PART I
IT might reasonably be expected in questions which have
been canvassed and disputed with great eagerness, since
the first origin of science, and philosophy, that the
meaning of all the terms, at least, should have been agreed
upon among the disputants; and our enquiries, in the course
of two thousand years, been able to pass from words to
the true and real subject of the controversy. For how
easy may it seem to give exact definitions of the terms
employed in reasoning, and make these definitions, not the
mere sound of words, the object of future scrutiny and
examination? But if we consider the matter more narrowly,
we shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From
this circumstance alone, that a controversy has been long
kept on foot, and remains still undecided, we may presume
that there is some ambiguity in the expression, and that the
disputants affix different ideas to the terms employed in the
controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are supposed
to be naturally alike in every individual; otherwise nothing
could be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together;
it were impossible, if men affix the same ideas to their
terms, that they could so long form different opinions of
the same subject; especially when they communicate their
views, and each party turn themselves on all sides, in search
of arguments which may give them the victory over their
antagonists. It is true, if men attempt the discussion of
questions which lie entirely beyond the reach of human
capacity, such as those concerning the origin of worlds, or
the economy of the intellectual system or region of spirits,
they may long beat the air in their fruitless contests, and
never arrive at any determinate conclusion. But if the
question regard any subject of common life and experience,
nothing, one would think, could preserve the dispute so
long undecided but some ambiguous expressions, which
keep the antagonists still at a distance, and hinder them
from grappling with each other.
This has been the case in the long disputed question
concerning liberty and necessity; and to so remarkable
a degree that, if I be not much mistaken, we shall find,
that all mankind, both learned and ignorant, have always
been of the same opinion with regard to this subject, and
that a few intelligible definitions would immediately have
put an end to the whole controversy. I own that this
dispute has been so much canvassed on all hands, and has
led philosophers into such a labyrinth of obscure sophistry,
that it is no wonder, if a sensible reader indulge his ease so
far as to turn a deaf ear to the proposal of such a question,
from which he can expect neither instruction or entertain-
ment. But the state of the argument here proposed may,
perhaps, serve to renew his attention; as it has more
novelty, promises at least some decision of the controversy,
and will not much disturb his ease by any intricate or
obscure reasoning.
I hope, therefore, to make it appear that all men have
ever agreed in the doctrine both of necessity and of liberty,
according to any reasonable sense, which can be put on
these terms; and that the whole controversy, has hitherto
turned merely upon words. We shall begin with examining
the doctrine of necessity.
It is universally allowed that matter, in all its operations,
is actuated by a necessary force, and that every natural
effect is so precisely determined by the energy of its cause
that no other effect, in such particular circumstances, could
possibly have resulted from it. The degree and direction
of every motion is, by the laws of nature, prescribed with
such exactness that a living creature may as soon arise
from the shock of two bodies as motion in any other de-
gree or direction than what is actually produced by it.
Would we, therefore, form a just and precise idea of neces-
sity, we must consider whence that idea arises when we apply
it to the operation of bodies.
It seems evident that, if all the scenes of nature were
continually shifted in such a manner that no two events
bore any resemblance to each other, but every object was
entirely new, without any similitude to whatever had been
seen before, we should never, in that case, have attained
the least idea of necessity, or of a connexion among these
objects. We might say, upon such a supposition, that one
object or event has followed another; not that one was
produced by the other. The relation of cause and effect
must be utterly unknown to mankind. Inference and rea-
soning concerning the operations of nature would, from
that moment, be at an end; and the memory and senses
remain the only canals, by which the knowledge of any
real existence could possibly have access to the mind. Our
idea, therefore, of necessity and causation arises entirely
from the uniformity observable in the operations of nature,
where similar objects are constantly conjoined together,
and the mind is determined by custom to infer the one
from the appearance of the other. These two circum-
stances form the whole of that necessity, which we ascribe
to matter. Beyond the constant conjunction of similar
objects, and the consequent inference from one to the other,
we have no notion of any necessity or connexion.
If it appear, therefore, that all mankind have ever allowed,
without any doubt or hesitation, that these two circum-
stances take place in the voluntary actions of men, and in
the operations of mind; it must follow, that all mankind
have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity, and that they
have hitherto disputed, merely for not understanding each
other.
As to the first circumstance, the constant and regular con-
junction of similar events, we may possibly satisfy ourselves
by the following considerations: It is universally acknowl-
edged that there is a great uniformity among the actions of
men, in all nations and ages, and that human nature remains
still the same, in its principles and operations. The same
motives always produce the same actions: the same events
follow from the same causes. Ambition, avarice, self-love,
vanity, friendship, generosity, public spirit: these passions,
mixed in various degrees, and distributed through society,
have been, from the beginning of the world, and still are,
the source of all the actions and enterprises, which have
ever been observed among mankind. Would you know the
sentiments, inclinations, and course of life of the Greeks
and Romans? Study well the temper and actions of the
French and English: You cannot be much mistaken in trans-
ferring to the former most of the observations which you
have made with regard to the latter. Mankind are so much
the same, in all times and places, that history informs us of
nothing new or strange in this particular. Its chief use is
only to discover the constant and universal principles of
human nature, by showing men in all varieties of circum-
stances and situations, and furnishing us with materials
from which we may form our observations and become ac-
quainted with the regular springs of human action and be-
haviour. These records of wars, intrigues, factions, and
revolutions, are so many collections of experiments, by
which the politician or moral philosopher fixes the prin-
ciples of his science, in the same manner as the physician
or natural philosopher becomes acquainted with the nature
of plants, minerals, and other external objects, by the ex-
periments which he forms concerning them. Nor are the
earth, water, and other elements, examined by Aristotle, and
Hippocrates, more like to those which at present lie under
our observation than the men described by Polybius and
Tacitus are to those who now govern the world.
Should a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us
an account of men, wholly different from any with whom
we were ever acquainted; men, who were entirely divested
of avarice, ambition, or revenge; who knew no pleasure but
friendship, generosity, and public spirit; we should immedi-
ately, from these circumstances, detect the falsehood, and
prove him a liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed
his narration with stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles
and prodigies. And if we would explode any forgery in
history, we cannot make use of a more convincing argu-
ment, than to prove, that the actions ascribed to any person
are directly contrary to the course of nature, and that no
human motives, in such circumstances, could ever induce
him to such a conduct. The veracity of Quintus Curtius
is as much to be suspected, when he describes the super-
natural courage of Alexander, by which he was hurried on
singly to attack multitudes, as when he describes his super-
natural force and activity, by which he was able to resist
them. So readily and universally do we acknowledge a uni-
formity in human motives and actions as well as in the
operations of body.
Hence likewise the benefit of that experience, acquired
by long life and a variety of business and company, in order
to instruct us in the principles of human nature, and regu-
late our future conduct, as well as speculation. By means
of this guide, we mount up to the knowledge of men's in-
clinations and motives, from their actions, expressions, and
even gestures; and again descend to the interpretation of
their actions from our knowledge of their motives and in-
clinations. The general observations treasured up by a
course of experience, give us the clue of human nature, and
teach us to unravel all its intricacies. Pretexts and appear-
ances no longer deceive us. Public declarations pass for the
specious colouring of a cause. And though virtue and
honour be allowed their proper weight and authority, that
perfect disinterestedness, so often pretended to, is never ex-
pected in multitudes and parties; seldom in their leaders;
and scarcely even in individuals of any rank or station. But
were there no uniformity in human actions, and were every
experiment which we could form of this kind irregular and
anomalous, it were impossible to collect any general observa-
tions concerning mankind; and no experience, however ac-
curately digested by reflection, would ever serve to any
purpose. Why is the aged husbandman more skilful in his
calling than the young beginner but because there is a
certain uniformity in the operation of the sun, rain, and
earth towards the production of vegetables; and experience
teaches the old practitioner the rules by which this operation
is governed and directed.
We must not, however, expect that this uniformity of
human actions should be carried to such a length as that all
men, in the same circumstances, will always act precisely in
the same manner, without making any allowance for the
diversity of characters, prejudices, and opinions. Such a
uniformity in every particular, is found in no part of nature.
On the contrary, from observing the variety of conduct in
different men, we are enabled to form a greater variety of
maxims, which still suppose a degree of uniformity and
regularity.
Are the manners of men different in different ages and
countries? We learn thence the great force of custom and
education, which mould the human mind from its infancy
and form it into a fixed and established character. Is the
behaviour and conduct of the one sex very unlike that of
the other? Is it thence we become acquainted with the
different characters which nature has impressed upon the
sexes, and which she preserves with constancy and regu-
larity? Are the actions of the same person much diversified
in the different periods of his life, from infancy to old age?
This affords room for many general observations concerning
the gradual change of our sentiments and inclinations, and
the different maxims which prevail in the different ages of
human creatures. Even the characters, which are peculiar
to each individual, have a uniformity in their influence;
otherwise our acquaintance with the persons and our obser-
vation of their conduct could never teach us their disposi-
tions, or serve to direct our behaviour with regard to them.
I grant it possible to find some actions, which seem to
have no regular connexion with any known motives, and
are exceptions to all the measures of conduct which have
ever been established for the government of men. But
if we would willingly know what judgment should be formed
of such irregular and extraordinary actions, we may con-
sider the sentiments commonly entertained with regard to
those irregular events which appear in the course of nature,
and the operations of external objects. All causes are not
conjoined to their usual effects with like uniformity. An
artificer, who handles only dead matter, may be disappointed
of his aim, as well as the politician, who directs the conduct
of sensible and intelligent agents.
The vulgar, who take things according to their first ap-
pearance, attribute the uncertainty of events to such an
uncertainty in the causes as makes the latter often fail
of their usual influence; though they meet with no impedi-
ment in their operation. But philosophers, observing that,
almost in every part of nature, there is contained a vast
variety of springs and principles, which are hid, by reason
of their minuteness or remoteness, find, that it is at least
possible the contrariety of events may not proceed from any
contingency in the cause, but from the secret operation of
contrary causes. This possibility is converted into cer-
tainty by farther observation, when they remark that, upon
an exact scrutiny, a contrariety of effects always betrays
a contrariety of causes, and proceeds from their mutual
opposition. A peasant can give no better reason for the
stopping of any clock or watch than to say that it does not
commonly go right: But an artist easily perceives that the
same force in the spring or pendulum has always the same
influence on the wheels; but fails of its usual effects, perhaps
by reason of a grain of dust, which puts a stop to the
whole movement. From the observation of several parallel
instances, philosophers form a maxim that the connexion
between all causes and effects is equally necessary, and
that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds
from the secret opposition of contrary causes.
Thus, for instance, in the human body, when the usual
symptoms of health or sickness disappoint our expectation;
when medicines operate not with their wonted powers;
when irregular events follow from any particular cause; the
philosopher and physician are not surprised at the matter,
nor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the necessity and
uniformity of those principles by which the animal economy
is conducted. They know that a human body is a mighty
complicated machine: That many secret powers lurk in it,
which are altogether beyond our comprehension: That to
us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations: And
that therefore the irregular events, which outwardly discover
themselves, can be no proof that the laws of nature are
not observed with the greatest regularity in its internal
operations and government.
The philosopher, if he be consistent, must apply the same
reasoning to the actions and volitions of intelligent agents.
The most irregular and unexpected resolutions of men may
frequently be accounted for by those who know every par-
ticular circumstance of their character and situation. A
person of an obliging disposition gives a peevish answer:
But he has the toothache, or has not dined. A stupid fellow
discovers an uncommon alacrity in his carriage: But he
has met with a sudden piece of good fortune. Or even when
an action, as sometimes happens, cannot be particularly ac-
counted for, either by the person himself or by others; we
know, in general, that the characters of men are, to a certain
degree, inconstant and irregular. This is, in a manner, the
constant character of human nature; though it be appli-
cable, in a more particular manner, to some persons who
have no fixed rule for their conduct, but proceed in a con-
tinued course of caprice and inconstancy. The internal
principles and motives may operate in a uniform manner,
notwithstanding these seeming irregularities; in the same
manner as the winds, rain, cloud, and other variations of
the weather are supposed to be governed by steady prin-
ciples; though not easily discoverable by human sagacity
and enquiry.
Thus it appears, not only that the conjunction between
motives and voluntary actions is as regular and uniform
as that between the cause and effect in any part of nature;
but also that this regular conjunction has been universally
acknowledged among mankind, and has never been the
subject of dispute, either in philosophy or common life.
Now, as it is from past experience that we draw all infer-
ences concerning the future, and as we conclude that objects
will always be conjoined together which we find to have
always been conjoined; it may seem superfluous to prove
that this experienced uniformity in human actions is a source
whence we draw inferences concerning them. But in order
to throw the argument into a greater variety of lights we
shall also insist, though briefly, on this latter topic.
The mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies
that scarce any human action is entirely complete in itself,
or is performed without some reference to the actions of
others, which are requisite to make it answer fully the in-
tention of the agent. The poorest artificer, who labours
alone, expects at least the protection of the magistrate, to
ensure him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour. He
also expects that, when he carries his goods to market, and
offers them at a reasonable price, he shall find purchasers,
and shall be able, by the money he acquires, to engage others
to supply him with those commodities which are requisite
for his subsistence. In proportion as men extend their deal-
ings, and render their intercourse with others more com-
plicated, they always comprehend, in their schemes of life,
a greater variety of voluntary actions, which they expect,
from the proper motives, to co-operate with their own. In
all these conclusions they take their measures from past ex-
perience, in the same manner as in their reasonings con-
cerning external objects; and firmly believe that men, as
well as all the elements, are to continue, in their operations,
the same that they have ever found them. A manufacturer
reckons upon the labour of his servants for the execution of
any work as much as upon the tools which he employs,
and would be equally surprised were his expectations dis-
appointed. In short, this experimental inference and rea-
soning concerning the actions of others enters so much into
human life that no man, while awake, is ever a moment
without employing it. Have we not reason, therefore, to
affirm that all mankind have always agreed in the doctrine
of necessity according to the foregoing definition and ex-
plication of it?
Nor have philosophers even entertained a different
opinion from the people in this particular. For, not to men-
tion that almost every action of their life supposes that
opinion, there are even few of the speculative parts of learn-
ing to which it is not essential. What would become of
history, had we not a dependence on the veracity of the
historian according to the experience which we have had of
mankind? How could politics be a science, if laws and
forms of government had not a uniform influence upon
society? Where would be the foundation of morals, if par-
ticular characters had no certain or determinate power to
produce particular sentiments, and if these sentiments had
no constant operation on actions? And with what pretence
could we employ our criticism upon any poet or polite author,
if we could not pronounce the conduct and sentiments of
his actors either natural or unnatural to such characters,
and in such circumstances? It seems almost impossible,
therefore, to engage either in science or action of any kind
without acknowledging the doctrine of necessity, and this
inference from motive to voluntary actions, from characters
to conduct.
And indeed, when we consider how aptly natural and
moral evidence link together, and form only one chain of
argument, we shall make no scruple to allow that they are
of the same nature, and derived from the same principles.
A prisoner who has neither money nor interest, discovers
the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers
the obstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with
which he is surrounded; and, in all attempts for his freedom,
chooses rather to work upon the stone and iron of the one,
than upon the inflexible nature of the other. The same
prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, foresees his death
as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards, as
from the operation of the axe or wheel. His mind runs
along a certain train of ideas: the refusal of the soldiers
to consent to his escape; the action of the executioner;
the separation of the head and body; bleeding, convulsive
motions, and death. Here is a connected chain of natural
causes and voluntary actions; but the mind feels no differ-
ence between them in passing from one link to another:
Nor is it less certain of the future event than if it were con-
nected with the objects present to the memory or senses, by
a train of causes, cemented together by what we are pleased
to call a physical necessity. The same experienced union
has the same effect on the mind, whether the united objects
be motives, volition, and actions; or figure and motion. We
may change the name of things; but their nature and their
operation on the understanding never change.
Were a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent,
and with whom I live in intimate friendship, to come into
my house, where I am surrounded with my servants, I rest
assured that he is not to stab me before he leaves it in
order to rob me of my silver standish; and I no more
suspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which
is new, and solidly built and founded.--But he may have
been seized with a sudden and unknown frenzy.--So may
a sudden earthquake arise, and shake and tumble my house
about my ears. I shall therefore change the suppositions.
I shall say that I know with certainty that he is not to put
his hand into the fire and hold it there till it be consumed:
and this event, I think I can foretell with the same assurance,
as that, if he throw himself out at the window, and meet
with no obstruction, he will not remain a moment suspended
in the air. No suspicion of an unknown frenzy can give
the least possibility to the former event, which is so con-
trary to all the known principles of human nature. A man
who at noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement
at Charing-Cross, may as well expect that it will fly away
like a feather, as that he will find it untouched an hour after.
Above one half of human reasonings contain inferences of
a similar nature, attended with more or less degrees of cer-
tainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct
of mankind in such particular situations.
I have frequently considered, what could possibly be the
reason why all mankind, though they have ever, without
hesitation, acknowledged the doctrine of necessity in their
whole practice and reasoning, have yet discovered such
a reluctance to acknowledge it in words, and have rather
shown a propensity, in all ages, to profess the contrary
opinion. The matter, I think, may be accounted for after
the following manner. If we examine the operations of
body, and the production of effects from their causes, we
shall find that all our faculties can never carry us farther in
our knowledge of this relation than barely to observe that
particular objects are constantly conjoined together, and
that the mind is carried, by a customary transition, from the
appearance of one to the belief of the other. But though
this conclusion concerning human ignorance be the result
of the strictest scrutiny of this subject, men still entertain
a strong propensity to believe that they penetrate farther
into the powers of nature, and perceive something like
a necessary connexion between the cause and the effect.
When again they turn their reflections towards the opera-
tions of their own minds, and feel no such connexion of the
motive and the action; they are thence apt to suppose, that
there is a difference between the effects which result from
material force, and those which arise from thought and
intelligence. But being once convinced that we know
nothing farther of causation of any kind than merely the
constant conjunction of objects, and the consequent inference
of the mind from one to another, and finding that these
two circumstances are universally allowed to have place in
voluntary actions; we may be more easily led to own the
same necessity common to all causes. And though this
reasoning may contradict the systems of many philosophers,
in ascribing necessity to the determinations of the will, we
shall find, upon reflection, that they dissent from it in words
only, not in their real sentiment. Necessity, according to the
sense in which it is here taken, has never yet been rejected,
nor can ever, I think, be rejected by any philosopher. It
may only, perhaps, be pretended that the mind can per-
ceive, in the operations of matter, some farther connexion
between the cause and effect; and connexion that has not
place in voluntary actions of intelligent beings. Now
whether it be so or not, can only appear upon examination;
and it is incumbent on these philosophers to make good
their assertion, by defining or describing that necessity, and
pointing it out to us in the operations of material causes.
It would seem, indeed, that men begin at the wrong end
of this question concerning liberty and necessity, when
they enter upon it by examining the faculties of the soul,
the influence of the understanding, and the operations of
the will. Let them first discuss a more simple question,
namely, the operations of body and of brute unintelligent
matter; and try whether they can there form any idea of
causation and necessity, except that of a constant conjunc-
tion of objects, and subsequent inference of the mind from
one to another. If these circumstances form, in reality, the
whole of that necessity, which we conceive in matter, and
if these circumstances be also universally acknowledged to
take place in the operations of the mind, the dispute is at
an end; at least, must be owned to be thenceforth merely
verbal. But as long as we will rashly suppose, that we have
some farther idea of necessity and causation in the opera-
tions of external objects; at the same time, that we can find
nothing farther in the voluntary actions of the mind; there
is no possibility of bringing the question to any determinate
issue, while we proceed upon so erroneous a supposition.
The only method of undeceiving us is to mount up higher;
to examine the narrow extent of science when applied to
material causes; and to convince ourselves that all we
know of them is the constant conjunction and inference
above mentioned. We may, perhaps, find that it is with dif-
ficulty we are induced to fix such narrow limits to human
understanding: but we can afterwards find no difficulty
when we come to apply this doctrine to the actions of the
will. For as it is evident that these have a regular con-
junction with motives and circumstances and characters, and
as we always draw inferences from one to the other, we
must be obliged to acknowledge in words that necessity,
which we have already avowed, in every deliberation of our
lives, and in every step of our conduct and behaviour.[1]
But to proceed in this reconciling project with regard to
the question of liberty and necessity; the most contentious
question of metaphysics, the most contentious science; it
will not require many words to prove, that all mankind
have ever agreed in the doctrine of liberty as well as in that
of necessity, and that the whole dispute, in this respect also,
has been hitherto merely verbal. For what is meant by
liberty, when applied to voluntary actions? We cannot
surely mean that actions have so little connexion with
motives, inclinations, and circumstances, that one does not
follow with a certain degree of uniformity from the other,
and that one affords no inference by which we can conclude
the existence of the other. For these are plain and acknowl-
edged matters of fact. By liberty, then, we can only mean
a power of acting or not acting, according to the determin-
ations of the will; this is, if we choose to remain at rest,
we may; if we choose to move, we also may. Now this
hypothetical liberty is universally allowed to belong to every
one who is not a prisoner and in chains. Here, then, is no
subject of dispute.
Whatever definition we may give of liberty, we should be
careful to observe two requisite circumstances; First, that
it be consistent with plain matter of fact; secondly, that
it be consistent with itself. If we observe these circum-
stances, and render our definition intelligible, I am per-
suaded that all mankind will be found of one opinion with
regard to it.
It is universally allowed that nothing exists without a
cause of its existence, and that chance, when strictly ex-
amined, is a mere negative word, and means not any real
power which has anywhere a being in nature. But it is
pretended that some causes are necessary, some not neces-
sary. Here then is the advantage of definitions. Let any
one define a cause, without comprehending, as a part of the
definition, a necessary connexion with its effect; and let him
show distinctly the origin of the idea, expressed by the
definition; and I shall readily give up the whole con-
troversy. But if the foregoing explication of the matter
be received, this must be absolutely impracticable. Had
not objects a regular conjunction with each other, we
should never have entertained any notion of cause and
effect; and this regular conjunction produces that inference
of the understanding, which is the only connexion, that we
can have any comprehension of. Whoever attempts a defi-
nition of cause, exclusive of these circumstances, will be
obliged either to employ unintelligible terms or such as
are synonymous to the term which he endeavours to define.[2]
And if the definition above mentioned be admitted; liberty,
when opposed to necessity, not to constraint, is the same
thing with chance; which is universally allowed to have no
existence.
PART II
THERE is no method of reasoning more common, and
yet none more blameable, than, in philosophical disputes,
to endeavour the refutation of any hypothesis, by a pre-
tence of its dangerous consequences to religion and mor-
ality. When any opinion leads to absurdities, it is cer-
tainly false; but it is not certain that an opinion is false,
because it is of dangerous consequence. Such topics, there-
fore, ought entirely to be forborne; as serving nothing to
the discovery of truth, but only to make the person of an
antagonist odious. This I observe in general, without pre-
tending to draw any advantage from it. I frankly submit
to an examination of this kind, and shall venture to affirm
that the doctrines, both of necessity and of liberty, as above
explained, are not only consistent with morality, but are
absolutely essential to its support.
Necessity may be defined two ways, conformably to the
two definitions of cause, of which it makes an essential part.
It consists either in the constant conjunction of like objects,
or in the inference of the understanding from one object
to another. Now necessity, in both these senses, (which,
indeed, are at bottom the same) has universally, though
tacitly, in the schools, in the pulpit, and in common life,
been allowed to belong to the will of man; and no one
has ever pretended to deny that we can draw inferences
concerning human actions, and that those inferences are
founded on the experienced union of like actions, with like
motives, inclinations, and circumstances. The only par-
ticular in which any one can differ, is, that either, perhaps,
he will refuse to give the name of necessity to this property
of human actions: but as long as the meaning is understood,
I hope the word can do no harm: or that he will maintain
it possible to discover something farther in the operations
of matter. But this, it must be acknowledged, can be of
no consequence to morality or religion, whatever it may be
to natural philosophy or metaphysics. We may here be
mistaken in asserting that there is no idea of any other
necessity or connexion in the actions of body: But surely
we ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind, but what
everyone does, and must readily allow of. We change no
circumstance in the received orthodox system with regard
to the will, but only in that with regard to material objects
and causes. Nothing, therefore, can be more innocent, at
least, than this doctrine.
All laws being founded on rewards and punishments, it
is supposed as a fundamental principle, that these motives
have a regular and uniform influence on the mind, and
both produce the good and prevent the evil actions. We
may give to this influence what name we please; but, as it
is usually conjoined with the action, it must be esteemed
a cause, and be looked upon as an instance of that necessity,
which we would here establish.
The only proper object of hatred or vengeance is a
person or creature, endowed with thought and conscious-
ness; and when any criminal or injurious actions excite
that passion, it is only by their relation to the person, or
connexion with him. Actions are, by their very nature,
temporary and perishing; and where they proceed not
from some cause in the character and disposition of the
person who performed them, they can neither redound to
his honour, if good; nor infamy, if evil. The actions
themselves may be blameable; they may be contrary to all
the rules of morality and religion: but the person is not
answerable for them; and as they proceeded from nothing
in him that is durable and constant, and leave nothing of
that nature behind them, it is impossible he can, upon their
account, become the object of punishment or vengeance.
According to the principle, therefore, which denies necessity,
and consequently causes, a man is as pure and untainted,
after having committed the most horrid crime, as at the
first moment of his birth, nor is his character anywise
concerned in his actions, since they are not derived from
it, and the wickedness of the one can never be used as
a proof of the depravity of the other.
Men are not blamed for such actions as they perform
ignorantly and casually, whatever may be the consequences.
Why? but because the principles of these actions are only
momentary, and terminate in them alone. Men are less
blamed for such actions as they perform hastily and unpre-
meditatedly than for such as proceed from deliberation. For
what reason? but because a hasty temper, though a constant
cause or principle in the mind, operates only by intervals,
and infects not the whole character. Again, repentance
wipes off every crime, if attended with a reformation of life
and manners. How is this to be accounted for? but by
asserting that actions render a person criminal merely as
they are proofs of criminal principles in the mind; and
when, by an alteration of these principles, they cease to
be just proofs, they likewise cease to be criminal. But,
except upon the doctrine of necessity, they never were just
proofs, and consequently never were criminal.
It will be equally easy to prove, and from the same
arguments, that liberty, according to that definition above
mentioned, in which all men agree, is also essential to
morality, and that no human actions, where it is wanting,
are susceptible of any moral qualities, or can be the objects
either of approbation or dislike. For as actions are objects
of our moral sentiment, so far only as they are indications
of the internal character, passions, and affections; it is
impossible that they can give rise either to praise or blame,
where they proceed not from these principles, but are
derived altogether from external violence.
I pretend not to have obviated or removed all objections
to this theory, with regard to necessity and liberty. I can
foresee other objections, derived from topics which have
not here been treated of. It may be said, for instance,
that, if voluntary actions be subjected to the same laws of
necessity with the operations of matter, there is a continued
chain of necessary causes, pre-ordained and pre-determined,
reaching from the original cause of all to every single
volition of every human creature. No contingency any-
where in the universe; no indifference; no liberty. While
we act, we are, at the same time, acted upon. The ulti-
mate Author of all our volitions is the Creator of the
world, who first bestowed motion on this immense machine,
and placed all beings in that particular position, whence
every subsequent event, by an inevitable necessity, must
result. Human actions, therefore, either can have no moral
turpitude at all, as proceeding from so good a cause; or
if they have any turpitude, they must involve our Creator
in the same guilt, while he is acknowledged to be their
ultimate cause and author. For as a man, who fired a mine,
is answerable for all the consequences whether the train he
employed be long or short; so wherever a continued chain
of necessary causes is fixed, that Being, either finite or
infinite, who produces the first, is likewise the author of all
the rest, and must both bear the blame and acquire the
praise which belong to them. Our clear and unalterable
ideas of morality establish this rule, upon unquestionable
reasons, when we examine the consequences of any human
action; and these reasons must still have greater force
when applied to the volitions and intentions of a Being
infinitely wise and powerful. Ignorance or impotence may
be pleaded for so limited a creature as man; but those
imperfections have no place in our Creator. He foresaw,
he ordained, he intended all those actions of men, which
we so rashly pronounce criminal. And we must there-
fore conclude, either that they are not criminal, or that
the Deity, not man, is accountable for them. But as either
of these positions is absurd and impious, it follows, that
the doctrine from which they are deduced cannot possibly
be true, as being liable to all the same objections. An absurd
consequence, if necessary, proves the original doctrine to be
absurd; in the same manner as criminal actions render crimi-
nal the original cause, if the connexion between them be
necessary and inevitable.
This objection consists of two parts, which we shall
examine separately; First, that, if human actions can be
traced up, by a necessary chain, to the Deity, they can never
be criminal; on account of the infinite perfection of that
Being from whom they are derived, and who can intend
nothing but what is altogether good and laudable. Or,
Secondly, if they be criminal, we must retract the attribute
of perfection, which we ascribe to the Deity, and must
acknowledge him to be the ultimate author of guilt and
moral turpitude in all his creatures.
The answer to the first objection seems obvious and con-
vincing. There are many philosophers who, after an exact
scrutiny of all the phenomena of nature, conclude, that
the WHOLE, considered as one system, is, in every period of
its existence, ordered with perfect benevolence; and that
the utmost possible happiness will, in the end, result to all
created beings, without any mixture of positive or absolute
ill or misery. Every physical ill, say they, makes an essen-
tial part of this benevolent system, and could not possibly
be removed, even by the Deity himself, considered as a
wise agent, without giving entrance to greater ill, or ex-
cluding greater good, which will result from it. From this
theory, some philosophers, and the ancient Stoics among
the rest, derived a topic of consolation under all afflictions,
while they taught their pupils that those ills under which
they laboured were, in reality, goods to the universe; and
that to an enlarged view, which could comprehend the
whole system of nature, every event became an object of
joy and exultation. But though this topic be specious and
sublime, it was soon found in practice weak and inef-
fectual. You would surely more irritate than appease a
man lying under the racking pains of the gout by preaching
up to him the rectitude of those general laws, which pro-
duced the malignant humours in his body, and led them
through the proper canals, to the sinews and nerves, where
they now excite such acute torments. These enlarged
views may, for a moment, please the imagination of a
speculative man, who is placed in ease and security; but
neither can they dwell with constancy on his mind, even
though undisturbed by the emotions of pain or passion;
much less can they maintain their ground when attacked
by such powerful antagonists. The affections take a nar-
rower and more natural survey of their object; and by an
economy, more suitable to the infirmity of human minds,
regard alone the beings around us, and are actuated by
such events as appear good or ill to the private system.
The case is the same with moral as with physical ill. It
cannot reasonably be supposed, that those remote consid-
erations, which are found of so little efficacy with regard
to one, will have a more powerful influence with regard
to the other. The mind of man is so formed by nature
that, upon the appearance of certain characters, dispositions,
and actions, it immediately feels the sentiment of appro-
bation or blame; nor are there any emotions more essential
to its frame and constitution. The characters which engage
our approbation are chiefly such as contribute to the peace
and security of human society; as the characters which
excite blame are chiefly such as tend to public detriment
and disturbance: whence it may reasonably be presumed,
that the moral sentiments arise, either mediately or im-
mediately, from a reflection of these opposite interests.
What though philosophical meditations establish a different
opinion or conjecture; that everything is right with regard
to the WHOLE, and that the qualities, which disturb society,
are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as suitable to the
primary intention of nature as those which more directly
promote its happiness and welfare? Are such remote and
uncertain speculations able to counterbalance the senti-
ments which arise from the natural and immediate view of
the objects? A man who is robbed of a considerable sum;
does he find his vexation for the loss anywise diminished
by these sublime reflections? Why then should his moral
resentment against the crime be supposed incompatible
with them? Or why should not the acknowledgment of
a real distinction between vice and virtue be reconcileable
to all speculative systems of philosophy, as well as that of
a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity?
Both these distinctions are founded in the natural senti-
ments of the human mind: And these sentiments are not
to be controuled or altered by any philosophical theory or
speculation whatsoever.
The second objection admits not of so easy and satis-
factory an answer; nor is it possible to explain distinctly,
how the Deity can be the mediate cause of all the actions
of men, without being the author of sin and moral turpitude.
These are mysteries, which mere natural and unassisted
reason is very unfit to handle; and whatever system she
embraces, she must find herself involved in inextricable
difficulties, and even contradictions, at every step which she
takes with regard to such subjects. To reconcile the in-
difference and contingency of human actions with prescience;
or to defend absolute decrees, and yet free the Deity from
being the author of sin, has been found hitherto to exceed
all the power of philosophy. Happy, if she be thence
sensible of her temerity, when she pries into these sublime
mysteries; and leaving a scene so full of obscurities and
perplexities, return, with suitable modesty, to her true and
proper province, the examination of common life; where
she will find difficulties enough to employ her enquiries,
without launching into so boundless an ocean of doubt,
uncertainty, and contradiction!
[1] The prevalence of the doctrine of liberty may be accounted for, from
another cause, viz. a false sensation of seeming experience which we have,
or may have, of liberty or indifference, in many of our actions. The necessity
of any action, whether of matter or of mind, is not, properly speaking, a
quality in the agent, but in any thinking or intelligent being, who may con-
sider the action; and it consists chiefly in the determination of his thoughts
to infer the existence of that action from some preceding objects; as liberty,
when opposed to necessity, is nothing but the want of that determination,
and a certain looseness or indifference, which we feel, in passing, or not
passing, from the idea of one object to that of any succeeding one. Now
we may observe, that, though, in reflecting on human actions, we seldom
feel such a looseness, or indifference, but are commonly able to infer them
with considerable certainty from their motives, and from the dispositions
of the agent; yet it frequently happens, that, in performing the actions
themselves, we are sensible of something like it: And as all resembling
objects are readily taken for each other, this has been employed as a
demonstrative and even intuitive proof of human liberty. We feel, that
our actions are subject to our will, on most occasions; and imagine we
feel, that the will itself is subject to nothing, because, when by a denial
of it we are provoked to try, we feel, that it moves easily every way, and
produces an image of itself (or a Velleity, as it is called in the schools)
even on that side, on which it did not settle. This image, or faint motion,
we persuade ourselves, could, at that time, have been compleated into the
thing itself; because, should that be denied, we find, upon a second trial,
that, at present, it can. We consider not, that the fantastical desire of
shewing liberty, is here the motive of our actions. And it seems certain,
that, however we may imagine we feel a liberty within ourselves, a spec-
tator can commonly infer our actions from our motives and character; and
even where he cannot, he concludes in general, that he might, were he
perfectly acquainted with every circumstance of our situation and temper,
and the most secret springs of our complexion and disposition. Now this
is the very essence of necessity, according to the foregoing doctrine.
[2] Thus, if a cause be defined, that which produces any thing, it is easy
to observe, that producing is synonymous to causing. In like manner, if a cause be defined, that by which any thing exists, this is liable to the same
objection. For what is meant by these words, by which? Had it been
said, that a cause is that after which any thing constantly exists; we should
have understood the terms. For this is, indeed, all we know of the mat-
ter. And this constantly forms the very essence of necessity, nor have we
any other idea of it.
SECTION IX
OF THE REASON OF ANIMALS
ALL our reasonings concerning matter of fact are
founded on a species of Analogy, which leads us
to expect from any cause the same events, which
we have observed to result from similar causes. Where
the causes are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect,
and the inference, drawn from it, is regarded as cer-
tain and conclusive: nor does any man ever entertain a
doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will have
weight and cohesion of parts; as in all other instances,
which have ever fallen under his observation. But where
the objects have not so exact a similarity, the analogy is
less perfect, and the inference is less conclusive; though
still it has some force, in proportion to the degree of similar-
ity and resemblance. The anatomical observations, formed
upon one animal, are, by this species of reasoning, extended
to all animals; and it is certain, that when the circulation of
the blood, for instance, is clearly proved to have place in
one creature, as a frog, or fish, it forms a strong presump-
tion, that the same principle has place in all. These ana-
logical observations may be carried farther, even to this
science, of which we are now treating; and any theory, by
which we explain the operations of the understanding, or
the origin and connexion of the passions in man, will
acquire additional authority, if we find, that the same theory
is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all other
animals. We shall make trial of this, with regard to the
hypothesis, by which we have, in the foregoing discourse,
endeavoured to account for all experimental reasonings;
and it is hoped, that this new point of view will serve to
confirm all our former observations.
First, It seems evident, that animals as well as men learn
many things from experience, and infer, that the same events
will always follow from the same causes. By this principle
they become acquainted with the more obvious properties
of external objects, and gradually, from their birth, treasure
up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water, earth, stones,
heights, depths, &c., and of the effects which result from
their operation. The ignorance and inexperience of the
young are here plainly distinguishable from the cunning and
sagacity of the old, who have learned, by long observation,
to avoid what hurt them, and to pursue what gave ease or
pleasure. A horse, that has been accustomed to the field,
becomes acquainted with the proper height which he can
leap, and will never attempt what exceeds his force and
ability. An old greyhound will trust the more fatiguing
part of the chace to the younger, and will place himself so
as to meet the hare in her doubles; nor are the conjectures,
which he forms on this occasion, founded in any thing but
his observation and experience.
This is still more evident from the effects of discipline
and education on animals, who, by the proper application
of rewards and punishments, may be taught any course of
action, and most contrary to their natural instincts and
propensities. Is it not experience, which renders a dog
apprehensive of pain, when you menace him, or lift up the
whip to beat him? Is it not even experience, which makes
him answer to his name, and infer, from such an arbitrary
sound, that you mean him rather than any of his fellows, and
intend to call him, when you pronounce it in a certain
manner, and with a certain tone and accent?
In all these cases, we may observe, that the animal infers
some fact beyond what immediately strikes his senses; and
that this inference is altogether founded on past experience,
while the creature expects from the present object the same
consequences, which it has always found in its observation
to result from similar objects.
Secondly, It is impossible, that this inference of the animal
can be founded on any process of argument or reasoning,
by which he concludes, that like events must follow like
objects, and that the course of nature will always be regular
in its operations. For if there be in reality any arguments
of this nature, they surely lie too abstruse for the observation
of such imperfect understandings; since it may well employ
the utmost care and attention of a philosophic genius to
discover and observe them. Animals, therefore are not
guided in these inferences by reasoning: neither are chil-
dren; neither are the generality of mankind, in their ordi-
nary actions and conclusions: neither are philosophers them-
selves, who, in all the active parts of life, are, in the
main, the same with the vulgar, and are governed by the
same maxims. Nature must have provided some other
principle, of more ready, and more general use and applica-
tion; nor can an operation of such immense consequence in
life, as that of inferring effects from causes, be trusted to
the uncertain process of reasoning and argumentation.
Were this doubtful with regard to men, it seems to admit
of no question with regard to the brute creation; and the
conclusion being once firmly established in the one, we have
a strong presumption, from all the rules of analogy, that
it ought to be universally admitted, without any exception
or reserve. It is custom alone, which engages animals,
from every object, that strikes their senses, to infer its
usual attendant, and carries their imagination, from the
appearance of the one, to conceive the other, in that partic-
ular manner, which we denominate belief. No other ex-
plication can be given of this operation, in all the higher,
as well as lower classes of sensitive beings, which fall under
our notice and observation.[1]
But though animals learn many parts of their knowledge
from observation, there are also many parts of it, which
they derive from the original hand of nature; which much
exceed the share of capacity they possess on ordinary occa-
sions; and in which they improve, little or nothing, by the
longest practice and experience. These we denominate
Instincts, and are so apt to admire as something very extraor-
dinary, and inexplicable by all the disquisitions of human
understanding. But our wonder will, perhaps, cease or
diminish, when we consider, that the experimental reason-
ing itself, which we possess in common with beasts, and on
which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but
a species of instinct or mechanical power, that acts in us
unknown to ourselves; and in its chief operations, is not
directed by any such relations or comparisons of ideas, as
are the proper objects of our intellectual faculties. Though
the instinct be different, yet still it is an instinct, which
teaches a man to avoid the fire; as much as that, which
teaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of incubation, and
the whole economy and order of its nursery.
[1] Since all reasoning concerning facts or causes is derived merely from
custom, it may be asked how it happens, that men so much surpass animals
in reasoning, and one man so much surpasses another? Has not the same
custom the same influence on all?
We shall here endeavour briefly to explain the great difference in human
understandings: After which the reason of the difference between men and
animals will easily be comprehended.
1. When we have lived any time, and have been accustomed to the uni-
formity of nature, we acquire a general habit, by which we always transfer
the known to the unknown, and conceive the latter to resemble the former.
By means of this general habitual principle, we regard even one experi-
ment as the foundation of reasoning, and expect a similar event with some
degree of certainty, where the experiment has been made accurately, and
free from all foreign circumstances. It is therefore considered as a matter
of great importance to observe the consequences of things; and as one man
may very much surpass another in attention and memory and observation,
this will make a very great difference in their reasoning.
2. Where there is a complication of causes to produce any effect, one
mind may be much larger than another, and better able to comprehend the
whole system of objects, and to infer justly their consequences.
3. One man is able to carry on a chain of consequences to a greater
length than another.
4. Few men can think long without running into a confusion of ideas, and
mistaking one for another; and there are various degrees of this infirmity.
5. The circumstance, on which the effect depends, is frequently involved
in other circumstances, which are foreign and extrinsic. The separation of
it often requires great attention, accuracy, and subtility.
6. The forming of general maxims from particular observation is a very
nice operation; and nothing is more usual, from haste or a narrowness of
mind, which sees not on all sides, than to commit mistakes in this particular.
7. When we reason from analogies, the man, who has the greater experi-
ence or the greater promptitude of suggesting analogies, will be the better
reasoner.
8. Biases from prejudice, education, passion, party, &c. hang more upon
one mind than another.
9. After we have acquired a confidence in human testimony, books and
conversation enlarge much more the sphere of one man's experience and
thought than those of another.
It would be easy to discover many other circumstances that make a
difference in the understandings of men.
SECTION X
OF MIRACLES
PART I
THERE is, in Dr. Tillotson's writings, an argument
against the real presence, which is as concise, and
elegant, and strong as any argument can possibly be
supposed against a doctrine, so little worthy of a serious
refutation. It is acknowledged on all hands, says that
learned prelate, that the authority, either of the scripture
or of tradition, is founded merely in the testimony of the
Apostles, who were eye-witnesses to those miracles of our
Saviour, by which he proved his divine mission. Our evi-
dence, then, for, the truth of the Christian religion is
less than the evidence for the truth of our senses; because,
even in the first authors of our religion, it was no greater;
and it is evident it must diminish in passing from them to
their disciples; nor can any one rest such confidence in their
testimony, as in the immediate object of his senses. But a
weaker evidence can never destroy a stronger; and therefore,
were the doctrine of the real presence ever so clearly re-
vealed in scripture, it were directly contrary to the rules
of just reasoning to give our assent to it. It contradicts
sense, though both the scripture and tradition, on which
it is supposed to be built, carry not such evidence with them
as sense; when they are considered merely as external
evidences, and are not brought home to every one's breast,
by the immediate operation of the Holy Spirit.
Nothing is so convenient as a decisive argument of this
kind, which must at least silence the most arrogant big-
otry and superstition, and free us from their impertinent
solicitations. I flatter myself, that I have discovered an
argument of a like nature, which, if just, will, with the wise
and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of super-
stitious delusion, and consequently, will be useful as long as
the world endures. For so long, I presume, will the accounts
of miracles and prodigies be found in all history, sacred and
profane.
Though experience be our only guide in reasoning con-
cerning matters of fact; it must be acknowledged, that
this guide is not altogether infallible, but in some cases
is apt to lead us into errors. One, who in our climate,
should expect better weather in any week of June than in
one of December, would reason justly, and conformably to
experience; but it is certain, that he may happen, in the
event, to find himself mistaken. However, we may observe,
that, in such a case, he would have no cause to complain of
experience; because it commonly informs us beforehand of
the uncertainty, by that contrariety of events, which we may
learn from a diligent observation. All effects follow not with
like certainty from their supposed causes. Some events are
found, in all countries and all ages, to have been con-
stantly conjoined together: Others are found to have been
more variable, and sometimes to disappoint our expecta-
tions; so that, in our reasonings concerning matter of fact,
there are all imaginable degrees of assurance, from the
highest certainty to the lowest species of moral evidence.
A wise man, therefore, proportions his belief to the
evidence. In such conclusions as are founded on an infal-
lible experience, he expects the event with the last degree
of assurance, and regards his past experience as a full
proof of the future existence of that event. In other
cases, he proceeds with more caution: he weighs the
opposite experiments: he considers which side is sup-
ported by the greater number of experiments: to that side
he inclines, with doubt and hesitation; and when at last
he fixes his judgement, the evidence exceeds not what we
properly call probability. All probability, then, supposes
an opposition of experiments and observations, where the
one side is found to overbalance the other, and to produce
a degree of evidence, proportioned to the superiority. A
hundred instances or experiments on one side, and fifty on
another, afford a doubtful expectation of any event; though
a hundred uniform experiments, with only one that is con-
tradictory, reasonably beget a pretty strong degree of as-
surance. In all cases, we must balance the opposite experi-
ments, where they are opposite, and deduct the smaller
number from the greater, in order to know the exact force
of the superior evidence.
To apply these principles to a particular instance; we may
observe, that there is no species of reasoning more common,
more useful, and even necessary to human life, than that
which is derived from the testimony of men, and the reports
of eye-witnesses and spectators. This species of reasoning,
perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the relation of cause
and effect. I shall not dispute about a word. It will be
sufficient to observe that our assurance in any argument
of this kind is derived from no other principle than our
observation of the veracity of human testimony, and of the
usual conformity of facts to the reports of witnesses. It
being a general maxim, that no objects have any dis-
coverable connexion together, and that all the inferences,
which we can draw from one to another, are founded merely
on our experience of their constant and regular conjunction;
it is evident, that we ought not to make an exception to this
maxim in favour of human testimony, whose connexion
with any event seems, in itself, as little necessary as any
other. Were not the memory tenacious to a certain degree;
had not men commonly an inclination to truth and a prin-
ciple of probity; were they not sensible to shame, when
detected in a falsehood: were not these, I say, discovered by
experience to be qualities, inherent in human nature, we
should never repose the least confidence in human testi-
mony. A man delirious, or noted for falsehood and villainy,
has no manner of authority with us.
And as the evidence, derived from witnesses and human
testimony, is founded on past experience, so it varies with
the experience, and is regarded either as a proof or a
probability, according as the conjunction between any par-
ticular kind of report and any kind of object has been found
to be constant or variable. There are a number of circum-
stances to be taken into consideration in all judgements of this
kind; and the ultimate standard, by which we determine all
disputes, that may arise concerning them, is always derived
from experience and observation. Where this experience
is not entirely uniform on any side, it is attended with an
unavoidable contrariety in our judgements, and with the
same opposition and mutual destruction of argument as in
every other kind of evidence. We frequently hesitate con-
cerning the reports of others. We balance the opposite
circumstances, which cause any doubt or uncertainty; and
when we discover a superiority on any side, we incline to it;
but still with a diminution of assurance, in proportion to the
force of its antagonist.
This contrariety of evidence, in the present case, may be
derived from several different causes; from the opposition
of contrary testimony; from the character or number of the
witnesses; from the manner of their delivering their testi-
mony; or from the union of all these circumstances. We
entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of fact, when
the witnesses contradict each other; when they are but
few, or of a doubtful character; when they have an interest
in what they affirm; when they deliver their testimony with
hesitation, or on the contrary, with too violent asseverations.
There are many other particulars of the same kind, which
may diminish or destroy the force of any argument, derived
from human testimony.
Suppose, for instance, that the fact, which the testimony
endeavours to establish, partakes of the extraordinary and
the marvellous; in that case, the evidence, resulting from
the testimony, admits of a diminution, greater or less, in
proportion as the fact is more or less unusual. The reason
why we place any credit in witnesses and historians, is
not derived from any connexion, which we perceive a
priori, between testimony and reality, but because we are
accustomed to find a conformity between them. But when
the fact attested is such a one as has seldom fallen under
our observation, here is a contest of two opposite experi-
ences; of which the one destroys the other, as far as its
force goes, and the superior can only operate on the mind
by the force, which remains. The very same principle of
experience, which gives us a certain degree of assurance in
the testimony of witnesses, gives us also, in this case,
another degree of assurance against the fact, which they
endeavour to establish; from which contradiction there
necessarily arises a counterpoize, and mutual destruction of
belief and authority.
I should not believe such a story were it told me by Cato,
was a proverbial saying in Rome, even during the lifetime
of that philosophical patriot.[1] The incredibility of a fact,
it was allowed, might invalidate so great an authority.
The Indian prince, who refused to believe the first re-
lations concerning the effects of frost, reasoned justly;
and it naturally required very strong testimony to engage
his assent to facts, that arose from a state of nature,
with which he was unacquainted, and which bore so little
analogy to those events, of which he had had constant and
uniform experience. Though they were not contrary to his
experience, they were not conformable to it.[2]
But in order to encrease the probability against the
testimony of witnesses, let us suppose, that the fact, which
they affirm, instead of being only marvellous, is really
miraculous; and suppose also, that the testimony considered
apart and in itself, amounts to an entire proof; in that
case, there is proof against proof, of which the strongest
must prevail, but still with a diminution of its force, in pro-
portion to that of its antagonist.
A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as
a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws,
the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact,
is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly
be imagined. Why is it more than probable, that all men
must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in
the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by
water; unless it be, that these events are found agreeable
to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of
these laws, or in other words, a miracle to prevent them?
Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever happen in the
common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man,
seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: because
such a kind of death, though more unusual than any other,
has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is
a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because
that has never been observed in any age or country. There
must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every
miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that
appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a
proof, there is here a direct and full proof, from the nature
of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor can
such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible,
but by an opposite proof, which is superior.[3]
The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim
worthy of our attention), 'that no testimony is sufficient
to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such
a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than
the fact, which it endeavors to establish; and even in
that case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and
the superior only gives us an assurance suitable to that
degree of force, which remains, after deducting the inferior.'
When anyone tells me, that he saw a dead man restored
to life, I immediately consider with myself, whether it be
more probable, that this person should either deceive or be
deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really
have happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other;
and according to the superiority, which I discover, I pro-
nounce my decision, and always reject the greater miracle.
If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous,
than the event which he relates; then, and not till then,
can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.
PART II
IN the foregoing reasoning we have supposed, that the
testimony, upon which a miracle is founded, may possibly
amount to an entire proof, and that the falsehood of that
testimony would be a real prodigy: but it is easy to shew,
that we have been a great deal too liberal in our concession,
and that there never was a miraculous event established on
so full an evidence.
For first, there is not to be found, in all history, any
miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, of such
unquestioned good-sense, education, and learning, as to
secure us against all delusion in themselves; of such un-
doubted integrity, as to place them beyond all suspicion of
any design to deceive others; of such credit and reputation
in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in
case of their being detected in any falsehood; and at the
same time, attesting facts performed in such a public manner
and in so celebrated a part of the world, as to render the
detection unavoidable: all which circumstances are re-
quisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men.
Secondly. We may observe in human nature a principle
which, if strictly examined, will be found to diminish
extremely the assurance, which we might, from human
testimony, have in any kind of prodigy. The maxim, by
which we commonly conduct ourselves in our reasonings,
is, that the objects, of which we have no experience, re-
sembles those, of which we have; that what we have found
to be most usual is always most probable; and that where
there is an opposition of arguments, we ought to give the
preference to such as are founded on the greatest number
of past observations. But though, in proceeding by this rule,
we readily reject any fact which is unusual and incredible
in an ordinary degree; yet in advancing farther, the mind
observes not always the same rule; but when anything is
affirmed utterly absurd and miraculous, it rather the more
readily admits of such a fact, upon account of that very
circumstance, which ought to destroy all its authority. The
passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being
an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the
belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this
goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure
immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of
which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfac-
tion at second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and
delight in exciting the admiration of others.
With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of
travellers received, their descriptions of sea and land mon-
sters, their relations of wonderful adventures, strange men,
and uncouth manners? But if the spirit of religion join
itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common
sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses
all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an en-
thusiast, and imagine he sees what has no reality: he may
know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with
the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting
so holy a cause: or even where this delusion has not place,
vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on
him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any
other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force.
His auditors may not have, and commonly have not, suf-
ficient judgement to canvass his evidence: what judgement
they have, they renounce by principle, in these sublime
and mysterious subjects: or if they were ever so willing
to employ it, passion and a heated imagination disturb the
regularity of its operations. their credulity increases his
impudence: and his impudence overpowers their credulity.
Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room
for reason or reflection; but addressing itself entirely to the
fancy or the affections, captivates the willing hearers, and
subdues their understanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom
attains. But what a Tully or a Demosthenes could scarcely
effect over a Roman or Athenian audience, every Capuchin,
every itinerant or stationary teacher can perform over the
generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by touching
such gross and vulgar passions.
The many instances of forged miracles, and prophecies,
and supernatural events, which, in all ages, have either been
detected by contrary evidence, or which detect themselves
by their absurdity, prove sufficiently the strong propensity
of mankind to the extraordinary and the marvellous, and
ought reasonably to beget a suspicion against all relations
of this kind. This is our natural way of thinking, even
with regard to the most common and most credible events.
For instance: There is no kind of report which rises so
easily, and spreads so quickly, especially in country places
and provincial towns, as those concerning marriages; inso-
much that two young persons of equal condition never see
each other twice, but the whole neighbourhood immediately
join them together. The pleasure of telling a piece of
news so interesting, of propagating it, and of being the first
reporters of it, spreads the intelligence. And this is so well
known, that no man of sense gives attention to these reports,
till he find them confirmed by some greater evidence. Do
not the same passions, and others still stronger, incline the
generality of mankind to believe and report, with the
greatest vehemence and assurance, all religious miracles?
Thirdly. It forms a strong presumption against all super-
natural and miraculous relations, that they are observed
chiefly to abound among ignorant and barbarous nations;
or if a civilized people has ever given admission to any
of them, that people will be found to have received them
from ignorant and barbarous ancestors, who transmitted
them with that inviolable sanction and authority, which
always attend received opinions. When we peruse the
first histories of all nations, we are apt to imagine our-
selves transported into some new world; where the whole
frame of nature is disjointed, and every element performs
its operations in a different manner, from what it does at
present. Battles, revolutions, pestilence, famine and death,
are never the effect of those natural causes, which we
experience. Prodigies, omens, oracles, judgements, quite
obscure the few natural events, that are intermingled with
them. But as the former grow thinner every page, in
proportion as we advance nearer the enlightened ages, we
soon learn, that there is nothing mysterious or supernatural
in the case, but that all proceeds from the usual propensity
of mankind towards the marvellous, and that, though this
inclination may at intervals receive a check from sense and
learning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human
nature.
It is strange, a judicious reader is apt to say, upon the
perusal of these wonderful historians, that such prodigious
events never happen in our days. But it is nothing strange,
I hope, that men should lie in all ages. You must surely
have seen instances enough of that frailty. You have your-
self heard many such marvellous relations started, which,
being treated with scorn by all the wise and judicious,
have at last been abandoned even by the vulgar. Be as-
sured, that those renowned lies, which have spread and
flourished to such a monstrous height, arose from like
beginnings; but being sown in a more proper soil, shot
up at last into prodigies almost equal to those which they
relate.
It was a wise policy in that false prophet, Alexander, who
though now forgotten, was once so famous, to lay the first
scene of his impostures in Paphlagonia, where, as Lucian
tells us, the people were extremely ignorant and stupid, and
ready to swallow even the grossest delusion. People at
a distance, who are weak enough to think the matter at all
worth enquiry, have no opportunity of receiving better in-
formation. The stories come magnified to them by a hundred
circumstances. Fools are industrious in propagating the
imposture; while the wise and learned are contented, in
general, to deride its absurdity, without informing themselves
of the particular facts, by which it may be distinctly refuted.
And thus the impostor above mentioned was enabled to
proceed, from his ignorant Paphlagonians, to the enlisting
of votaries, even among the Grecian philosophers, and men
of the most eminent rank and distinction in Rome; nay,
could engage the attention of that sage emperor Marcus
Aurelius; so far as to make him trust the success of
a military expedition to his delusive prophecies.
The advantages are so great, of starting an imposture
among an ignorant people, that, even though the delusion
should be too gross to impose on the generality of them
(which, though seldom, is sometimes the case) it has a much
better chance for succeeding in remote countries, than if
the first scene had been laid in a city renowned for arts and
knowledge. The most ignorant and barbarous of these
barbarians carry the report abroad. None of their country-
men have a large correspondence, or sufficient credit and
authority to contradict and beat down the delusion. Men's
inclination to the marvellous has full opportunity to display
itself. And thus a story, which is universally exploded in
the place where it was first started, shall pass for certain at
a thousand miles distance. But had Alexander fixed his
residence at Athens, the philosophers of that renowned
mart of learning had immediately spread, throughout the
whole Roman empire, their sense of the matter; which,
being supported by so great authority, and displayed by all
the force of reason and eloquence, had entirely opened the
eyes of mankind. It is true; Lucian, passing by chance
through Paphlagonia, had an opportunity of performing
this good office. But, though much to be wished, it does
not always happen, that every Alexander meets with a
Lucian, ready to expose and detect his impostures.
I may add as a fourth reason, which diminishes the
authority of prodigies, that there is no testimony for any,
even those which have not been expressly detected, that
is not opposed by an infinite number of witnesses; so that
not only the miracle destroys the credit of testimony, but
the testimony destroys itself. To make this the better
understood, let us consider, that, in matters of religion,
whatever is different is contrary; and that it is impossible
the religions of ancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of
China should, all of them, be established on any solid
foundation. Every miracle, therefore, pretended to have
been wrought in any of these religions (and all of them
abound in miracles), as its direct scope is to establish the
particular system to which it is attributed; so has it the
same force, though more indirectly, to overthrow every
other system. In destroying a rival system, it likewise
destroys the credit of those miracles, on which that system
was established; so that all the prodigies of different re-
ligions are to be regarded as contrary facts, and the evi-
dences of these prodigies, whether weak or strong, as
opposite to each other. According to this method of rea-
soning, when we believe any miracle of Mahomet or his
successors, we have for our warrant the testimony of a
few barbarous Arabians: and on the other hand, we are
to regard the authority of Titus Livius, Plutarch, Tacitus,
and, in short, of all the authors and witnesses, Grecian,
Chinese, and Roman Catholic, who have related any mira-
cle in their particular religion; I say, we are to regard
their testimony in the same light as if they had mentioned
that Mahometan miracle, and had in express terms con-
tradicted it, with the same certainty as they have for the
miracle they relate. This argument may appear over sub-
tile and refined; but is not in reality different from the
reasoning of a judge, who supposes, that the credit of
two witnesses, maintaining a crime against any one, is
destroyed by the testimony of two others, who affirm him
to have been two hundred leagues distant, at the same in-
stant when the crime is said to have been committed.
One of the best attested miracles in all profane history,
is that which Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured
a blind man in Alexandria, by means of his spittle, and
a lame man by the mere touch of his foot; in obedience
to a vision of the god Serapis, who had enjoined them to
have recourse to the Emperor, for these miraculous cures.
The story may be seen in that fine historian[4]; where every
circumstance seems to add weight to the testimony, and
might be displayed at large with all the force of argument
and eloquence, if any one were now concerned to enforce
the evidence of that exploded and idolatrous superstition.
The gravity, solidity, age, and probity of so great an
emperor, who, through the whole course of his life, con-
versed in a familiar manner with his friends and courtiers,
and never affected those extraordinary airs of divinity
assumed by Alexander and Demetrius. The historian, a
contemporary writer, noted for candour and veracity, and
withal, the greatest and most penetrating genius, perhaps,
of all antiquity; and so free from any tendency to credulity,
that he even lies under the contrary imputation, of atheism
and profaneness: The persons, from whose authority he
related the miracle, of established character for judgement
and veracity, as we may well presume; eye-witnesses of the
fact, and confirming their testimony, after the Flavian
family was despoiled of the empire, and could no longer
give any reward, as the price of a lie. Utrumque, qui
interfuere, nunc quoque memorant, postquam nullum men-
dacio pretium. To which if we add the public nature of
the facts, as related, it will appear, that no evidence can
well be supposed stronger for so gross and so palpable a
falsehood.
There is also a memorable story related by Cardinal de
Retz, which may well deserve our consideration. When
that intriguing politician fled into Spain, to avoid the
persecution of his enemies, he passed through Saragossa,
the capital of Arragon, where he was shewn, in the cathe-
dral, a man, who had served seven years as a doorkeeper,
and was well known to every body in town, that had
ever paid his devotions at that church. He had been
seen, for so long a time, wanting a leg; but recovered that
limb by the rubbing of holy oil upon the stump; and the
cardinal assures us that he saw him with two legs. This
miracle was vouched by all the canons of the church; and
the whole company in town were appealed to for a con-
firmation of the fact; whom the cardinal found, by their
zealous devotion, to be thorough believers of the miracle.
Here the relater was also contemporary to the supposed
prodigy, of an incredulous and libertine character, as well
as of great genius; the miracle of so singular a nature as
could scarcely admit of a counterfeit, and the witnesses
very numerous, and all of them, in a manner, spectators of
the fact, to which they gave their testimony. And what
adds mightily to the force of the evidence, and may double
our surprise on this occasion, is, that the cardinal himself,
who relates the story, seems not to give any credit to it, and
consequently cannot be suspected of any concurrence in
the holy fraud. He considered justly, that it was not
requisite, in order to reject a fact of this nature, to be
able accurately to disprove the testimony, and to trace its
falsehood, through all the circumstances of knavery and
credulity which produced it. He knew, that, as this was
commonly altogether impossible at any small distance of
time and place; so was it extremely difficult, even where
one was immediately present, by reason of the bigotry,
ignorance, cunning, and roguery of a great part of man-
kind. He therefore concluded, like a just reasoner, that
such an evidence carried falsehood upon the very face
of it, and that a miracle, supported by any human testi-
mony, was more properly a subject of derision than of
argument.
There surely never was a greater number of miracles
ascribed to one person, than those, which were lately said
to have been wrought in France upon the tomb of Abbe
Paris, the famous Jansenist, with whose sanctity the people
were so long deluded. The curing of the sick, giving
hearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, were every
where talked of as the usual effects of that holy sepulchre.
But what is more extraordinary; many of the miracles were
immediately proved upon the spot, before judges of un-
questioned integrity, attested by witnesses of credit and
distinction, in a learned age, and on the most eminent
theatre that is now in the world. Nor is this all: a relation
of them was published and dispersed everywhere; nor were
the Jesuits, though a learned body supported by the civil
magistrate, and determined enemies to those opinions, in
whose favour the miracles were said to have been wrought,
ever able distinctly to refute or detect them.[5] Where shall
we find such a number of circumstances, agreeing to the
corroboration of one fact? And what have we to oppose
to such a cloud of witnesses, but the absolute impossibility
or miraculous nature of the events, which they relate? And
this surely, in the eyes of all reasonable people, will alone
be regarded as a sufficient refutation.
Is the consequence just, because some human testimony
has the utmost force and authority in some cases, when it
relates the battle of Philippi or Pharsalia for instance; that
therefore all kinds of testimony must, in all cases, have
equal force and authority? Suppose that the Caesarean
and Pompeian factions had, each of them, claimed the
victory in these battles, and that the historians of each
party had uniformly ascribed the advantage to their own
side; how could mankind, at this distance, have been able
to determine between them? The contrariety is equally
strong between the miracles related by Herodotus or
Plutarch, and those delivered by Mariana, Bede, or any
monkish historian.
The wise lend a very academic faith to every report
which favours the passion of the reporter; whether it
magnifies his country, his family, or himself, or in any
other way strikes in with his natural inclinations and pro-
pensities. But what greater temptation than to appear
a missionary, a prophet, an ambassador from heaven? Who
would not encounter many dangers and difficulties, in
order to attain so sublime a character? Or if, by the help
of vanity and a heated imagination, a man has first made a
convert of himself, and entered seriously into the delusion;
who ever scruples to make use of pious frauds, in support
of so holy and meritorious a cause?
The smallest spark may here kindle into the greatest
flame; because the materials are always prepared for it.
The avidum genus auricularum[6], the gazing populace, re-
ceive greedily, without examination, whatever sooths super-
stition, and promotes wonder.
How many stories of this nature have, in all ages, been
detected and exploded in their infancy? How many more
have been celebrated for a time, and have afterwards sunk
into neglect and oblivion? Where such reports, therefore,
fly about, the solution of the phenomenon is obvious; and
we judge in conformity to regular experience and observa-
tion, when we account for it by the known and natural
principles of credulity and delusion. And shall we, rather
than have a recourse to so natural a solution, allow of a
miraculous violation of the most established laws of nature?
I need not mention the difficulty of detecting a falsehood
in any private or even public history, at the place, where it
is said to happen; much more when the scene is removed
to ever so small a distance. Even a court of judicature,
with all the authority, accuracy, and judgement, which they
can employ, find themselves often at a loss to distinguish
between truth and falsehood in the most recent actions.
But the matter never comes to any issue, if trusted to the
common method of altercations and debate and flying
rumours; especially when men's passions have taken part
on either side.
In the infancy of new religions, the wise and learned
commonly esteem the matter too inconsiderable to deserve
their attention or regard. And when afterwards they would
willingly detect the cheat in order to undeceive the deluded
multitude, the season is now past, and the records and
witnesses, which might clear up the matter, have perished
beyond recovery.
No means of detection remain, but those which must be
drawn from the very testimony itself of the reporters: and
these, though always sufficient with the judicious and know-
ing, are commonly too fine to fall under the comprehension
of the vulgar.
Upon the whole, then, it appears, that no testimony for
any kind of miracle has ever amounted to a probability,
much less to a proof; and that, even supposing it amounted
to a proof, it would be opposed by another proof; derived
from the very nature of the fact, which it would endeavour
to establish. It is experience only, which gives authority
to human testimony; and it is the same experience, which
assures us of the laws of nature. When, therefore, these
two kinds of experience are contrary, we have nothing to
do but subtract the one from the other, and embrace an
opinion, either on one side or the other, with that assurance
which arises from the remainder. But according to the
principle here explained, this subtraction, with regard to
all popular religions, amounts to an entire annihilation; and
therefore we may establish it as a maxim, that no human
testimony can have such force as to prove a miracle, and
make it a just foundation for any such system of religion.
I beg the limitations here made may be remarked, when
I say, that a miracle can never be proved, so as to be the
foundation of a system of religion. For I own, that other-
wise, there may possibly be miracles, or violations of the
usual course of nature, of such a kind as to admit of proof
from human testimony; though, perhaps, it will be im-
possible to find any such in all the records of history.
Thus, suppose, all authors, in all languages, agree, that,
from the first of January, 1600, there was a total darkness
over the whole earth for eight days: suppose that the
tradition of this extraordinary event is still strong and
lively among the people: that all travellers, who return
from foreign countries, bring us accounts of the same
tradition, without the least variation or contradiction: it is
evident, that our present philosophers, instead of doubting
the fact, ought to receive it as certain, and ought to search
for the causes whence it might be derived. The decay,
corruption, and dissolution of nature, is an event rendered
probable by so many analogies, that any phenomenon,
which seems to have a tendency towards that catastrophe,
comes within the reach of human testimony, if that testi-
mony be very extensive and uniform.
But suppose, that all the historians who treat of England,
should agree, that, on the first of January, 1600, Queen
Elizabeth died; that both before and after her death she
was seen by her physicians and the whole court, as is usual
with persons of her rank; that her successor was acknowl-
edged and proclaimed by the parliament; and that, after
being interred a month, she again appeared, resumed the
throne, and governed England for three years: I must
confess that I should be surprised at the concurrence of so
many odd circumstances, but should not have the least
inclination to believe so miraculous an event. I should not
doubt of her pretended death, and of those other public
circumstances that followed it: I should only assert it to have
been pretended, and that it neither was, nor possibly could
be real. You would in vain object to me the difficulty,
and almost impossibility of deceiving the world in an affair
of such consequence; the wisdom and solid judgment of
that renowned queen; with the little or no advantage which
she could reap from so poor an artifice: all this might
astonish me; but I would still reply, that the knavery and
folly of men are such common phenomena, that I should
rather believe the most extraordinary events to arise from
their concurrence, than admit of so signal a violation of
the laws of nature.
But should this miracle be ascribed to any new system of
religion; men, in all ages, have been so much imposed on
by ridiculous stories of that kind, that this very circumstance
would be a full proof of a cheat, and sufficient, with all men
of sense, not only to make them reject the fact, but even
reject it without farther examination. Though the Being to
whom the miracle is ascribed, be, in this case, Almighty, it
does not, upon that account, become a whit more probable;
since it is impossible for us to know the attributes or actions
of such a Being, otherwise than from the experience which
we have of his productions, in the usual course of nature.
This still reduces us to past observation, and obliges us to
compare the instances of the violation of truth in the testi-
mony of men, with those of the violation of the laws of
nature by miracles, in order to judge which of them is
most likely and probable. As the violations of truth are
more common in the testimony concerning religious mir-
acles, than in that concerning any other matter of fact;
this must diminish very much the authority of the former
testimony, and make us form a general resolution, never to
lend any attention to it, with whatever specious pretence it
may be covered.
Lord Bacon seems to have embraced the same principles
of reasoning. 'We ought,' says he, 'to make a collection or
particular history of all monsters and prodigious births or
productions, and in a word of every thing new, rare, and
extraordinary in nature. But this must be done with the
most severe scrutiny, lest we depart from truth. Above all,
every relation must be considered as suspicious, which
depends in any degree upon religion, as the prodigies of
Livy: and no less so, everything that is to be found in the
writers of natural magic or alchimy, or such authors, who
seem, all of them, to have an unconquerable appetite for
falsehood and fable.[7]
I am the better pleased with the method of reasoning
here delivered, as I think it may serve to confound those
dangerous friends or disguised enemies to the Christian
Religion, who have undertaken to defend it by the principles
of human reason. Our most holy religion is founded on
Faith, not on reason; and it is a sure method of exposing
it to put it to such a trial as it is, by no means, fitted to
endure. To make this more evident, let us examine those
miracles, related in scripture; and not to lose ourselves in
too wide a field, let us confine ourselves to such as we find
in the Pentateuch, which we shall examine, according to the
principles of these pretended Christians, not as the word or
testimony of God himself, but as the production of a mere
human writer and historian. Here then we are first to
consider a book, presented to us by a barbarous and ignorant
people, written in an age when they were still more bar-
barous, and in all probability long after the facts which
it relates, corroborated by no concurring testimony, and
resembling those fabulous accounts, which every nation gives
of its origin. Upon reading this book, we find it full of
prodigies and miracles. It gives an account of a state of
the world and of human nature entirely different from the
present: of our fall from that state: of the age of man,
extended to near a thousand years: of the destruction of
the world by a deluge: of the arbitrary choice of one
people, as the favourites of heaven; and that people the
countrymen of the author: of their deliverance from bond-
age by prodigies the most astonishing imaginable: I desire
any one to lay his hand upon his heart, and after a serious
consideration declare, whether he thinks that the falsehood
of such a book, supported by such a testimony, would be
more extraordinary and miraculous than all the miracles it
relates; which is, however, necessary to make it be received,
according to the measures of probability above established.
What we have said of miracles may be applied, without
any variation, to prophecies; and indeed, all prophecies are
real miracles, and as such only, can be admitted as proofs of
any revelation. If it did not exceed the capacity of human
nature to foretell future events, it would be absurd to employ
any prophecy as an argument for a divine mission or
authority from heaven. So that, upon the whole, we may
conclude, that the Christian Religion not only was at first
attended with miracles, but even at this day cannot be
believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere reason
is insufficient to convince us of its veracity: and whoever
is moved by Faith to assent to it, is conscious of a con-
tinued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the
principles of his understanding, and gives him a determina-
tion to believe what is most contrary to custom and ex-
perience.
[1] Plutarch, in vita Catonis.
[2] No Indian, it is evident, could have experience that water did not freeze
in cold climates. This is placing nature in a situation quite unknown to
him; and it is impossible for him to tell a priori what will result from it.
It is making a new experiment, the consequence of which is always uncer-
tain. One may sometimes conjecture from analogy what will follow; but
still this is but conjecture. And it must be confessed, that, in the present
case of freezing, the event follows contrary to the rules of analogy, and
is such as a rational Indian would not look for. The operations of cold
upon water are not gradual, according to the degrees of cold; but when-
ever it comes to the freezing point, the water passes in a moment, from
the utmost liquidity to perfect hardness. Such an event, therefore, may be
denominated extraordinary, and requires a pretty strong testimony, to ren-
der it credible to people in a warm climate: But still it is not miraculous,
nor contrary to uniform experience of the course of nature in cases where
all the circumstances are the same. The inhabitants of Sumatra have always
seen water fluid in their own climate, and the freezing of their rivers ought
to be deemed a prodigy: But they never saw water in Muscovy during
the winter; and therefore they cannot reasonably be positive what would
there be the consequence.
[3] Sometimes an event may not, in itself, seem to be contrary to the laws
of nature, and yet, if it were real, it might, by reason of some circum-
stances, be denominated a miracle; because, in fact, it is contrary to these
laws. Thus if a person, claiming a divine authority, should command a
sick person to be well, a healthful man to fall down dead, the clouds to
pour rain, the winds to blow, in short, should order many natural events,
which immediately follow upon his command; these might justly be esteemed
miracles, because they are really, in this case, contrary to the laws of
nature. For if any suspicion remain, that the event and command con-
curred by accident there is no miracle and no transgression of the laws of
nature. If this suspicion be removed, there is evidently a miracle, and a
transgression of these laws; because nothing can be more contrary to nature
than that the voice or command of a man should have such an influence.
A miracle may be accurately defined, a transgression of a law of nature by
a particular volition of the Deity, or by the interposition of some invisible
agent. A miracle may either be discoverable by men or not. This alters
not its nature and essence. The raising of a house or ship into the air is
a visible miracle. The raising of a feather, when the wind wants ever so
little of a force requisite for that purpose, is as real a miracle, though not
so sensible with regard to us.
[4] Hist. lib. v. cap. 8, Suetonius gives nearly the same account in vita Vesp.
[5] By Mons. Montgeron, counsellor or judge of the Parliament of Paris.
[6] Lucret.
[7] Nov. Org. lib. ii. aph. 29.
SECTION XI
OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE AND OF A FUTURE STATE
I WAS lately engaged in conversation with a friend
who loves sceptical paradoxes; where, though he ad-
vanced many principles, of which I can by no means
approve, yet as they seem to be curious, and to bear some
relation to the chain of reasoning carried on throughout
this enquiry, I shall here copy them from my memory as
accurately as I can, in order to submit them to the judge-
ment of the reader.
Our conversation began with my admiring the singular
good fortune of philosophy, which, as it requires entire
liberty above all other privileges, and chiefly flourishes
from the free opposition of sentiments and argumentation,
received its first birth in an age and country of freedom and
toleration, and was never cramped, even in its most extrav-
agant principles, by any creeds, concessions, or penal
statutes. For, except the banishment of Protagoras, and
the death of Socrates, which last event proceeded partly
from other motives, there are scarcely any instances to be
met with, in ancient history, of this bigoted jealousy, with
which the present age is so much infested. Epicurus lived
at Athens to an advanced age, in peace and tranquillity:
Epicureans[1] were even admitted to receive the sacerdotal
character, and to officiate at the altar, in the most sacred
rites of the established religion: and the public encourage-
ment[2] of pensions and salaries was afforded equally, by the
wisest of all the Roman emperors[3], to the professors of
every sect of philosophy. How requisite such kind of treat-
ment was to philosophy, in her early youth, will easily be
conceived, if we reflect, that, even at present, when she
may be supposed more hardy and robust, she bears with
much difficulty the inclemency of the seasons, and those
harsh winds of calumny and persecution, which blow upon
her.
You admire, says my friend, as the singular good fortune
of philosophy, what seems to result from the natural course
of things, and to be unavoidable in every age and nation.
This pertinacious bigotry, of which you complain, as so fatal
to philosophy, is really her offspring, who, after allying with
superstition, separates himself entirely from the interest of
his parent, and becomes her most inveterate enemy and
persecutor. Speculative dogmas of religion, the present
occasions of such furious dispute, could not possibly be con-
ceived or admitted in the early ages of the world; when
mankind, being wholly illiterate, formed an idea of religion
more suitable to their weak apprehension, and composed
their sacred tenets of such tales chiefly as were the objects
of traditional belief, more than of argument or disputation.
After the first alarm, therefore, was over, which arose from
the new paradoxes and principles of the philosophers; these
teachers seem ever after, during the ages of antiquity, to
have lived in great harmony with the established supersti-
tion, and to have made a fair partition of mankind between
them; the former claiming all the learned and wise, the
latter possessing all the vulgar and illiterate.
It seems then, say I, that you leave politics entirely out of
the question, and never suppose, that a wise magistrate can
justly be jealous of certain tenets of philosophy, such as those
of Epicurus, which, denying a divine existence, and conse-
quently a providence and a future state, seem to loosen, in a
great measure the ties of morality, and may be supposed,
for that reason, pernicious to the peace of civil society.
I know, replied he, that in fact these persecutions never,
in any age, proceeded from calm reason, or from experience
of the pernicious consequences of philosophy; but arose
entirely from passion and prejudice. But what if I should
advance farther, and assert, that if Epicurus had been ac-
cused before the people, by any of the sycophants or inform-
ers of those days, he could easily have defended his cause,
and proved his principles of philosophy to be as salutary as
those of his adversaries, who endeavoured, with such zeal, to
expose him to the public hatred and jealousy?
I wish, said I, you would try your eloquence upon so
extraordinary a topic, and make a speech for Epicurus,
which might satisfy, not the mob of Athens, if you will
allow that ancient and polite city to have contained any mob,
but the more philosophical part of his audience, such as
might be supposed capable of comprehending his arguments.
The matter would not be difficult, upon such conditions,
replied he: and if you please, I shall suppose myself Epi-
curus for a moment, and make you stand for the Athenian
people, and shall deliver you such an harangue as will fill
all the urn with white beans, and leave not a black one to
gratify the malice of my adversaries.
Very well: pray proceed upon these suppositions.
I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly
what I maintain in my school, and I find myself impeached
by furious antagonists, instead of reasoning with calm and
dispassionate enquirers. Your deliberations, which of right
should be directed to questions of public good, and the
interest of the commonwealth, are diverted to the disquisi-
tions of speculative philosophy; and these magnificent, but
perhaps fruitless enquiries, take place of your more familiar
but more useful occupations. But so far as in me lies,
I will prevent this abuse. We shall not here dispute con-
cerning the origin and government of worlds. We shall only
enquire how far such questions concern the public interest.
And if I can persuade you, that they are entirely indifferent
to the peace of society and security of government, I hope
that you will presently send us back to our schools, there to
examine, at leisure, the question the most sublime, but, at the
same time, the most speculative of all philosophy.
The religious philosophers, not satisfied with the tradition
of your forefathers, and doctrine of your priests (in which
I willingly acquiesce), indulge a rash curiosity, in trying how
far they can establish religion upon the principles of reason;
and they thereby excite, instead of satisfying, the doubts,
which naturally arise from a diligent and scrutinous enquiry.
They paint, in the most magnificent colours, the order,
beauty, and wise arrangement of the universe; and then
ask, if such a glorious display of intelligence could proceed
from the fortuitous concourse of atoms, or if chance could
produce what the greatest genius can never sufficiently
admire. I shall not examine the justness of this argument.
I shall allow it to be as solid as my antagonists and accusers
can desire. It is sufficient, if I can prove, from this very
reasoning, that the question is entirely speculative, and
that, when, in my philosophical disquisitions, I deny a
providence and a future state, I undermine not the founda-
tions of society, but advance principles, which they them-
selves, upon their own topics, if they argue consistently,
must allow to be solid and satisfactory.
You then, who are my accusers, have acknowledged, that
the chief or sole argument for a divine existence (which I
never questioned) is derived from the order of nature;
where there appear such marks of intelligence and design,
that you think it extravagant to assign for its cause, either
chance, or the blind and unguided force of matter. You
allow, that this is an argument drawn from effects to causes.
From the order of the work, you infer, that there must have
been project and forethought in the workman. If you can-
not make out this point, you allow, that your conclusion
fails; and you pretend not to establish the conclusion in a
greater latitude than the phenomena of nature will justify.
These are your concessions. I desire you to mark the con-
sequences.
When we infer any particular cause from an effect, we
must proportion the one to the other, and can never be
allowed to ascribe to the cause any qualities, but what are
exactly sufficient to produce the effect. A body of ten
ounces raised in any scale may serve as a proof, that the
counterbalancing weight exceeds ten ounces; but can never
afford a reason that it exceeds a hundred. If the cause,
assigned for any effect, be not sufficient to produce it, we
must either reject that cause, or add to it such qualities as
will give it a just proportion to the effect. But if we ascribe
to it farther qualities, or affirm it capable of producing other
effects, we can only indulge the licence of conjecture, and
arbitrarily suppose the existence of qualities and energies,
without reason or authority.
The same rule holds, whether the cause assigned be brute
unconscious matter, or a rational intelligent being. If the
cause be known only by the effect, we never ought to ascribe
to it any qualities, beyond what are precisely requisite to
produce the effect: nor can we, by any rules of just reason-
ing, return back from the cause, and infer other effects from
it, beyond those by which alone it is known to us. No one,
merely from the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures, could
know, that he was also a statuary or architect, and was an
artist no less skilful in stone and marble than in colours.
The talents and taste, displayed in the particular work before
us; these we may safely conclude the workman to be pos-
sessed of. The cause must be proportioned to the effect;
and if we exactly and precisely proportion it, we shall
never find in it any qualities, that point farther, or afford an
inference concerning any other design or performance.
Such qualities must be somewhat beyond what is merely
requisite for producing the effect, which we examine.
Allowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the
existence or order of the universe; it follows, that they
possess that precise degree of power, intelligence, and
benevolence, which appears in their workmanship; but
nothing farther can ever be proved, except we call in the
assistance of exaggeration and flattery to supply the defects
of argument and reasoning. So far as the traces of any
attributes, at present, appear, so far may we conclude these
attributes to exist. The supposition of farther attributes
is mere hypothesis; much more the supposition, that, in
distant regions of space or periods of time, there has been,
or will be, a more magnificent display of these attributes, and
a scheme of administration more suitable to such imaginary
virtues. We can never be allowed to mount up from the
universe, the effect, to Jupiter, the cause; and then descend
downwards, to infer any new effect from that cause; as if
the present effects alone were not entirely worthy of the
glorious attributes, which we ascribe to that deity. The
knowledge of the cause being derived solely from the effect,
they must be exactly adjusted to each other; and the one
can never refer to anything farther, or be the foundation of
any new inference and conclusion.
You find certain phenomena in nature. You seek a
cause or author. You imagine that you have found him.
You afterwards become so enamoured of this offspring of
your brain, that you imagine it impossible, but he must
produce something greater and more perfect than the
present scene of things, which is so full of ill and disorder.
You forget, that this superlative intelligence and benevo-
lence are entirely imaginary, or, at least, without any foun-
dation in reason; and that you have no ground to ascribe
to him any qualities, but what you see he has actually
exerted and displayed in his productions. Let your gods,
therefore, O philosophers, be suited to the present appear-
ances of nature: and presume not to alter these appearances
by arbitrary suppositions, in order to suit them to the at-
tributes, which you so fondly ascribe to your deities.
When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O
Athenians, talk of a golden or silver age, which preceded
the present state of vice and misery, I hear them with at-
tention and with reverence. But when philosophers, who
pretend to neglect authority, and to cultivate reason, hold
the same discourse, I pay them not, I own, the same ob-
sequious submission and pious deference. I ask; who carried
them into the celestial regions, who admitted them into
the councils of the gods, who opened to them the book of
fate, that they thus rashly affirm, that their deities have
executed, or will execute, any purpose beyond what has
actually appeared? If they tell me, that they have mounted
on the steps or by the gradual ascent of reason, and by
drawing inferences from effects to causes, I still insist, that
they have aided the ascent of reason by the wings of
imagination; otherwise they could not thus change their
manner of inference, and argue from causes to effects;
presuming, that a more perfect production than the present
world would be more suitable to such perfect beings as the
gods, and forgetting that they have no reason to ascribe
to these celestial beings any perfection or any attribute, but
what can be found in the present world.
Hence all the fruitless industry to account for the ill
appearances of nature, and save the honour of the gods;
while we must acknowledge the reality of that evil and
disorder, with which the world so much abounds. The
obstinate and intractable qualities of matter, we are told,
or the observance of general laws, or some such reason,
is the sole cause, which controlled the power and benevo-
lence of Jupiter, and obliged him to create mankind and
every sensible creature so imperfect and so unhappy. These
attributes then, are, it seems, beforehand, taken for granted,
in their greatest latitude. And upon that supposition, I
own that such conjectures may, perhaps, be admitted as
plausible solutions of the ill phenomena. But still I ask;
Why take these attributes for granted, or why ascribe to
the cause any qualities but what actually appear in the
effect? Why torture your brain to justify the course of
nature upon suppositions, which, for aught you know, may
be entirely imaginary, and of which there are to be found no
traces in the course of nature?
The religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered
only as a particular method of accounting for the visible
phenomena of the universe: but no just reasoner will ever
presume to infer from it any single fact, and alter or add
to the phenomena, in any single particular. If you think,
that the appearances of things prove such causes, it is al-
lowable for you to draw an inference concerning the exist-
ence of these causes. In such complicated and sublime
subjects, every one should be indulged in the liberty of
conjecture and argument. But here you ought to rest.
If you come backward, and arguing from your inferred
causes, conclude, that any other fact has existed, or will
exist, in the course of nature, which may serve as a fuller
display of particular attributes; I must admonish you, that
you have departed from the method of reasoning, attached
to the present subject, and have certainly added something
to the attributes of the cause, beyond what appears in the
effect; otherwise you could never, with tolerable sense or
propriety, add anything to the effect, in order to render it
more worthy of the cause.
Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, which
I teach in my school, or rather, which I examine in my
gardens? Or what do you find in this whole question,
wherein the security of good morals, or the peace and order
of society, is in the least concerned?
I deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor
of the world, who guides the course of events, and punishes
the vicious with infamy and disappointment, and rewards
the virtuous with honour and success, in all their under-
takings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events,
which lies open to every one's inquiry and examination.
I acknowledge, that, in the present order of things, virtue
is attended with more peace of mind than vice, and meets
with a more favourable reception from the world. I am
sensible, that, according to the past experience of mankind,
friendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation
the only source of tranquillity and happiness. I never
balance between the virtuous and the vicious course of life;
but am sensible, that, to a well-disposed mind, every ad-
vantage is on the side of the former. And what can you say
more, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings? You
tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things proceeds from
intelligence and design. But whatever it proceeds from, the
disposition itself, on which depends our happiness or
misery, and consequently our conduct and deportment in
life is still the same. It is still open for me, as well as you,
to regulate my behaviour, by my experience of past events.
And if you affirm, that, while a divine providence is allowed
and a supreme distributive justice in the universe, I ought
to expect some more particular reward of the good, and
punishment of the bad, beyond the ordinary course of
events; I here find the same fallacy, which I have before
endeavoured to detect. You persist in imagining, that, if
we grant that divine existence, for which you so earnestly
contend, you may safely infer consequences from it, and add
something to the experienced order of nature, by arguing
from the attributes which you ascribe to your gods. You
seem not to remember, that all your reasonings on this
subJect can only be drawn from effects to causes; and that
every argument, deducted from causes to effects, must of
necessity be a gross sophism; since it is impossible for
you to know anything of the cause, but what you have
antecedently, not inferred, but discovered to the full, in
the effect.
But what must a philosopher think of those vain rea-
soners, who instead of regarding the present scene of things
as the sole object of their contemplation, so far reverse the
whole course of nature, as to render this life merely a
passage to something farther; a porch, which leads to a
greater, and vastly different building; a prologue, which
serves only to introduce the piece, and give it more grace
and propriety? Whence, do you think, can such philoso-
phers derive their idea of the gods? From their own con-
ceit and imagination surely. For if they derived it from the
present phenomena, it would never point to anything farther,
but must be exactly adjusted to them. That the divinity may
possibly be endowed with attributes, which we have never
seen exerted; may be governed by principles of action,
which we cannot discover to be satisfied: all this will freely
be allowed. But still this is mere possibility and hypothesis.
We never can have reason to infer any attributes, or any
principles of action in him, but so far as we know them to
have been exerted and satisfied.
Are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world?
If you answer in the affirmative, I conclude, that, since
justice here exerts itself, it is satisfied. If you reply in
the negative, I conclude, that you have then no reason
to ascribe justice, in our sense of it, to the gods. If
you hold a medium between affirmation and negation, by
saying, that the justice of the gods, at present, exerts
itself in part, but not in its full extent; I answer, that
you have no reason to give it any particular extent, but
only so far as you see it, at present, exert itself.
Thus I bring the dispute, O Athenians, to a short issue
with my antagonists. The course of nature lies open
to my contemplation as well as to theirs. The experi-
enced train of events is the great standard, by which we
all regulate our conduct. Nothing else can be appealed
to in the field, or in the senate. Nothing else ought ever
to be heard of in the school, or in the closet. In vain
would our limited understanding break through those
boundaries, which are too narrow for our fond imagination.
While we argue from the course of nature, and infer a
particular intelligent cause, which first bestowed, and still
preserves order in the universe, we embrace a principle,
which is both uncertain and useless. It is uncertain; be-
cause the subject lies entirely beyond the reach of human
experience. It is useless; because our knowledge of this
cause being derived entirely from the course of nature,
we can never, according to the rules of just reasoning,
return back from the cause with any new inference, or
making additions to the common and experienced course
of nature, establish any new principles of conduct and be-
haviour.
I observe (said I, finding he had finished his harangue)
that you neglect not the artifice of the demagogues of
old; and as you were pleased to make me stand for the
people, you insinuate yourself into my favour by embracing
those principles, to which, you know, I have always ex-
pressed a particular attachment. But allowing you to
make experience (as indeed I think you ought) the only
standard of our judgement concerning this, and all other
questions of fact; I doubt not but, from the very same
experience, to which you appeal, it may be possible to
refute this reasoning, which you have put into the mouth of
Epicurus. If you saw, for instance, a half-finished building,
surrounded with heaps of brick and stone and mortar,
and all the instruments of masonry; could you not infer
from the effect, that it was a work of design and con-
trivance? And could you not return again, from this in-
ferred cause, to infer new additions to the effect, and
conclude, that the building would soon be finished, and
receive all the further improvements, which art could be-
stow upon it? If you saw upon the sea-shore the print
of one human foot, you would conclude, that a man had
passed that way, and that he had also left the traces
of the other foot, though effaced by the rolling of the
sands or inundation of the waters. Why then do you
refuse to admit the same method of reasoning with regard
to the order of nature? Consider the world and the present
life only as an imperfect building, from which you can
infer a superior intelligence; and arguing from that superior
intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect; why may
you not infer a more finished scheme or plan, which will
receive its completion in some distant point of space or
time? Are not these methods of reasoning exactly similar?
And under what pretence can you embrace the one, while
you reject the other?
The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he, is
a sufficient foundation for this difference in my conclusions.
In works of human art and contrivance, it is allowable to
advance from the effect to the cause, and returning back
from the cause, to form new inferences concerning the
effect, and examine the alterations, which it has probably
undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the founda-
tion of this method of reasoning? Plainly this; that man
is a being, whom we know by experience, whose motives
and designs we are acquainted with, and whose projects
and inclinations have a certain connexion and coherence,
according to the laws which nature has established for
the government of such a creature. When, therefore,
we find, that any work has proceeded from the skill and
industry of man; as we are otherwise acquainted with
the nature of the animal, we can draw a hundred infer-
ences concerning what may be expected from him; and
these inferences will all be founded in experience and
observation. But did we know man only from the single
work or production which we examine, it were impossible
for us to argue in this manner; because our knowledge
of all the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that
case derived from the production, it is impossible they
could point to anything farther, or be the foundation of
any new inference. The print of a foot in the sand can
only prove, when considered alone, that there was some
figure adapted to it, by which it was produced: but the
print of a human foot proves likewise, from our other
experience, that there was probably another foot, which
also left its impression, though effaced by time or other
accidents. Here we mount from the effect to the cause;
and descending again from the cause, infer alterations in
the effect; but this is not a continuation of the same
simple chain of reasoning. We comprehend in this case
a hundred other experiences and observations, concerning
the usual figure and members of that species of animal,
without which this method of argument must be considered
as fallacious and sophistical.
The case is not the same with our reasonings from the
works of nature. The Deity is known to us only by his
productions, and is a single being in the universe, not
comprehended under any species or genus, from whose
experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by analogy,
infer any attribute or quality in him. As the universe
shews wisdom and goodness, we infer wisdom and good-
ness. As it shews a particular degree of these perfections,
we infer a particular degree of them, precisely adapted to
the effect which we examine. But farther attributes or
farther degrees of the same attributes, we can never be
authorised to infer or suppose, by any rules of just rea-
soning. Now, without some such licence of supposition,
it is impossible for us to argue from the cause, or infer
any alteration in the effect, beyond what has immediately
fallen under our observation. Greater good produced by
this Being must still prove a greater degree of goodness:
a more impartial distribution of rewards and punishments
must proceed from a greater regard to justice and equity.
Every supposed addition to the works of nature makes an
addition to the attributes of the Author of nature; and
consequently, being entirely unsupported by any reason or
argument, can never be admitted but as mere conjecture
and hypothesis.[4]
The great source of our mistake in this subject, and of
the unbounded licence of conjecture, which we indulge,
is, that we tacitly consider ourselves, as in the place of
the Supreme Being, and conclude, that he will, on every
occasion, observe the same conduct, which we ourselves,
in his situation, would have embraced as reasonable and
eligible. But, besides that the ordinary course of nature
may convince us, that almost everything is regulated by
principles and maxims very different from ours; besides
this, I say, it must evidently appear contrary to all rules
of analogy to reason, from the intentions and projects
of men, to those of a Being so different, and so much su-
perior. In human nature, there is a certain experienced
coherence of designs and inclinations; so that when, from
any fact, we have discovered one intention of any man, it
may often be reasonable, from experience, to infer an-
other, and draw a long chain of conclusions concerning his
past or future conduct. But this method of reasoning can
never have place with regard to a Being, so remote and in-
comprehensible, who bears much less analogy to any other
being in the universe than the sun to a waxen taper, and
who discovers himself only by some faint traces or outlines,
beyond which we have no authority to ascribe to him any
attribute or perfection. What we imagine to be a superior
perfection, may really be a defect. Or were it ever so
much a perfection, the ascribing of it to the Supreme Being,
where it appears not to have been really exerted, to the
full, in his works, savours more of flattery and panegyric,
than of just reasoning and sound philosophy. All the philo-
sophy, therefore, in the world, and all the religion, which
is nothing but a species of philosophy, will never be able to
carry us beyond the usual course of experience, or give us
measures of conduct and behaviour different from those
which are furnished by reflections on common life. No new
fact can ever be inferred from the religious hypothesis; no
event foreseen or foretold; no reward or punishment ex-
pected or dreaded, beyond what is already known by practice
and observation. So that my apology for Epicurus will still
appear solid and satisfactory; nor have the political inter-
ests of society any connexion with the philosophical dis-
putes concerning metaphysics and religion.
There is still one circumstance, replied I, which you
seem to have overlooked. Though I should allow your
premises, I must deny your conclusion. You conclude, that
religious doctrines and reasonings can have no influence on
life, because they ought to have no influence; never con-
sidering, that men reason not in the same manner you do,
but draw many consequences from the belief of a divine
Existence, and suppose that the Deity will inflict punish-
ments on vice, and bestow rewards on virtue, beyond what
appear in the ordinary course of nature. Whether this
reasoning of theirs be just or not, is no matter. Its influence
on their life and conduct must still be the same. And
those, who attempt to disabuse them of such prejudices,
may, for aught I know, be good reasoners, but I cannot
allow them to be good citizens and politicians; since they
free men from one restraint upon their passions, and make
the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more
easy and secure.
After all, I may, perhaps, agree to your general conclusion
in favour of liberty, though upon different premises from
those, on which you endeavour to found it. I think, that
the state ought to tolerate every principle of philosophy;
nor is there an instance, that any government has suffered
in its political interests by such indulgence. There is no
enthusiasm among philosophers; their doctrines are not
very alluring to the people; and no restraint can be put
upon their reasonings, but what must be of dangerous con-
sequence to the sciences, and even to the state, by paving
the way for persecution and oppression in points, where
the generality of mankind are more deeply interested and
concerned.
But there occurs to me (continued I) with regard to your
main topic, a difficulty, which I shall just propose to you
without insisting on it; lest it lead into reasonings of too
nice and delicate a nature. In a word, I much doubt
whether it be possible for a cause to be known only by its
effect (as you have all along supposed) or to be of so
singular and particular a nature as to have no parallel and
no similarity with any other cause or object, that has ever
fallen under our observation. It is only when two species of
objects are found to be constantly conjoined, that we can
infer the one from the other; and were an effect presented,
which was entirely singular, and could not be comprehended
under any known species, I do not see, that we could form
any conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If
experience and observation and analogy be, indeed, the
only guides which we can reasonably follow in inferences of
this nature; both the effect and cause must bear a similarity
and resemblance to other effects and causes, which we know,
and which we have found, in many instances, to be con-
joined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to
pursue the consequences of this principle. I shall just
observe, that, as the antagonists of Epicurus always sup-
pose the universe, an effect quite singular and unparalleled,
to be the proof of a Deity, a cause no less singular and un-
paralleled; your reasonings, upon that supposition, seem,
at least, to merit our attention. There is, I own, some dif-
ficulty, how we can ever return from the cause to the
effect, and, reasoning from our ideas of the former, infer
any alteration on the latter, or any, addition to it.
[1] Luciani, [3 greek words].
[2] Luciani, [greek word].
[3] Luciani and Dio.
[4] In general, it may, I think, Be established as a maxim, that where any
cause is known only by its particular effects, it must be impossible to infer
any new effects from that cause; since the qualities, which are requisite to
produce these new effects along with the former, must either be different,
or superior, or of more extensive operation, than those which simply pro-
duced the effect, whence alone the cause is supposed to be known to us.
We can never, therefore, have any reason to suppose the existence of these
qualities. To say, that the new effects proceed only from a continuation
of the same energy, which is already known from the first effects, will not
remove the difficulty. For even granting this to be the case (which can
seldom be supposed), the very continuation and exertion of a like energy
(for it is impossible it can be absolutely the same), I say, this exertion
of a like energy, in a different period of space and time, is a very arbitrary
supposition, and what there cannot possibly be any traces of it in the effects,
from which all our knowledge of the cause is originally derived. Let the
inferred cause be exactly proportioned (as it should be) to the known
effect; and it is impossible that it can possess any qualities, from which new
or different effects can be inferred.
SECTION XII
OF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEPTICAL PHILOSOPHY
PART I
THERE is not a greater number of philosophical reason-
ings, displayed upon any subject, than those, which
prove the existence of a Deity, and refute the falla-
cies of Atheists; and yet the most religious philosophers
still dispute whether any man can be so blinded as to be a
speculative atheist. How shall we reconcile these contra-
dictions? The knights errant, who wandered about to
clear the world of dragons and giants, never entertained
the least doubt with regard to the existence of these
monsters.
The Sceptic is another enemy of religion, who naturally
provokes the indignation of all divines and graver philoso-
phers; though it is certain, that no man ever met with any
such absurd creature, or conversed with a man, who had no
opinion or principle concerning any subject, either of action
or speculation. This begets a very natural question; What
is meant by a sceptic? And how far it is possible to push
these philosophical principles of doubt and uncertainty?
There is a species of scepticism, antecedent to all study
and philosophy, which is much inculcated by Des Cartes
and others, as a sovereign preservative against error and
precipitate judgement. It recommends an universal doubt,
not only of all our former opinions and principles, but also
of our very faculties; of whose veracity, say they, we must
assure ourselves, by a chain of reasoning, deduced from some
original principle, which cannot possibly be fallacious or
deceitful. But neither is there any such original principle,
which has a prerogative above others, that are self-evident
and convincing: or if there were, could we advance a step
beyond it, but by the use of those very faculties, of which
we are supposed to be already diffident. The Cartesian
doubt, therefore, were it ever possible to be attained by any
human creature (as it plainly is not) would be entirely in-
curable; and no reasoning could ever bring us to a state
of assurance and conviction upon any subject.
It must, however, be confessed, that this species of scep-
ticism, when more moderate, may be understood in a very
reasonable sense, and is a necessary preparative to the study
of philosophy, by preserving a proper impartiality in our
judgements, and weaning our mind from all those preju-
dices, which we may have imbibed from education or rash
opinion. To begin with clear and self-evident principles, to
advance by timorous and sure steps, to review frequently
our conclusions, and examine accurately all their conse-
quences; though by these means we shall make both a slow
and a short progress in our systems; are the only methods,
by which we can ever hope to reach truth, and attain a
proper stability and certainty in our determinations.
There is another species of scepticism, consequent to
science and enquiry, when men are supposed to have dis-
covered, either the absolute fallaciousness of their mental
faculties, or their unfitness to reach any fixed determination
in all those curious subjects of speculation, about which
they are commonly employed. Even our very senses are
brought into dispute, by a certain species of philosophers;
and the maxims of common life are subjected to the same
doubt as the most profound principles or conclusions of
metaphysics and theology. As these paradoxical tenets
(if they may be called tenets) are to be met with in some
philosophers, and the refutation of them in several, they
naturally excite our curiosity, and make us enquire into the
arguments, on which they may be founded.
I need not insist upon the more trite topics, employed by
the sceptics in all ages, against the evidence of sense; such
as those which are derived from the imperfection and
fallaciousness of our organs, on numberless occasions; the
crooked appearance of an oar in water; the various aspects
of objects, according to their different distances; the double
images which arise from the pressing one eye; with many
other appearances of a like nature. These sceptical topics,
indeed, are only sufficient to prove, that the senses alone
are not implicitly to be depended on; but that we must
correct their evidence by reason, and by considerations,
derived from the nature of the medium, the distance of the
object, and the disposition of the organ, in order to render
them, within their sphere, the proper criteria of truth and
falsehood. There are other more profound arguments
against the senses, which admit not of so easy a solution.
It seems evident, that men are carried, by a natural
instinct or prepossession, to repose faith in their senses;
and that, without any reasoning, or even almost before the
use of reason, we always suppose an external universe,
which depends not on our perception, but would exist,
though we and every sensible creature were absent or an-
nihilated. Even the animal creation are governed by a
like opinion, and preserve this belief of external objects,
in all their thoughts, designs, and actions.
It seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind
and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the
very images, presented by the senses, to be the external
objects, and never entertain any suspicion, that the one are
nothing but representations of the other. This very table,
which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed to
exist, independent of our perception, and to be something
external to our mind, which perceives it. Our presence
bestows not being on it: our absence does not annihilate
it. It preserves its existence uniform and entire, independ-
ent of the situation of intelligent beings, who perceive
or contemplate it.
But this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon
destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us, that
nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or
perception, and that the senses are only the inlets, through
which these images are conveyed, without being able to
produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and
the object. The table, which we see, seems to diminish,
as we remove farther from it: but the real table, which
exists independent of us, suffers no alteration: it was, there-
fore, nothing but its image, which was present to the mind.
These are the obvious dictates of reason; and no man,
who reflects, ever doubted, that the existences, which we
consider, when we say, this house and that tree, are nothing
but perceptions in the mind, and fleeting copies or represen-
tations of other existences, which remain uniform and inde-
pendent.
So far, then, are we necessitated by reasoning to con-
tradict or depart from the primary instincts of nature, and
to embrace a new system with regard to the evidence of our
senses. But here philosophy finds herself extremely em-
barrassed, when she would justify this new system, and
obviate the cavils and objections of the sceptics. She can
no longer plead the infallible and irresistible instinct of
nature: for that led us to a quite different system, which is
acknowledged fallible and even erroneous. And to justify
this pretended philosophical system, by a chain of clear
and convincing argument, or even any appearance of argu-
ment, exceeds the power of all human capacity.
By what argument can it be proved, that the perceptions
of the mind must be caused by external objects, entirely
different from them, though resembling them (if that be
possible) and could not arise either from the energy of the
mind itself, or from the suggestion of some invisible and
unknown spirit, or from some other cause still more un-
known to us? It is acknowledged, that, in fact, many of
these perceptions arise not from anything external, as in
dreams, madness, and other diseases. And nothing can be
more inexplicable than the manner, in which body should
so operate upon mind as ever to convey an image of itself
to a substance, supposed of so different, and even contrary
a nature.
It is a question of fact, whether the perceptions of the
senses be produced by external objects, resembling them:
how shall this question be determined? By experience
surely; as all other questions of a like nature. But here
experience is, and must be entirely silent. The mind has
never anything present to it but the perceptions, and cannot
possibly reach any experience of their connexion with ob-
jects. The supposition of such a connexion is, therefore,
without any foundation in reasoning.
To have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being,
in order to prove the veracity of our senses, is surely
making a very unexpected circuit. If his veracity were at
all concerned in this matter, our senses would be entirely
infallible; because it is not possible that he can ever
deceive. Not to mention, that, if the external world be
once called in question, we shall be at a loss to find argu-
ments, by which we may prove the existence of that Being
or any of his attributes.
This is a topic, therefore, in which the profounder and
more philosophical sceptics will always triumph, when they
endeavour to introduce an universal doubt into all subjects
of human knowledge and enquiry. Do you follow the in-
stincts and propensities of nature, may they say, in assenting
to the veracity of sense? But these lead you to believe
that the very perception or sensible image is the external
object. Do you disclaim this principle, in order to embrace
a more rational opinion, that the perceptions are only
representations of something external? You here depart
from your natural propensities and more obvious senti-
ments; and yet are not able to satisfy your reason, which
can never find any convincing argument from experience to
prove, that the perceptions are connected with any external
objects.
There is another sceptical topic of a like nature, derived
from the most profound philosophy; which might merit
our attention, were it requisite to dive so deep, in order
to discover arguments and reasonings, which can so little
serve to any serious purpose. It is universally allowed
by modern enquirers, that all the sensible qualities of ob-
jects, such as hard, soft, hot, cold, white, black, &c. are
merely secondary, and exist not in the objects themselves,
but are perceptions of the mind, without any external
archetype or model, which they represent. If this be al-
lowed, with regard to secondary qualities, it must also
follow, with regard to the supposed primary qualities of
extension and solidity; nor can the latter be any more
entitled to that denomination than the former. The idea
of extension is entirely acquired from the senses of sight
and feeling; and if all the qualities, perceived by the
senses, be in the mind, not in the object, the same con-
clusion must reach the idea of extension, which is wholly
dependent on the sensible ideas or the ideas of secondary
qualities. Nothing can save us from this conclusion, but
the asserting, that the ideas of those primary qualities are
attained by Abstraction, an opinion, which, if we examine it
accurately, we shall find to be unintelligible, and even absurd.
An extension, that is neither tangible nor visible, cannot
possibly be conceived: and a tangible or visible extension,
which is neither hard nor soft, black nor white, is equally
beyond the reach of human conception. Let any man try
to conceive a triangle in general, which is neither Isosceles
nor Scalenum, nor has any particular length or proportion
of sides; and he will soon perceive the absurdity of all the
scholastic notions with regard to abstraction and general
ideas.[1]
Thus the first philosophical objection to the evidence of
sense or to the opinion of external existence consists in
this, that such an opinion, if rested on natural instinct, is
contrary to reason, and if referred to reason, is contrary to
natural instinct, and at the same time carries no rational
evidence with it, to convince an impartial enquirer. The
second objection goes farther, and represents this opinion
as contrary to reason: at least, if it be a principle of reason,
that all sensible qualities are in the mind, not in the object.
Bereave matter of all its intelligible qualities, both primary
and secondary, you in a manner annihilate it, and leave
only a certain unknown, inexplicable something, as the cause
of our perceptions; a notion so imperfect, that no sceptic
will think it worth while to contend against it.
PART II
IT may seem a very extravagant attempt of the sceptics
to destroy reason by argument and ratiocination; yet is
this the grand scope of all their enquiries and disputes.
They endeavour to find objections, both to our abstract
reasonings, and to those which regard matter of fact and
existence.
The chief objection against all abstract reasonings is
derived from the ideas of space and time; ideas, which, in
common life and to a careless view, are very clear and
intelligible, but when they pass through the scrutiny of the
profound sciences (and they are the chief object of these
sciences) afford principles, which seem full of absurdity and
contradiction. No priestly dogmas, invented on purpose to
tame and subdue the rebellious reason of mankind, ever
shocked common sense more than the doctrine of the
infinitive divisibility of extension, with its consequences;
as they are pompously displayed by all geometricians and
metaphysicians, with a kind of triumph and exultation. A
real quantity, infinitely less than any finite quantity, con-
taining quantities infinitely less than itself, and so on in
infinitum; this is an edifice so bold and prodigious, that it
is too weighty for any pretended demonstration to support,
because it shocks the clearest and most natural principles
of human reason.[2] But what renders the matter more
extraordinary, is, that these seemingly absurd opinions are
supported by a chain of reasoning, the clearest and most
natural; nor is it possible for us to allow the premises
without admitting the consequences. Nothing can be more
convincing and satisfactory than all the conclusions con-
cerning the properties of circles and triangles; and yet,
when these are once received, how can we deny, that the
angle of contact between a circle and its tangent is infinitely
less than any rectilineal angle, that as you may increase the
diameter of the circle in infinitum, this angle of contact
becomes still less, even in infinitum, and that the angle
of contact between other curves and their tangents may be
infinitely less than those between any circle and its tangent,
and so on, in infinitum? The demonstration of these prin-
ciples seems as unexceptionable as that which proves the
three angles of a triangle to be equal to two right ones,
though the latter opinion be natural and easy, and the
former big with contradiction and absurdity. Reason here
seems to be thrown into a kind of amazement and sus-
pence, which, without the suggestions of any sceptic, gives
her a diffidence of herself, and of the ground on which
she treads. She sees a full light, which illuminates certain
places; but that light borders upon the most profound
darkness. And between these she is so dazzled and con-
founded, that she scarcely can pronounce with certainty and
assurance concerning any one object.
The absurdity of these bold determinations of the ab-
stract sciences seems to become, if possible, still more
palpable with regard to time than extension. An infinite
number of real parts of time, passing in succession, and
exhausted one after another, appears so evident a contra-
diction, that no man, one should think, whose judgement
is not corrupted, instead of being improved, by the sciences,
would ever be able to admit of it.
Yet still reason must remain restless, and unquiet, even
with regard to that scepticism, to which she is driven by
these seeming absurdities and contradictions. How any
clear, distinct idea can contain circumstances, contradictory
to itself, or to any other clear, distinct idea, is absolutely
incomprehensible; and is, perhaps, as absurd as any propo-
sition, which can be formed. So that nothing can be
more sceptical, or more full of doubt and hesitation,
than this scepticism itself, which arises from some of the
paradoxical conclusions of geometry or the science of
quantity.[3]
The sceptical objections to moral evidence, or to the
reasonings concerning matter of fact, are either popular or
philosophical. The popular objections are derived from the
natural weakness of human understanding; the contra-
dictory opinions, which have been entertained in different
ages and nations; the variations of our judgement in sick-
ness and health, youth and old age, prosperity and adver-
sity; the perpetual contradiction of each particular man's
opinions and sentiments; with many other topics of that
kind. It is needless to insist farther on this head. These
objections are but weak. For as, in common life, we reason
every moment concerning fact and existence, and cannot
possibly subsist, without continually employing this species
of argument, any popular objections, derived from thence,
must be insufficient to destroy that evidence. The great
subverter of Pyrrhonism or the excessive principles of
scepticism is action, and employment, and the occupations
of common life. These principles may flourish and triumph
in the schools; where it is, indeed, difficult, if not impossible,
to refute them. But as soon as they leave the shade, and
by the presence of the real objects, which actuate our
passions and sentiments, are put in opposition to the more
powerful principles of our nature, they vanish like smoke,
and leave the most determined sceptic in the same condition
as other mortals.
The sceptic, therefore, had better keep within his proper
sphere, and display those philosophical objections, which
arise from more profound researches. Here he seems to
have ample matter of triumph; while he justly insists, that
all our evidence for any matter of fact, which lies beyond the
testimony of sense or memory, is derived entirely from the
relation of cause and effect; that we have no other idea
of this relation than that of two objects, which have been
frequently conjoined together; that we have no argument to
convince us, that objects, which have, in our experience,
been frequently conjoined, will likewise, in other instances,
be conjoined in the same manner; and that nothing leads
us to this inference but custom or a certain instinct of our
nature; which it is indeed difficult to resist, but which,
like other instincts, may be fallacious and deceitful. While
the sceptic insists upon these topics, he shows his force, or
rather, indeed, his own and our weakness; and seems, for
the time at least, to destroy all assurance and conviction.
These arguments might be displayed at greater length,
if any durable good or benefit to society could ever be
expected to result from them.
For here is the chief and most confounding objection to
excessive scepticism, that no durable good can ever result
from it; while it remains in its full force and vigour. We
need only ask such a sceptic, What his meaning is? And
what he proposes by all these curious researches? He is
immediately at a loss, and knows not what to answer.
A Copernican or Ptolemaic, who supports each his different
system of astronomy, may hope to produce a conviction,
which will remain constant and durable, with his audience.
A Stoic or Epicurean displays principles, which may not
be durable, but which have an effect on conduct and be-
haviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot expect, that his philos-
ophy will have any constant influence on the mind: or if
it had, that its influence would be beneficial to society. On
the contrary, he must acknowledge, if he will acknowledge
anything, that all human life must perish, were his principles
universally and steadily to prevail. All discourse, all action
would immediately cease; and men remain in a total lethargy,
till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end to their
miserable existence. It is true; so fatal an event is very little
to be dreaded. Nature is always too strong for principle.
And though a Pyrrhonian may throw himself or others into
a momentary amazement and confusion by his profound
reasonings; the first and most trivial event in life will
put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and leave him the
same, in every point of action and speculation, with the
philosophers of every other sect, or with those who never
concerned themselves in any philosophical researches.
When he awakes from his dream, he will be the first to join
in the laugh against himself, and to confess, that all his
objections are mere amusement, and can have no other
tendency than to show the whimsical condition of mankind,
who must act and reason and believe; though they are not
able, by their most diligent enquiry, to satisfy themselves
concerning the foundation of these operations, or to remove
the objections, which may be raised against them.
PART III
THERE is, indeed, a more mitigated scepticism or academ-
ical philosophy, which may be both durable and useful, and
which may, in part, be the result of this Pyrrhonism, or
excessive scepticism, when its undistinguished doubts are,
in some measure, corrected by common sense and reflection.
The greater part of mankind are naturally apt to be affirm-
ative and dogmatical in their opinions; and while they see
objects only on one side, and have no idea of any counter-
poising argument, they throw themselves precipitately into
the principles, to which they are inclined; nor have they
any indulgence for those who entertain opposite sentiments.
To hesitate or balance perplexes their understanding, checks
their passion, and suspends their action. They are, there-
fore, impatient till they escape from a state, which to them
is so uneasy: and they think, that they could never remove
themselves far enough from it, by the violence of their
affirmations and obstinacy of their belief. But could such
dogmatical reasoners become sensible of the strange in-
firmities of human understanding, even in its most perfect
state, and when most accurate and cautious in its determina-
tions; such a reflection would naturally inspire them with
more modesty and reserve, and diminish their fond opinion
of themselves, and their prejudice against antagonists. The
illiterate may reflect on the disposition of the learned, who,
amidst all the advantages of study and reflection, are com-
monly still diffident in their determinations: and if any
of the learned be inclined, from their natural temper, to
haughtiness and obstinacy, a small tincture of Pyrrhonism
might abate their pride, by showing them, that the few ad-
vantages, which they may have attained over their fellows,
are but inconsiderable, if compared with the universal per-
plexity and confusion, which is inherent in human nature.
In general, there is a degree of doubt, and caution, and
modesty, which, in all kinds of scrutiny and decision, ought
for ever to accompany a just reasoner.
Another species of mitigated scepticism which may be
of advantage to mankind, and which may be the natural
result of the Pyrrhonian doubts and scruples, is the limita-
tion of our enquiries to such subjects as are best adapted to
the narrow capacity of human understanding. The imagina-
tion of man is naturally sublime, delighted with whatever is
remote and extraordinary, and running, without control,
into the most distant parts of space and time in order to
avoid the objects, which custom has rendered too familiar
to it. A correct Judgement observes a contrary method, and
avoiding all distant and high enquiries, confines itself to
common life, and to such subjects as fall under daily prac-
tice and experience; leaving the more sublime topics to the
embellishment of poets and orators, or to the arts of priests
and politicians. To bring us to so salutary a determination,
nothing can be more serviceable, than to be once thoroughly
convinced of the force of the Pyrrhonian doubt, and of the
impossibility, that anything, but the strong power of natural
instinct, could free us from it. Those who have a propensity
to philosophy, will still continue their researches; because
they reflect, that, besides the immediate pleasure attending
such an occupation, philosophical decisions are nothing but
the reflections of common life, methodized and corrected.
But they will never be tempted to go beyond common life,
so long as they consider the imperfection of those faculties
which they employ, their narrow reach, and their inaccurate
operations. While we cannot give a satisfactory reason, why
we believe, after a thousand experiments, that a stone will
fall, or fire burn; can we ever satisfy ourselves concerning
any determination, which we may form, with regard to the
origin of worlds, and the situation of nature, from, and to
eternity?
This narrow limitation, indeed, of our enquiries, is, in
every respect, so reasonable, that it suffices to make the
slightest examination into the natural powers of the human
mind and to compare them with their objects, in order to
recommend it to us. We shall then find what are the proper
subjects of science and enquiry.
It seems to me, that the only objects of the abstract
science or of demonstration are quantity and number, and
that all attempts to extend this more perfect species of
knowledge beyond these bounds are mere sophistry and
illusion. As the component parts of quantity and number
are entirely similar, their relations become intricate and
involved; and nothing can be more curious, as well as
useful, than to trace, by a variety of mediums, their equality
or inequality, through their different appearances. But as
all other ideas are clearly distinct and different from each
other, we can never advance farther, by our utmost scrutiny,
than to observe this diversity, and, by an obvious reflection,
pronounce one thing not to be another. Or if there be any
difficulty in these decisions, it proceeds entirely from the
undeterminate meaning of words, which is corrected by
juster definitions. That the square of the hypothenuse is
equal to the squares of the other two sides, cannot be known,
let the terms be ever so exactly defined, without a train of
reasoning and enquiry. But to convince us of this propo-
sition, that where there is no property, there can be no in-
justice, it is only necessary to define the terms, and explain
injustice to be a violation of property. This proposition is,
indeed, nothing but a more imperfect definition. It is the
same case with all those pretended syllogistical reasonings,
which may be found in every other branch of learning,
except the sciences of quantity and number; and these may
safely, I think, be pronounced the only proper objects of
knowledge and demonstration.
All other enquiries of men regard only matter of fact and
existence; and these are evidently incapable of demon-
stration. Whatever is may not be. No negation of a fact
can involve a contradiction. The non-existence of any
being, without exception, is as clear and distinct an idea
as its existence. The proposition, which affirms it not
to be, however false, is no less conceivable and intelligible,
than that which affirms it to be. The case is different
with the sciences, properly so called. Every proposition,
which is not true, is there confused and unintelligible. That
the cube root of 64 is equal to the half of 10, is a false
proposition, and can never be distinctly conceived. But
that Caesar, or the angel Gabriel, or any being never ex-
isted, may be a false proposition, but still is perfectly con-
ceivable, and implies no contradiction.
The existence, therefore, of any being can only be proved
by arguments from its cause or its effect; and these argu-
ments are founded entirely on experience. If we reason
a priori, anything may appear able to produce anything.
The falling of a pebble may, for aught we know, extinguish
the sun; or the wish of a man control the planets in their
orbits. It is only experience, which teaches us the nature
and bounds of cause and effect, and enables us to infer the
existence of one object from that of another.[4] Such is the
foundation of moral reasoning, which forms the greater part
of human knowledge, and is the source of all human action
and behaviour.
Moral reasonings are either concerning particular or gen-
eral facts. All deliberations in life regard the former;
as also all disquisitions in history, chronology, geography,
and astronomy.
The sciences, which treat of general facts, are politics,
natural philosophy, physic, chemistry, &c. where the quali-
ties, causes and effects of a whole species of objects are
enquired into.
Divinity or Theology, as it proves the existence of a
Deity, and the immortality of souls, is composed partly
of reasonings concerning particular, partly concerning gen-
eral facts. It has a foundation in reason, so far as it is
supported by experience. But its best and most solid
foundation is faith and divine revelation.
Morals and criticism are not so properly objects of the
understanding as of taste and sentiment. Beauty, whether
moral or natural, is felt, more properly than perceived.
Or if we reason concerning it, and endeavour to fix its
standard, we regard a new fact, to wit, the general tastes of
mankind, or some such fact, which may be the object of
reasoning and enquiry.
When we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles,
what havoc must we make? If we take in our hand any
volume; of divinity or school metaphysics, for instance;
let us ask, Does it contain any abstract reasoning concern-
ing quantity or number? No. Does it contain any experi-
mental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence?
No. Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain
nothing but sophistry and illusion.
[1] This argument is drawn from Dr. Berkeley; and indeed most of the
writings of that very ingenious author form the best lessons of scepticism,
which are to be found either among the ancient or modern philosophers,
Bayle not excepted. He professes, however, in his title-page (and undoubt-
edly with great truth) to have composed his book against the sceptics as
well as against the atheists and free-thinkers. But that all his arguments,
though otherwise intended, are, in reality, merely sceptical, appears from
this, that they admit of no answer and produce no conviction. Their only
effect is to cause that momentary amazement and irresolution and confu-
sion, which is the result of scepticism.
[2] Whatever disputes there may be about the mathematical points, we must
allow that there are physical points; that is, parts of extension, which can-
not be divided or lessened, either by the eye or imagination. These images,
then, which are present to the fancy or senses, are absolutely indivisible,
and consequently must be allowed by mathematicians to be infinitely less
than any real part of extension; and yet nothing appears more certain to
reason, than that an infinite number of them composes an infinite extension.
How much more an infinite number of those infinitely small parts of exten-
sion, which are still supposed infinitely divisible.
[3] It seems to be not impossible to avoid these absurdities and contradic-
tions, if it be admitted, that there is no such thing as abstract or general
ideas, properly speaking; but that all general ideas are, in reality, particular
ones, attached to a general term, which recalls, upon occasion, other par-
ticular ones, that resemble, in certain circumstances, the idea, present to
the mind. Thus when the term Horse is pronounced, we immediately figure
to ourselves the idea of a black or a white animal, of a particular size or
figure: But as that term is also usually applied to animals of other colours,
figures and sizes, these ideas, though not actually present to the imagina-
tion, are easily recalled; and our reasoning and conclusion proceed in the
same way, as if they were actually present. If this be admitted (as seems
reasonable) it follows that all the ideas of quantity, upon which mathema-
ticians reason, are nothing but particular, and such as are suggested by the
senses and imagination, and consequently, cannot be infinitely divisible. It
is sufficient to have dropped this hint at present, without prosecuting it
any farther. It certainly concerns all lovers of science not to expose them-
selves to the ridicule and contempt of the ignorant by their conclusions;
and this seems the readiest solution of these difficulties.
[4] That impious maxim of the ancient philosophy, Ex nihilo, nihil fit, by
which the creation of matter was excluded, ceases to be a maxim, accord-
ing to this philosophy. Not only the will of the supreme Being may create
matter; but, for aught, we know a priori, the will of any other being might
create it, or any other cause, that the most whimsical imagination can assign.