melancholy views mostly fictitious; your inferences contrary to
fact and experience. Health is more common than sickness;
pleasure than pain; happiness than misery. And for one vexation
which we meet with, we attain, upon computation, a hundred
enjoyments.

     Admitting your position, replied P/HILO\, which yet is
extremely doubtful, you must at the same time allow, that if pain
be less frequent than pleasure, it is infinitely more violent and
durable. One hour of it is often able to outweigh a day, a week,
a month of our common insipid enjoyments; and how many days,
weeks, and months, are passed by several in the most acute
torments? Pleasure, scarcely in one instance, is ever able to
reach ecstasy and rapture; and in no one instance can it continue
for any time at its highest pitch and altitude. The spirits
evaporate, the nerves relax, the fabric is disordered, and the
enjoyment quickly degenerates into fatigue and uneasiness. But
pain often, good God, how often! rises to torture and agony; and
the longer it continues, it becomes still more genuine agony and
torture. Patience is exhausted, courage languishes, melancholy
seizes us, and nothing terminates our misery but the removal of
its cause, or another event, which is the sole cure of all evil,
but which, from our natural folly, we regard with still greater
horror and consternation.

     But not to insist upon these topics, continued P/HILO\,
though most obvious, certain, and important; I must use the
freedom to admonish you, C/LEANTHES\, that you have put the
controversy upon a most dangerous issue, and are unawares
introducing a total scepticism into the most essential articles
of natural and revealed theology. What! no method of fixing a
just foundation for religion, unless we allow the happiness of
human life, and maintain a continued existence even in this
world, with all our present pains, infirmities, vexations, and
follies, to be eligible and desirable! But this is contrary to
every one's feeling and experience: It is contrary to an
authority so established as nothing can subvert. No decisive
proofs can ever be produced against this authority; nor is it
possible for you to compute, estimate, and compare, all the pains
and all the pleasures in the lives of all men and of all animals:
And thus, by your resting the whole system of religion on a
point, which, from its very nature, must for ever be uncertain,
you tacitly confess, that that system is equally uncertain.

     But allowing you what never will be believed, at least what
you never possibly can prove, that animal, or at least human
happiness, in this life, exceeds its misery, you have yet done
nothing: For this is not, by any means, what we expect from
infinite power, infinite wisdom, and infinite goodness. Why is
there any misery at all in the world? Not by chance surely. From
some cause then. Is it from the intention of the Deity? But he is
perfectly benevolent. Is it contrary to his intention? But he is
almighty. Nothing can shake the solidity of this reasoning, so
short, so clear, so decisive; except we assert, that these
subjects exceed all human capacity, and that our common measures
of truth and falsehood are not applicable to them; a topic which
I have all along insisted on, but which you have, from the
beginning, rejected with scorn and indignation.

     But I will be contented to retire still from this
entrenchment, for I deny that you can ever force me in it. I will
allow, that pain or misery in man is compatible with infinite
power and goodness in the Deity, even in your sense of these
attributes: What are you advanced by all these concessions? A
mere possible compatibility is not sufficient. You must prove
these pure, unmixed, and uncontrollable attributes from the
present mixed and confused phenomena, and from these alone. A
hopeful undertaking! Were the phenomena ever so pure and unmixed,
yet being finite, they would be insufficient for that purpose.
How much more, where they are also so jarring and discordant!

     Here, C/LEANTHES\, I find myself at ease in my argument.
Here I triumph. Formerly, when we argued concerning the natural
attributes of intelligence and design, I needed all my sceptical
and metaphysical subtlety to elude your grasp. In many views of
the universe, and of its parts, particularly the latter, the
beauty and fitness of final causes strike us with such
irresistible force, that all objections appear (what I believe
they really are) mere cavils and sophisms; nor can we then
imagine how it was ever possible for us to repose any weight on
them. But there is no view of human life, or of the condition of
mankind, from which, without the greatest violence, we can infer
the moral attributes, or learn that infinite benevolence,
conjoined with infinite power and infinite wisdom, which we must
discover by the eyes of faith alone. It is your turn now to tug
the labouring oar, and to support your philosophical subtleties
against the dictates of plain reason and experience.

                             * * * *

                             PART 11

     I scruple not to allow, said C/LEANTHES\, that I have been
apt to suspect the frequent repetition of the word infinite,
which we meet with in all theological writers, to savour more of
panegyric than of philosophy; and that any purposes of reasoning,
and even of religion, would be better served, were we to rest
contented with more accurate and more moderate expressions. The
terms, admirable, excellent, superlatively great, wise, and holy;
these sufficiently fill the imaginations of men; and any thing
beyond, besides that it leads into absurdities, has no influence
on the affections or sentiments. Thus, in the present subject, if
we abandon all human analogy, as seems your intention, D/EMEA\, I
am afraid we abandon all religion, and retain no conception of
the great object of our adoration. If we preserve human analogy,
we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile any mixture of
evil in the universe with infinite attributes; much less can we
ever prove the latter from the former. But supposing the Author
of Nature to be finitely perfect, though far exceeding mankind, a
satisfactory account may then be given of natural and moral evil,
and every untoward phenomenon be explained and adjusted. A less
evil may then be chosen, in order to avoid a greater;
inconveniences be submitted to, in order to reach a desirable
end; and in a word, benevolence, regulated by wisdom, and limited
by necessity, may produce just such a world as the present. You,
P/HILO\, who are so prompt at starting views, and reflections,
and analogies, I would gladly hear, at length, without
interruption, your opinion of this new theory; and if it deserve
our attention, we may afterwards, at more leisure, reduce it into
form.

     My sentiments, replied P/HILO\, are not worth being made a
mystery of; and therefore, without any ceremony, I shall deliver
what occurs to me with regard to the present subject. It must, I
think, be allowed, that if a very limited intelligence, whom we
shall suppose utterly unacquainted with the universe, were
assured, that it were the production of a very good, wise, and
powerful Being, however finite, he would, from his conjectures,
form beforehand a different notion of it from what we find it to
be by experience; nor would he ever imagine, merely from these
attributes of the cause, of which he is informed, that the effect
could be so full of vice and misery and disorder, as it appears
in this life. Supposing now, that this person were brought into
the world, still assured that it was the workmanship of such a
sublime and benevolent Being; he might, perhaps, be surprised at
the disappointment; but would never retract his former belief, if
founded on any very solid argument; since such a limited
intelligence must be sensible of his own blindness and ignorance,
and must allow, that there may be many solutions of those
phenomena, which will for ever escape his comprehension. But
supposing, which is the real case with regard to man, that this
creature is not antecedently convinced of a supreme intelligence,
benevolent, and powerful, but is left to gather such a belief
from the appearances of things; this entirely alters the case,
nor will he ever find any reason for such a conclusion. He may be
fully convinced of the narrow limits of his understanding; but
this will not help him in forming an inference concerning the
goodness of superior powers, since he must form that inference
from what he knows, not from what he is ignorant of. The more you
exaggerate his weakness and ignorance, the more diffident you
render him, and give him the greater suspicion that such subjects
are beyond the reach of his faculties. You are obliged,
therefore, to reason with him merely from the known phenomena,
and to drop every arbitrary supposition or conjecture.

     Did I show you a house or palace, where there was not one
apartment convenient or agreeable; where the windows, doors,
fires, passages, stairs, and the whole economy of the building,
were the source of noise, confusion, fatigue, darkness, and the
extremes of heat and cold; you would certainly blame the
contrivance, without any further examination. The architect would
in vain display his subtlety, and prove to you, that if this door
or that window were altered, greater ills would ensue. What he
says may be strictly true: The alteration of one particular,
while the other parts of the building remain, may only augment
the inconveniences. But still you would assert in general, that,
if the architect had had skill and good intentions, he might have
formed such a plan of the whole, and might have adjusted the
parts in such a manner, as would have remedied all or most of
these inconveniences. His ignorance, or even your own ignorance
of such a plan, will never convince you of the impossibility of
it. If you find any inconveniences and deformities in the
building, you will always, without entering into any detail,
condemn the architect.

     In short, I repeat the question: Is the world, considered in
general, and as it appears to us in this life, different from
what a man, or such a limited being, would, beforehand, expect
from a very powerful, wise, and benevolent Deity? It must be
strange prejudice to assert the contrary. And from thence I
conclude, that however consistent the world may be, allowing
certain suppositions and conjectures, with the idea of such a
Deity, it can never afford us an inference concerning his
existence. The consistence is not absolutely denied, only the
inference. Conjectures, especially where infinity is excluded
from the Divine attributes, may perhaps be sufficient to prove a
consistence, but can never be foundations for any inference.

     There seem to be four circumstances, on which depend all, or
the greatest part of the ills, that molest sensible creatures;
and it is not impossible but all these circumstances may be
necessary and unavoidable. We know so little beyond common life,
or even of common life, that, with regard to the economy of a
universe, there is no conjecture, however wild, which may not be
just; nor any one, however plausible, which may not be erroneous.
All that belongs to human understanding, in this deep ignorance
and obscurity, is to be sceptical, or at least cautious, and not
to admit of any hypothesis whatever, much less of any which is
supported by no appearance of probability. Now, this I assert to
be the case with regard to all the causes of evil, and the
circumstances on which it depends. None of them appear to human
reason in the least degree necessary or unavoidable; nor can we
suppose them such, without the utmost license of imagination.

     The first circumstance which introduces evil, is that
contrivance or economy of the animal creation, by which pains, as
well as pleasures, are employed to excite all creatures to
action, and make them vigilant in the great work of self-
preservation. Now pleasure alone, in its various degrees, seems
to human understanding sufficient for this purpose. All animals
might be constantly in a state of enjoyment: but when urged by
any of the necessities of nature, such as thirst, hunger,
weariness; instead of pain, they might feel a diminution of
pleasure, by which they might be prompted to seek that object
which is necessary to their subsistence. Men pursue pleasure as
eagerly as they avoid pain; at least they might have been so
constituted. It seems, therefore, plainly possible to carry on
the business of life without any pain. Why then is any animal
ever rendered susceptible of such a sensation? If animals can be
free from it an hour, they might enjoy a perpetual exemption from
it; and it required as particular a contrivance of their organs
to produce that feeling, as to endow them with sight, hearing, or
any of the senses. Shall we conjecture, that such a contrivance
was necessary, without any appearance of reason? and shall we
build on that conjecture as on the most certain truth?

     But a capacity of pain would not alone produce pain, were it
not for the second circumstance, viz. the conducting of the world
by general laws; and this seems nowise necessary to a very
perfect Being. It is true, if everything were conducted by
particular volitions, the course of nature would be perpetually
broken, and no man could employ his reason in the conduct of
life. But might not other particular volitions remedy this
inconvenience? In short, might not the Deity exterminate all ill,
wherever it were to be found; and produce all good, without any
preparation, or long progress of causes and effects?

     Besides, we must consider, that, according to the present
economy of the world, the course of nature, though supposed
exactly regular, yet to us appears not so, and many events are
uncertain, and many disappoint our expectations. Health and
sickness, calm and tempest, with an infinite number of other
accidents, whose causes are unknown and variable, have a great
influence both on the fortunes of particular persons and on the
prosperity of public societies; and indeed all human life, in a
manner, depends on such accidents. A being, therefore, who knows
the secret springs of the universe, might easily, by particular
volitions, turn all these accidents to the good of mankind, and
render the whole world happy, without discovering himself in any
operation. A fleet, whose purposes were salutary to society,
might always meet with a fair wind. Good princes enjoy sound
health and long life. Persons born to power and authority, be
framed with good tempers and virtuous dispositions. A few such
events as these, regularly and wisely conducted, would change the
face of the world; and yet would no more seem to disturb the
course of nature, or confound human conduct, than the present
economy of things, where the causes are secret, and variable, and
compounded. Some small touches given to C/ALIGULA\'s brain in his
infancy, might have converted him into a T/RAJAN\. One wave, a
little higher than the rest, by burying C/AESAR\ and his fortune
in the bottom of the ocean, might have restored liberty to a
considerable part of mankind. There may, for aught we know, be
good reasons why Providence interposes not in this manner; but
they are unknown to us; and though the mere supposition, that
such reasons exist, may be sufficient to save the conclusion
concerning the Divine attributes, yet surely it can never be
sufficient to establish that conclusion.

     If every thing in the universe be conducted by general laws,
and if animals be rendered susceptible of pain, it scarcely seems
possible but some ill must arise in the various shocks of matter,
and the various concurrence and opposition of general laws; but
this ill would be very rare, were it not for the third
circumstance, which I proposed to mention, viz. the great
frugality with which all powers and faculties are distributed to
every particular being. So well adjusted are the organs and
capacities of all animals, and so well fitted to their
preservation, that, as far as history or tradition reaches, there
appears not to be any single species which has yet been
extinguished in the universe. Every animal has the requisite
endowments; but these endowments are bestowed with so scrupulous
an economy, that any considerable diminution must entirely
destroy the creature. Wherever one power is increased, there is a
proportional abatement in the others. Animals which excel in
swiftness are commonly defective in force. Those which possess
both are either imperfect in some of their senses, or are
oppressed with the most craving wants. The human species, whose
chief excellency is reason and sagacity, is of all others the
most necessitous, and the most deficient in bodily advantages;
without clothes, without arms, without food, without lodging,
without any convenience of life, except what they owe to their
own skill and industry. In short, nature seems to have formed an
exact calculation of the necessities of her creatures; and, like
a rigid master, has afforded them little more powers or
endowments than what are strictly sufficient to supply those
necessities. An indulgent parent would have bestowed a large
stock, in order to guard against accidents, and secure the
happiness and welfare of the creature in the most unfortunate
concurrence of circumstances. Every course of life would not have
been so surrounded with precipices, that the least departure from
the true path, by mistake or necessity, must involve us in misery
and ruin. Some reserve, some fund, would have been provided to
ensure happiness; nor would the powers and the necessities have
been adjusted with so rigid an economy. The Author of Nature is
inconceivably powerful: his force is supposed great, if not
altogether inexhaustible: nor is there any reason, as far as we
can judge, to make him observe this strict frugality in his
dealings with his creatures. It would have been better, were his
power extremely limited, to have created fewer animals, and to
have endowed these with more faculties for their happiness and
preservation. A builder is never esteemed prudent, who undertakes
a plan beyond what his stock will enable him to finish.

     In order to cure most of the ills of human life, I require
not that man should have the wings of the eagle, the swiftness of
the stag, the force of the ox, the arms of the lion, the scales
of the crocodile or rhinoceros; much less do I demand the
sagacity of an angel or cherubim. I am contented to take an
increase in one single power or faculty of his soul. Let him be
endowed with a greater propensity to industry and labour; a more
vigorous spring and activity of mind; a more constant bent to
business and application. Let the whole species possess naturally
an equal diligence with that which many individuals are able to
attain by habit and reflection; and the most beneficial
consequences, without any allay of ill, is the immediate and
necessary result of this endowment. Almost all the moral, as well
as natural evils of human life, arise from idleness; and were our
species, by the original constitution of their frame, exempt from
this vice or infirmity, the perfect cultivation of land, the
improvement of arts and manufactures, the exact execution of
every office and duty, immediately follow; and men at once may
fully reach that state of society, which is so imperfectly
attained by the best regulated government. But as industry is a
power, and the most valuable of any, Nature seems determined,
suitably to her usual maxims, to bestow it on men with a very
sparing hand; and rather to punish him severely for his
deficiency in it, than to reward him for his attainments. She has
so contrived his frame, that nothing but the most violent
necessity can oblige him to labour; and she employs all his other
wants to overcome, at least in part, the want of diligence, and
to endow him with some share of a faculty of which she has
thought fit naturally to bereave him. Here our demands may be
allowed very humble, and therefore the more reasonable. If we
required the endowments of superior penetration and judgement, of
a more delicate taste of beauty, of a nicer sensibility to
benevolence and friendship; we might be told, that we impiously
pretend to break the order of Nature; that we want to exalt
ourselves into a higher rank of being; that the presents which we
require, not being suitable to our state and condition, would
only be pernicious to us. But it is hard; I dare to repeat it, it
is hard, that being placed in a world so full of wants and
necessities, where almost every being and element is either our
foe or refuses its assistance ... we should also have our own
temper to struggle with, and should be deprived of that faculty
which can alone fence against these multiplied evils.

     The fourth circumstance, whence arises the misery and ill of
the universe, is the inaccurate workmanship of all the springs
and principles of the great machine of nature. It must be
acknowledged, that there are few parts of the universe, which
seem not to serve some purpose, and whose removal would not
produce a visible defect and disorder in the whole. The parts
hang all together; nor can one be touched without affecting the
rest, in a greater or less degree. But at the same time, it must
be observed, that none of these parts or principles, however
useful, are so accurately adjusted, as to keep precisely within
those bounds in which their utility consists; but they are, all
of them, apt, on every occasion, to run into the one extreme or
the other. One would imagine, that this grand production had not
received the last hand of the maker; so little finished is every
part, and so coarse are the strokes with which it is executed.
Thus, the winds are requisite to convey the vapours along the
surface of the globe, and to assist men in navigation: but how
oft, rising up to tempests and hurricanes, do they become
pernicious? Rains are necessary to nourish all the plants and
animals of the earth: but how often are they defective? how often
excessive? Heat is requisite to all life and vegetation; but is
not always found in the due proportion. On the mixture and
secretion of the humours and juices of the body depend the health
and prosperity of the animal: but the parts perform not regularly
their proper function. What more useful than all the passions of
the mind, ambition, vanity, love, anger? But how oft do they
break their bounds, and cause the greatest convulsions in
society? There is nothing so advantageous in the universe, but
what frequently becomes pernicious, by its excess or defect; nor
has Nature guarded, with the requisite accuracy, against all
disorder or confusion. The irregularity is never perhaps so great
as to destroy any species; but is often sufficient to involve the
individuals in ruin and misery.

     On the concurrence, then, of these four circumstances, does
all or the greatest part of natural evil depend. Were all living
creatures incapable of pain, or were the world administered by
particular volitions, evil never could have found access into the
universe: and were animals endowed with a large stock of powers
and faculties, beyond what strict necessity requires; or were the
several springs and principles of the universe so accurately
framed as to preserve always the just temperament and medium;
there must have been very little ill in comparison of what we
feel at present. What then shall we pronounce on this occasion?
Shall we say that these circumstances are not necessary, and that
they might easily have been altered in the contrivance of the
universe? This decision seems too presumptuous for creatures so
blind and ignorant. Let us be more modest in our conclusions. Let
us allow, that, if the goodness of the Deity (I mean a goodness
like the human) could be established on any tolerable reasons a
priori, these phenomena, however untoward, would not be
sufficient to subvert that principle; but might easily, in some
unknown manner, be reconcilable to it. But let us still assert,
that as this goodness is not antecedently established, but must
be inferred from the phenomena, there can be no grounds for such
an inference, while there are so many ills in the universe, and
while these ills might so easily have been remedied, as far as
human understanding can be allowed to judge on such a subject. I
am Sceptic enough to allow, that the bad appearances,
notwithstanding all my reasonings, may be compatible with such
attributes as you suppose; but surely they can never prove these
attributes. Such a conclusion cannot result from Scepticism, but
must arise from the phenomena, and from our confidence in the
reasonings which we deduce from these phenomena.

     Look round this universe. What an immense profusion of
beings, animated and organised, sensible and active! You admire
this prodigious variety and fecundity. But inspect a little more
narrowly these living existences, the only beings worth
regarding. How hostile and destructive to each other! How
insufficient all of them for their own happiness! How
contemptible or odious to the spectator! The whole presents
nothing but the idea of a blind Nature, impregnated by a great
vivifying principle, and pouring forth from her lap, without
discernment or parental care, her maimed and abortive children!

     Here the M/ANICHAEAN\ system occurs as a proper hypothesis
to solve the difficulty: and no doubt, in some respects, it is
very specious, and has more probability than the common
hypothesis, by giving a plausible account of the strange mixture
of good and ill which appears in life. But if we consider, on the
other hand, the perfect uniformity and agreement of the parts of
the universe, we shall not discover in it any marks of the combat
of a malevolent with a benevolent being. There is indeed an
opposition of pains and pleasures in the feelings of sensible
creatures: but are not all the operations of Nature carried on by
an opposition of principles, of hot and cold, moist and dry,
light and heavy? The true conclusion is, that the original Source
of all things is entirely indifferent to all these principles;
and has no more regard to good above ill, than to heat above
cold, or to drought above moisture, or to light above heavy.

     There may four hypotheses be framed concerning the first
causes of the universe: that they are endowed with perfect
goodness; that they have perfect malice; that they are opposite,
and have both goodness and malice; that they have neither
goodness nor malice. Mixed phenomena can never prove the two
former unmixed principles; and the uniformity and steadiness of
general laws seem to oppose the third. The fourth, therefore,
seems by far the most probable.

     What I have said concerning natural evil will apply to
moral, with little or no variation; and we have no more reason to
infer, that the rectitude of the Supreme Being resembles human
rectitude, than that his benevolence resembles the human. Nay, it
will be thought, that we have still greater cause to exclude from
him moral sentiments, such as we feel them; since moral evil, in
the opinion of many, is much more predominant above moral good
than natural evil above natural good.

     But even though this should not be allowed, and though the
virtue which is in mankind should be acknowledged much superior
to the vice, yet so long as there is any vice at all in the
universe, it will very much puzzle you Anthropomorphites, how to
account for it. You must assign a cause for it, without having
recourse to the first cause. But as every effect must have a
cause, and that cause another, you must either carry on the
progression in infinitum, or rest on that original principle, who
is the ultimate cause of all things....

     Hold! hold! cried D/EMEA\: Whither does your imagination
hurry you? I joined in alliance with you, in order to prove the
incomprehensible nature of the Divine Being, and refute the
principles of C/LEANTHES\, who would measure every thing by human
rule and standard. But I now find you running into all the topics
of the greatest libertines and infidels, and betraying that holy
cause which you seemingly espoused. Are you secretly, then, a
more dangerous enemy than C/LEANTHES\ himself?

     And are you so late in perceiving it? replied C/LEANTHES\.
Believe me, D/EMEA\, your friend P/HILO\, from the beginning, has
been amusing himself at both our expense; and it must be
confessed, that the injudicious reasoning of our vulgar theology
has given him but too just a handle of ridicule. The total
infirmity of human reason, the absolute incomprehensibility of
the Divine Nature, the great and universal misery, and still
greater wickedness of men; these are strange topics, surely, to
be so fondly cherished by orthodox divines and doctors. In ages
of stupidity and ignorance, indeed, these principles may safely
be espoused; and perhaps no views of things are more proper to
promote superstition, than such as encourage the blind amazement,
the diffidence, and melancholy of mankind. But at present....

     Blame not so much, interposed P/HILO\, the ignorance of
these reverend gentlemen. They know how to change their style
with the times. Formerly it was a most popular theological topic
to maintain, that human life was vanity and misery, and to
exaggerate all the ills and pains which are incident to men. But
of late years, divines, we find, begin to retract this position;
and maintain, though still with some hesitation, that there are
more goods than evils, more pleasures than pains, even in this
life. When religion stood entirely upon temper and education, it
was thought proper to encourage melancholy; as indeed mankind
never have recourse to superior powers so readily as in that
disposition. But as men have now learned to form principles, and
to draw consequences, it is necessary to change the batteries,
and to make use of such arguments as will endure at least some
scrutiny and examination. This variation is the same (and from
the same causes) with that which I formerly remarked with regard
to Scepticism.

     Thus P/HILO\ continued to the last his spirit of opposition,
and his censure of established opinions. But I could observe that
D/EMEA\ did not at all relish the latter part of the discourse;
and he took occasion soon after, on some pretence or other, to
leave the company.

                             * * * *

                             PART 12

     After D/EMEA\'s departure, C/LEANTHES\ and P/HILO\ continued
the conversation in the following manner. Our friend, I am
afraid, said C/LEANTHES\, will have little inclination to revive
this topic of discourse, while you are in company; and to tell
truth, P/HILO\, I should rather wish to reason with either of you
apart on a subject so sublime and interesting. Your spirit of
controversy, joined to your abhorrence of vulgar superstition,
carries you strange lengths, when engaged in an argument; and
there is nothing so sacred and venerable, even in your own eyes,
which you spare on that occasion.

     I must confess, replied P/HILO\, that I am less cautious on
the subject of Natural Religion than on any other; both because I
know that I can never, on that head, corrupt the principles of
any man of common sense; and because no one, I am confident, in
whose eyes I appear a man of common sense, will ever mistake my
intentions. You, in particular, C/LEANTHES\, with whom I live in
unreserved intimacy; you are sensible, that notwithstanding the
freedom of my conversation, and my love of singular arguments, no
one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, or pays
more profound adoration to the Divine Being, as he discovers
himself to reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice
of nature. A purpose, an intention, a design, strikes every where
the most careless, the most stupid thinker; and no man can be so
hardened in absurd systems, as at all times to reject it. That
Nature does nothing in vain, is a maxim established in all the
schools, merely from the contemplation of the works of Nature,
without any religious purpose; and, from a firm conviction of its
truth, an anatomist, who had observed a new organ or canal, would
never be satisfied till he had also discovered its use and
intention. One great foundation of the Copernican system is the
maxim, That Nature acts by the simplest methods, and chooses the
most proper means to any end; and astronomers often, without
thinking of it, lay this strong foundation of piety and religion.
The same thing is observable in other parts of philosophy: And
thus all the sciences almost lead us insensibly to acknowledge a
first intelligent Author; and their authority is often so much
the greater, as they do not directly profess that intention.

     It is with pleasure I hear G/ALEN\ reason concerning the
structure of the human body. The anatomy of a man, says he,27
discovers above 600 different muscles; and whoever duly considers
these, will find, that, in each of them, Nature must have
adjusted at least ten different circumstances, in order to attain
the end which she proposed; proper figure, just magnitude, right
disposition of the several ends, upper and lower position of the
whole, the due insertion of the several nerves, veins, and
arteries: So that, in the muscles alone, above 6000 several views
and intentions must have been formed and executed. The bones he
calculates to be 284: The distinct purposes aimed at in the
structure of each, above forty. What a prodigious display of
artifice, even in these simple and homogeneous parts! But if we
consider the skin, ligaments, vessels, glandules, humours, the
several limbs and members of the body; how must our astonishment
rise upon us, in proportion to the number and intricacy of the
parts so artificially adjusted! The further we advance in these
researches, we discover new scenes of art and wisdom: But descry
still, at a distance, further scenes beyond our reach; in the
fine internal structure of the parts, in the economy of the
brain, in the fabric of the seminal vessels. All these artifices
are repeated in every different species of animal, with wonderful
variety, and with exact propriety, suited to the different
intentions of Nature in framing each species. And if the
infidelity of G/ALEN\, even when these natural sciences were
still imperfect, could not withstand such striking appearances,
to what pitch of pertinacious obstinacy must a philosopher in
this age have attained, who can now doubt of a Supreme
Intelligence!

     Could I meet with one of this species (who, I thank God, are
very rare), I would ask him: Supposing there were a God, who did
not discover himself immediately to our senses, were it possible
for him to give stronger proofs of his existence, than what
appear on the whole face of Nature? What indeed could such a
Divine Being do, but copy the present economy of things; render
many of his artifices so plain, that no stupidity could mistake
them; afford glimpses of still greater artifices, which
demonstrate his prodigious superiority above our narrow
apprehensions; and conceal altogether a great many from such
imperfect creatures? Now, according to all rules of just
reasoning, every fact must pass for undisputed, when it is
supported by all the arguments which its nature admits of; even
though these arguments be not, in themselves, very numerous or
forcible: How much more, in the present case, where no human
imagination can compute their number, and no understanding
estimate their cogency!

     I shall further add, said C/LEANTHES\, to what you have so
well urged, that one great advantage of the principle of Theism,
is, that it is the only system of cosmogony which can be rendered
intelligible and complete, and yet can throughout preserve a
strong analogy to what we every day see and experience in the
world. The comparison of the universe to a machine of human
contrivance, is so obvious and natural, and is justified by so
many instances of order and design in Nature, that it must
immediately strike all unprejudiced apprehensions, and procure
universal approbation. Whoever attempts to weaken this theory,
cannot pretend to succeed by establishing in its place any other
that is precise and determinate: It is sufficient for him if he
start doubts and difficulties; and by remote and abstract views
of things, reach that suspense of judgement, which is here the
utmost boundary of his wishes. But, besides that this state of
mind is in itself unsatisfactory, it can never be steadily
maintained against such striking appearances as continually
engage us into the religious hypothesis. A false, absurd system,
human nature, from the force of prejudice, is capable of adhering
to with obstinacy and perseverance: But no system at all, in
opposition to a theory supported by strong and obvious reason, by
natural propensity, and by early education, I think it absolutely
impossible to maintain or defend.

     So little, replied P/HILO\, do I esteem this suspense of
judgement in the present case to be possible, that I am apt to
suspect there enters somewhat of a dispute of words into this
controversy, more than is usually imagined. That the works of
Nature bear a great analogy to the productions of art, is
evident; and according to all the rules of good reasoning, we
ought to infer, if we argue at all concerning them, that their
causes have a proportional analogy. But as there are also
considerable differences, we have reason to suppose a
proportional difference in the causes; and in particular, ought
to attribute a much higher degree of power and energy to the
supreme cause, than any we have ever observed in mankind. Here
then the existence of a D/EITY\ is plainly ascertained by reason:
and if we make it a question, whether, on account of these
analogies, we can properly call him a mind or intelligence,
notwithstanding the vast difference which may reasonably be
supposed between him and human minds; what is this but a mere
verbal controversy? No man can deny the analogies between the
effects: To restrain ourselves from inquiring concerning the
causes is scarcely possible. From this inquiry, the legitimate
conclusion is, that the causes have also an analogy: And if we
are not contented with calling the first and supreme cause a
G/OD\ or D/EITY\, but desire to vary the expression; what can we
call him but /MIND\ or /THOUGHT\, to which he is justly supposed
to bear a considerable resemblance?

     All men of sound reason are disgusted with verbal disputes,
which abound so much in philosophical and theological inquiries;
and it is found, that the only remedy for this abuse must arise
from clear definitions, from the precision of those ideas which
enter into any argument, and from the strict and uniform use of
those terms which are employed. But there is a species of
controversy, which, from the very nature of language and of human
ideas, is involved in perpetual ambiguity, and can never, by any
precaution or any definitions, be able to reach a reasonable
certainty or precision. These are the controversies concerning
the degrees of any quality or circumstance. Men may argue to all
eternity, whether H/ANNIBAL\ be a great, or a very great, or a
superlatively great man, what degree of beauty C/LEOPATRA\
possessed, what epithet of praise L/IVY\ or T/HUCYDIDES\ is
entitled to, without bringing the controversy to any
determination. The disputants may here agree in their sense, and
differ in the terms, or vice versa; yet never be able to define
their terms, so as to enter into each other's meaning: Because
the degrees of these qualities are not, like quantity or number,
susceptible of any exact mensuration,28 which may be the standard
in the controversy. That the dispute concerning Theism is of this
nature, and consequently is merely verbal, or perhaps, if
possible, still more incurably ambiguous, will appear upon the
slightest inquiry. I ask the Theist, if he does not allow, that
there is a great and immeasurable, because incomprehensible
difference between the human and the divine mind: The more pious
he is, the more readily will he assent to the affirmative, and
the more will he be disposed to magnify the difference: He will
even assert, that the difference is of a nature which cannot be
too much magnified. I next turn to the Atheist, who, I assert, is
only nominally so, and can never possibly be in earnest; and I
ask him, whether, from the coherence and apparent sympathy in all
the parts of this world, there be not a certain degree of analogy
among all the operations of Nature, in every situation and in
every age; whether the rotting of a turnip, the generation of an
animal, and the structure of human thought, be not energies that
probably bear some remote analogy to each other: It is impossible
he can deny it: He will readily acknowledge it. Having obtained
this concession, I push him still further in his retreat; and I
ask him, if it be not probable, that the principle which first
arranged, and still maintains order in this universe, bears not
also some remote inconceivable analogy to the other operations of
nature, and, among the rest, to the economy of human mind and
thought. However reluctant, he must give his assent. Where then,
cry I to both these antagonists, is the subject of your dispute?
The Theist allows, that the original intelligence is very
different from human reason: The Atheist allows, that the
original principle of order bears some remote analogy to it. Will
you quarrel, Gentlemen, about the degrees, and enter into a
controversy, which admits not of any precise meaning, nor
consequently of any determination? If you should be so obstinate,
I should not be surprised to find you insensibly change sides;
while the Theist, on the one hand, exaggerates the dissimilarity
between the Supreme Being, and frail, imperfect, variable,
fleeting, and mortal creatures; and the Atheist, on the other,
magnifies the analogy among all the operations of Nature, in
every period, every situation, and every position. Consider then,
where the real point of controversy lies; and if you cannot lay
aside your disputes, endeavour, at least, to cure yourselves of
your animosity.

     And here I must also acknowledge, C/LEANTHES\, that as the
works of Nature have a much greater analogy to the effects of our
art and contrivance, than to those of our benevolence and
justice, we have reason to infer, that the natural attributes of
the Deity have a greater resemblance to those of men, than his
moral have to human virtues. But what is the consequence? Nothing
but this, that the moral qualities of man are more defective in
their kind than his natural abilities. For, as the Supreme Being
is allowed to be absolutely and entirely perfect, whatever
differs most from him, departs the furthest from the supreme
standard of rectitude and perfection.29

     These, C/LEANTHES\, are my unfeigned sentiments on this
subject; and these sentiments, you know, I have ever cherished
and maintained. But in proportion to my veneration for true
religion, is my abhorrence of vulgar superstitions; and I indulge
a peculiar pleasure, I confess, in pushing such principles,
sometimes into absurdity, sometimes into impiety. And you are
sensible, that all bigots, notwithstanding their great aversion
to the latter above the former, are commonly equally guilty of
both.

     My inclination, replied C/LEANTHES\, lies, I own, a contrary
way. Religion, however corrupted, is still better than no
religion at all. The doctrine of a future state is so strong and
necessary a security to morals, that we never ought to abandon or
neglect it. For if finite and temporary rewards and punishments
have so great an effect, as we daily find; how much greater must
be expected from such as are infinite and eternal?

     How happens it then, said P/HILO\, if vulgar superstition be
so salutary to society, that all history abounds so much with
accounts of its pernicious consequences on public affairs?
Factions, civil wars, persecutions, subversions of government,
oppression, slavery; these are the dismal consequences which
always attend its prevalency over the minds of men. If the
religious spirit be ever mentioned in any historical narration,
we are sure to meet afterwards with a detail of the miseries
which attend it. And no period of time can be happier or more
prosperous, than those in which it is never regarded or heard of.

     The reason of this observation, replied C/LEANTHES\, is
obvious. The proper office of religion is to regulate the heart
of men, humanise their conduct, infuse the spirit of temperance,
order, and obedience; and as its operation is silent, and only
enforces the motives of morality and justice, it is in danger of
being overlooked, and confounded with these other motives. When
it distinguishes itself, and acts as a separate principle over
men, it has departed from its proper sphere, and has become only
a cover to faction and ambition.

     And so will all religion, said P/HILO\, except the
philosophical and rational kind. Your reasonings are more easily
eluded than my facts. The inference is not just, because finite
and temporary rewards and punishments have so great influence,
that therefore such as are infinite and eternal must have so much
greater. Consider, I beseech you, the attachment which we have to
present things, and the little concern which we discover for
objects so remote and uncertain. When divines are declaiming
against the common behaviour and conduct of the world, they
always represent this principle as the strongest imaginable
(which indeed it is); and describe almost all human kind as lying
under the influence of it, and sunk into the deepest lethargy and
unconcern about their religious interests. Yet these same
divines, when they refute their speculative antagonists, suppose
the motives of religion to be so powerful, that, without them, it
were impossible for civil society to subsist; nor are they
ashamed of so palpable a contradiction. It is certain, from
experience, that the smallest grain of natural honesty and
benevolence has more effect on men's conduct, than the most
pompous views suggested by theological theories and systems. A
man's natural inclination works incessantly upon him; it is for
ever present to the mind, and mingles itself with every view and
consideration: whereas religious motives, where they act at all,
operate only by starts and bounds; and it is scarcely possible
for them to become altogether habitual to the mind. The force of
the greatest gravity, say the philosophers, is infinitely small,
in comparison of that of the least impulse: yet it is certain,
that the smallest gravity will, in the end, prevail above a great
impulse; because no strokes or blows can be repeated with such
constancy as attraction and gravitation.

     Another advantage of inclination: It engages on its side all
the wit and ingenuity of the mind; and when set in opposition to
religious principles, seeks every method and art of eluding them:
In which it is almost always successful. Who can explain the
heart of man, or account for those strange salvos and excuses,
with which people satisfy themselves, when they follow their
inclinations in opposition to their religious duty? This is well
understood in the world; and none but fools ever repose less
trust in a man, because they hear, that from study and
philosophy, he has entertained some speculative doubts with
regard to theological subjects. And when we have to do with a
man, who makes a great profession of religion and devotion, has
this any other effect upon several, who pass for prudent, than to
put them on their guard, lest they be cheated and deceived by
him?

     We must further consider, that philosophers, who cultivate
reason and reflection, stand less in need of such motives to keep
them under the restraint of morals; and that the vulgar, who
alone may need them, are utterly incapable of so pure a religion
as represents the Deity to be pleased with nothing but virtue in
human behaviour. The recommendations to the Divinity are
generally supposed to be either frivolous observances, or
rapturous ecstasies, or a bigoted credulity. We need not run back
into antiquity, or wander into remote regions, to find instances
of this degeneracy. Amongst ourselves, some have been guilty of
that atrociousness, unknown to the Egyptian and Grecian
superstitions, of declaiming in express terms, against morality;
and representing it as a sure forfeiture of the Divine favour, if
the least trust or reliance be laid upon it.

     But even though superstition or enthusiasm should not put
itself in direct opposition to morality; the very diverting of
the attention, the raising up a new and frivolous species of
merit, the preposterous distribution which it makes of praise and
blame, must have the most pernicious consequences, and weaken
extremely men's attachment to the natural motives of justice and
humanity.

     Such a principle of action likewise, not being any of the
familiar motives of human conduct, acts only by intervals on the
temper; and must be roused by continual efforts, in order to
render the pious zealot satisfied with his own conduct, and make
him fulfil his devotional task. Many religious exercises are
entered into with seeming fervour, where the heart, at the time,
feels cold and languid: A habit of dissimulation is by degrees
contracted; and fraud and falsehood become the predominant
principle. Hence the reason of that vulgar observation, that the
highest zeal in religion and the deepest hypocrisy, so far from
being inconsistent, are often or commonly united in the same
individual character.

     The bad effects of such habits, even in common life, are
easily imagined; but where the interests of religion are
concerned, no morality can be forcible enough to bind the
enthusiastic zealot. The sacredness of the cause sanctifies every
measure which can be made use of to promote it.

     The steady attention alone to so important an interest as
that of eternal salvation, is apt to extinguish the benevolent
affections, and beget a narrow, contracted selfishness. And when
such a temper is encouraged, it easily eludes all the general
precepts of charity and benevolence.

     Thus, the motives of vulgar superstition have no great
influence on general conduct; nor is their operation favourable
to morality, in the instances where they predominate.

     Is there any maxim in politics more certain and infallible,
than that both the number and authority of priests should be
confined within very narrow limits; and that the civil magistrate
ought, for ever, to keep his fasces30 and axes from such
dangerous hands? But if the spirit of popular religion were so
salutary to society, a contrary maxim ought to prevail. The
greater number of priests, and their greater authority and
riches, will always augment the religious spirit. And though the
priests have the guidance of this spirit, why may we not expect a
superior sanctity of life, and greater benevolence and
moderation, from persons who are set apart for religion, who are
continually inculcating it upon others, and who must themselves
imbibe a greater share of it? Whence comes it then, that, in
fact, the utmost a wise magistrate can propose with regard to
popular religions, is, as far as possible, to make a saving game
of it, and to prevent their pernicious consequences with regard
to society? Every expedient which he tries for so humble a
purpose is surrounded with inconveniences. If he admits only one
religion among his subjects, he must sacrifice, to an uncertain
prospect of tranquillity, every consideration of public liberty,
science, reason, industry, and even his own independency. If he
gives indulgence to several sects, which is the wiser maxim, he
must preserve a very philosophical indifference to all of them,
and carefully restrain the pretensions of the prevailing sect;
otherwise he can expect nothing but endless disputes, quarrels,
factions, persecutions, and civil commotions.

     True religion, I allow, has no such pernicious consequences:
but we must treat of religion, as it has commonly been found in
the world; nor have I any thing to do with that speculative tenet
of Theism, which, as it is a species of philosophy, must partake
of the beneficial influence of that principle, and at the same
time must lie under a like inconvenience, of being always
confined to very few persons.

     Oaths are requisite in all courts of judicature; but it is a
question whether their authority arises from any popular
religion. It is the solemnity and importance of the occasion, the
regard to reputation, and the reflecting on the general interests
of society, which are the chief restraints upon mankind. Custom-
house oaths and political oaths are but little regarded even by
some who pretend to principles of honesty and religion; and a
Quaker's asseveration is with us justly put upon the same footing
with the oath of any other person. I know, that P/OLYBIUS\31
ascribes the infamy of G/REEK\ faith to the prevalency of the
E/PICUREAN\ philosophy: but I know also, that Punic faith had as
bad a reputation in ancient times as Irish evidence has in
modern; though we cannot account for these vulgar observations by
the same reason. Not to mention that Greek faith was infamous
before the rise of the Epicurean philosophy; and E/URIPIDES\,32
in a passage which I shall point out to you, has glanced a
remarkable stroke of satire against his nation, with regard to
this circumstance.

     Take care, P/HILO\, replied C/LEANTHES\, take care: push not
matters too far: allow not your zeal against false religion to
undermine your veneration for the true. Forfeit not this
principle, the chief, the only great comfort in life; and our
principal support amidst all the attacks of adverse fortune. The
most agreeable reflection, which it is possible for human
imagination to suggest, is that of genuine Theism, which
represents us as the workmanship of a Being perfectly good, wise,
and powerful; who created us for happiness; and who, having
implanted in us immeasurable desires of good, will prolong our
existence to all eternity, and will transfer us into an infinite
variety of scenes, in order to satisfy those desires, and render
our felicity complete and durable. Next to such a Being himself
(if the comparison be allowed), the happiest lot which we can
imagine, is that of being under his guardianship and protection.

     These appearances, said P/HILO\, are most engaging and
alluring; and with regard to the true philosopher, they are more
than appearances. But it happens here, as in the former case,
that, with regard to the greater part of mankind, the appearances
are deceitful, and that the terrors of religion commonly prevail
above its comforts.

     It is allowed, that men never have recourse to devotion so
readily as when dejected with grief or depressed with sickness.
Is not this a proof, that the religious spirit is not so nearly
allied to joy as to sorrow?

     But men, when afflicted, find consolation in religion,
replied C/LEANTHES\. Sometimes, said P/HILO\: but it is natural
to imagine, that they will form a notion of those unknown beings,
suitably to the present gloom and melancholy of their temper,
when they betake themselves to the contemplation of them.
Accordingly, we find the tremendous images to predominate in all
religions; and we ourselves, after having employed the most
exalted expression in our descriptions of the Deity, fall into
the flattest contradiction in affirming that the damned are
infinitely superior in number to the elect.

     I shall venture to affirm, that there never was a popular
religion, which represented the state of departed souls in such a
light, as would render it eligible for human kind that there
should be such a state. These fine models of religion are the
mere product of philosophy. For as death lies between the eye and
the prospect of futurity, that event is so shocking to Nature,
that it must throw a gloom on all the regions which lie beyond
it; and suggest to the generality of mankind the idea of
C/ERBERUS\ and F/URIES\; devils, and torrents of fire and
brimstone.

     It is true, both fear and hope enter into religion; because
both these passions, at different times, agitate the human mind,
and each of them forms a species of divinity suitable to itself.
But when a man is in a cheerful disposition, he is fit for
business, or company, or entertainment of any kind; and he
naturally applies himself to these, and thinks not of religion.
When melancholy and dejected, he has nothing to do but brood upon
the terrors of the invisible world, and to plunge himself still
deeper in affliction. It may indeed happen, that after he has, in
this manner, engraved the religious opinions deep into his
thought and imagination, there may arrive a change of health or
circumstances, which may restore his good humour, and raising
cheerful prospects of futurity, make him run into the other
extreme of joy and triumph. But still it must be acknowledged,
that, as terror is the primary principle of religion, it is the
passion which always predominates in it, and admits but of short
intervals of pleasure.

     Not to mention, that these fits of excessive, enthusiastic
joy, by exhausting the spirits, always prepare the way for equal
fits of superstitious terror and dejection; nor is there any
state of mind so happy as the calm and equable. But this state it
is impossible to support, where a man thinks that he lies in such
profound darkness and uncertainty, between an eternity of
happiness and an eternity of misery. No wonder that such an
opinion disjoints the ordinary frame of the mind, and throws it
into the utmost confusion. And though that opinion is seldom so
steady in its operation as to influence all the actions; yet it
is apt to make a considerable breach in the temper, and to
produce that gloom and melancholy so remarkable in all devout
people.

     It is contrary to common sense to entertain apprehensions or
terrors upon account of any opinion whatsoever, or to imagine
that we run any risk hereafter, by the freest use of our reason.
Such a sentiment implies both an absurdity and an inconsistency.
It is an absurdity to believe that the Deity has human passions,
and one of the lowest of human passions, a restless appetite for
applause. It is an inconsistency to believe, that, since the
Deity has this human passion, he has not others also; and, in
particular, a disregard to the opinions of creatures so much
inferior.

     To know God, says S/ENECA\, is to worship him. All other
worship is indeed absurd, superstitious, and even impious. It
degrades him to the low condition of mankind, who are delighted
with entreaty, solicitation, presents, and flattery. Yet is this
impiety the smallest of which superstition is guilty. Commonly,
it depresses the Deity far below the condition of mankind; and
represents him as a capricious D/EMON\, who exercises his power
without reason and without humanity! And were that Divine Being
disposed to be offended at the vices and follies of silly
mortals, who are his own workmanship, ill would it surely fare
with the votaries of most popular superstitions. Nor would any of
human race merit his favour, but a very few, the philosophical
Theists, who entertain, or rather indeed endeavour to entertain,
suitable notions of his Divine perfections: As the only persons
entitled to his compassion and indulgence would be the
philosophical Sceptics, a sect almost equally rare, who, from a
natural diffidence of their own capacity, suspend, or endeavour
to suspend, all judgement with regard to such sublime and such
extraordinary subjects.

     If the whole of Natural Theology, as some people seem to
maintain, resolves itself into one simple, though somewhat
ambiguous, at least undefined proposition, That the cause or
causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy
to human intelligence: If this proposition be not capable of
extension, variation, or more particular explication: If it
affords no inference that affects human life, or can be the
source of any action or forbearance: And if the analogy,
imperfect as it is, can be carried no further than to the human
intelligence, and cannot be transferred, with any appearance of
probability, to the other qualities of the mind; if this really
be the case, what can the most inquisitive, contemplative, and
religious man do more than give a plain, philosophical assent to
the proposition, as often as it occurs, and believe that the
arguments on which it is established exceed the objections which
lie against it? Some astonishment, indeed, will naturally arise
from the greatness of the object; some melancholy from its
obscurity; some contempt of human reason, that it can give no
solution more satisfactory with regard to so extraordinary and
magnificent a question. But believe me, C/LEANTHES\, the most
natural sentiment which a well-disposed mind will feel on this
occasion, is a longing desire and expectation that Heaven would
be pleased to dissipate, at least alleviate, this profound
ignorance, by affording some more particular revelation to
mankind, and making discoveries of the nature, attributes, and
operations of the Divine object of our faith. A person, seasoned
with a just sense of the imperfections of natural reason, will
fly to revealed truth with the greatest avidity: While the
haughty Dogmatist, persuaded that he can erect a complete system
of Theology by the mere help of philosophy, disdains any further
aid, and rejects this adventitious instructor. To be a
philosophical Sceptic is, in a man of letters, the first and most
essential step towards being a sound, believing Christian; a
proposition which I would willingly recommend to the attention of
P/AMPHILUS\: And I hope C/LEANTHES\ will forgive me for
interposing so far in the education and instruction of his pupil.

     C/LEANTHES\ and P/HILO\ pursued not this conversation much
further: and as nothing ever made greater impression on me, than
all the reasonings of that day, so I confess, that, upon a
serious review of the whole, I cannot but think, that P/HILO\'s
principles are more probable than D/EMEA\'s; but that those of
C/LEANTHES\ approach still nearer to the truth.

                                

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2Thomas Hayter, Remarks on Mr. Hume's Dialogues, concerning
natural religion, Cambridge, 1780, T. Cadell.
3Joseph Milner, Gibbon's account of Christianity considered:
together with some strictures on Hume's Dialogues concerning
natural religion, London, 1781, G. Robinson and T. Cadell, pp.
199-221.
4John Ogilvie, Inquiry into the causes of the infidelity and
scepticism of the times, London, 1783, Richardson and Urquhart.
After considering Philo's four hypotheses concerning the causes
of the universe, Ogilvie writes "Philo, the author's sceptical
dialogist, is the speaker upon this occasion. But, as his
opinions are not impugned or confuted by Cleanthes, they appear
to be those of the author" (pp. 68-69). The context of Ogilvie's
other comments on the Dialogues make it clear that Philo speaks
for Hume except when Philo concedes the existence of a creative
Mind.
5Nicholas Capaldi, "Hume's Philosophy of Religion: God Without
Ethics," International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 1970,
Vol. I, pp. 233-240.
6 James O'Higgins, "Hume and the Deists: a Contrast in Religious
Approaches," Journal of Theological Studies, 1971, Vol. 23, pp.
479-501. In Hume's Philosophy of Religion (Atlantic Highlands,
1988),
7 Norman Kemp Smith Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, p. 24.
Kemp Smith bases his view on the conclusions to the "Natural
History" and Dialogues, and Hume's 1743 letter to William Mure.
8 B.A.O. Williams "Hume on Religion," in David Hume A Symposium,
e.d. D.F. Pears, London, 1963, pp. 77-88.
9 Ernest C. Mossner, "The Religion of David Hume," Journal of the
History of Ideas, 1978, Vol. 39, pp. 653-663.
10 Donald Livingston,  "Hume's Conception of True Religion," in
Hume's Philosophy of Religion (Winston-Salem, 1986), pp. 33-73.
11 James Noxon, "In Defence of 'Hume's Agnosticism,'" Journal of
the History of Philosophy, 1976, Vol. 14, p. 470.
12 Chrysippus apud Plut. De repug. Stoicorum. [Chrysippus (c.
280-207 BCE.), as appears in Plutarch's Stoic Inconsistencies,
Ch. 9, 1035 a-b - Ed.]
13 [John Milton, Paradise Lost, Bk. 2. - Ed.]
14 L'art de penser. [Antoine Arnauld (1612-1694), La Logique ou
l'art de penser (The Port Royal Logic, 1662). - Ed.]
15 Mons. Huet. [Peter Daniel Huet (1630-1721), Traite
philosophique de la faiblesse de l'esprit humain (1723) - Ed.]
16 Recherche de la Verite, liv. 3, cap. 9. [Nicholas Melbranche
(1638-1715), The Search after Truth, Bk 3, Ch. 9 - Ed.]
17 [In his letter of March 10, 1751 to Gilbert Eliot, Hume
comments on Cleanthes' argument in this paragraph. "If you'll be
persuaded to assist me in supporting Cleanthes, I fancy you need
not take Matters any higher than Part 3. He allows, indeed, in
Part 2, that all our Inference is founded on the Similitude of
the Works of Nature to the usual Effects of Mind. Otherwise they
must appear a mere Chaos. The only Difficulty is, why the other
Dissimilitudes do not weaken the Argument. And indeed it woud
seem from Experience & Feeling, that they do not weaken it so
much as we might naturally expect. A Theory to solve this woud be
very acceptable."
18 [Cicero, De Natura Deorum, Bk. 1:22 - Ed.]
19 [Senna is a laxitive drug made from various plants. - Ed.]
20 Lib. XI. 1094. [Lucretius (98-55 BCE.) On the Nature of
Things, Bk. 2: "Who can rule the sum, who hold in his hand with
controlling force the strong reins, of the immeasurable deep? Who
can at once make all the different heavens to roll and warm with
ethereal fires all the fruitful earths, or be present in all
places at all times." - Ed.]
21 De Nat. Deor. Lib. 1. [Cicero (106-43 BCE.), De Natura Deorum,
Bk. 1: 8: "For with what eyes of the mind could your Plato have
beheld that workshop of such stupendous toil, in which he
represents the world as having been put together and built by
God? How was so vast an undertaking set about? What tools, what
levers, what machines, what servants were employed in so great a
work? How came air, fire, water, and earth to obey and submit to
the architect's will?"]
22 Dr. Clarke. [Samuel Clarke (1675-1729), A Demonstration of the
Being and Attributes of God. - Ed.]
23 Republique des Lettres, Aout 1685.
24 That sentiment had been maintained by Dr. King, and some few
others, before Leibniz, though by none of so great fame as that
German philosopher.
25 [John Milton (1608-1674), Paradise Lost, Bk. 11. - Ed.]
26 [John Dryden (1631-1700), Aureng-Zebe, Act 4, sc. 1. - Ed.]
27 De Formatione Foetus. [Claudius Galenus (c. 130-200 CE) De
Foetuum Formatione Libelus, Bk. 6. - Ed.]
28 [Mensuration is a branch of geometry dealing with the
measurement of length, area, or volume. - Ed.]
29 It seems evident that the dispute between the Skeptics and
Dogmatists is entirely verbal, or at least regards only the
degrees of doubt and assurance which we ought to indulge with
regard to all reasoning; and such disputes are commonly, at the
bottom, verbal, and admit not of any precise determination. No
philosophical Dogmatist denies that there are difficulties both
with regard to the senses and to all science, and that these
difficulties are in a regular, logical method, absolutely
insolvable. No Skeptic denies that we lie under an absolute
necessity, notwithstanding these difficulties, of thinking, and
believing, and reasoning, with regard to all kinds of subjects,
and even of frequently assenting with confidence and security.
The only difference, then, between these sects, if they merit
that name, is, that the Sceptic, from habit, caprice, or
inclination, insists most on the difficulties; the Dogmatist, for
like reasons, on the necessity.
30 [A fasces is a bundle of rods containing a projecting ax
blade. - Ed.]
31 Lib. vi. cap. 54. [Polybius, (c. 205-123 BCE) The Histories,
Bk. 6, Ch. 54 - Ed.]
32 Iphigenia in Tauride. [Euripides, (c 480-406 BCE), Iphigenia
in Tauris, v. 1200-1205. - Ed.]