Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion

                                

                           David Hume

                                

                              1779

                                

                                

                             * * * *

                                

Copyright 1997, James Fieser (jfieser@utm.edu). See end note for

details on copyright and editing conventions. This e-text is

based on the 1779 edition of Hume's Dialogues and was

electronically compared to a commercial e-text of the Dialogues.

Visual comparisons were also made to other recent printed

editions. Spelling has been modernized according to British

spelling conventions; punctuation has not been modernized. Small

capitalization has been consistently applied to proper names. See

end note for details on copyright.1



                             * * * *





                      EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION

                                

                          James Fieser

                                

     Hume's Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion ranks among the

greatest writings in the history of Western philosophy. The work

addresses the sensitive issue of the knowledge we have of God

through reason alone, and, in the process, Hume presents

arguments which undermine the classic proofs for God's existence.

The arguments in the Dialogues assume an important 18th century

distinction between natural religion and revealed religion.

Natural religion involves knowledge of God drawn from nature,

solely by the use of reasoning. Often this involves drawing

conclusions about the natural design we see in the universe.

Revealed religion, on the other hand, involves religious

knowledge derived from revelation, specifically divinely inspired

texts such as the Bible. From his earliest writings, Hume

attacked both of these alleged avenues of religious truth. In the

Treatise of Human Nature (1739-40), published when he was 27,

Hume attacks natural religion arguing that our ideas reach no

farther than our experience; since we have no experience of

divine attributes and operations, then we can have no conception

of divine attributes. In his infamous essay on miracles from An

Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748), Hume goes a step

further and attacks revealed religion. He argues that it is never

reasonable to believe in violations of natural laws, such as

reports of miracles and prophecies, which in turn are the

foundations of revealed religion. Given the rational bankruptcy

of both natural and revealed religion, what remains, for Hume, is

what he calls vulgar religion. Vulgar religion is the religious

belief of the masses, and we understand this by uncovering the

true psychological causes of these beliefs, such as emotions and

instincts. He examines vulgar religion in his Natural History of

Religion (1757), a work he composed simultaneously with the

Dialogues. The Dialogues, though, deals exclusively with the

subject of natural religion and in this work Hume offers his most

systematic critique of the subject.



     THE CHARACTERS OF THE DIALOGUES. Hume's decision to compose

this work in dialog form is significant. During the 18th century,

Great Britain was among the most free countries in Europe, and

political authorities allowed a great amount of unobstructed

expression. However, religious leaders believed that rational

proofs for God's existence were almost as integral to

Christianity as the Bible itself. Accordingly, officials viewed

direct attacks on natural theology as an abuse of free

expression. To avoid political confrontation, Hume adopted the

common literary technique of presenting controversial arguments

in dialog form. There are three principal characters in Hume's

Dialogues. On the conservative side of the issue, a character

named Cleanthes offers a posteriori arguments for God's

existence, particularly the design argument:



     (a) Machines are produced by intelligent design

     (b) Universe resembles a machine

     (c) Therefore, the universe was produced by intelligent

     design



The design argument rests on an analogy between the design we

recognize in human-created artifacts and similar design we

recognize in the universe. This similarity of design entitles us

to conclude that the universe was likewise created by intelligent

design. Most of the Dialogues focuses on aspects of the design

argument. Next, a character named Demea prefers a priori

arguments for God's existence, particularly Leibniz's

cosmological argument:



     (a) The world contains an infinite sequence of contingent

     facts;

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

     infinite series, which goes beyond an explanation of each

     member in the series;

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

     the series itself, since the very fact of its existence

     would still need an explanation (principle of sufficient

     reason)

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

     this infinite series, and which is the complete explanation

     of its own existence as well.



Earlier defenders of cosmological-type arguments, such as

Aquinas, argued that an infinite series of causes of the universe

is impossible. Thus, a first divine cause is required to start

this series of individual causes. However, Demea (and Leibniz)

assume that an infinite series of causes of the universe is

possible. Even so, Demea argues, we still need an explanation of

the entire collection of finite causes, which must be found

outside of the infinite collection of individual causes.



     Finally, a character named Philo is a skeptic who argues

against both a posteriori and a priori proofs. Philo offers a

stream of criticisms against the design argument, many of which

are now standard in discussions of the issue. For Philo, the

design argument is based on a faulty analogy: we don't know

whether the order in nature was the result of design since,

unlike our experience with the creation of machines, we did not

witness the formation of the world. The vastness of the universe

also weakens any comparison with a human artifacts: although the

universe is orderly here, it may be chaotic elsewhere. Similarly,

if intelligent design is exhibited only in a small fraction of

the universe, then we can not say it is the productive force of

the whole universe. Philo also contends that natural design may

be accounted for by nature alone, insofar as matter contains

within itself a principle of order. And even if the design of the

universe is of divine origin, we are not justified in concluding

that this divine cause is a single, all powerful, or all good

being. As to the cosmological argument, Philo argues that once we

have a sufficient explanation for each particular fact in the

infinite sequence of facts, it makes no sense to inquire about

the origin of the collection of these facts. That is, once we

adequately account for each individual fact, this constitutes a

sufficient explanation of the whole collection.



     The three characters in Hume's Dialogues are loosely based

on characters in Cicero's classic dialog, On the Nature of the

Gods and we may reasonably assume that Hume's audience recognized

this. In Cicero's dialog, a character named Cotta was a religious

skeptic, and his teacher was named Philo. Second, a character

named Balbus voiced an orthodox Stoic view of the gods, and

Balbus's teacher was named Cleanthes. Finally a character named

Velleius presented a third Epicurean view. Cicero himself

introduced and concluded his dialog, declaring Balbus the winner.

In Hume's dialog, too, the narrator declares the orthodox

Cleanthes the winner over the skeptical Philo. For Cicero, the

main issue of the dialog is not so much the existence of the

gods, but the nature of the gods, and whether they intervene.

However, for Hume the existence of God is the most prominent

issue.



     PUBLICATION OF THE DIALOGUES. Hume began work on the

Dialogues in about 1751. He apparently revised the manuscript

about 10 years later, and probably again in 1776 prior to his

death. During the last few months of his life, Hume scrambled to

make arrangements for the publication of his manuscript, which

ultimately appeared in print three years later in 1779. For more

than 100 years, the 1779 publication was the basis for other

printed editions of the Dialogues. However, because Hume did not

oversee the 1779 publication, more recent editions return to the

original manuscript, which is in the possession of the Royal

Society of Edinburgh and is currently available on microfilm.

Differences between the 1779 edition and more recent ones are

insignificant, although recent editions contain annotations which

describe the various revisions Hume made to the manuscript. In

his correspondences, Hume left an interesting paper trail

pertaining to the composition and ultimate publication of the

Dialogues. The first indication of the manuscript is in the

following letter to Gilbert Elliot of Minto, in which Hume asks

Elliot to review some "sample" parts of the manuscript (probably

Parts 1-4 from the final 12 sections):



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

     make Cleanthes the Hero of the Dialogue. Whatever you can

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

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

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

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

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

     about any Question of Importance, to write alternately the

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     have not reach'd an absolute philosophical Indifference on

     these Points. What Danger can ever come from ingenious

     Reasoning & Enquiry? The worst speculative Sceptic ever I

     knew, was a much better Man than the best superstitious

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

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

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

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

     Mind towards it, unless that Propensity were as strong &

     universal as that to believe in our Senses & Experience,

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

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

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

     happy, & the Confusion in which I represent the Sceptic

     seems natural. [March 10, 1751]



Three things are particularly noteworthy in the above passage.

First, from the start Hume tries to portray Cleanthes as the

"hero" or winner of the dialog. Second, Hume notes his conscious

attempt to present all sides of the dispute in their strongest

light, and thereby elevate the literary quality of the piece.

Third, Hume argues that no public harm will result from

considering Philo's skeptical arguments.



     Between 1751 and 1761 Hume worked on and further circulated

his manuscript; however, at least one friend discouraged him from

publishing it, presumably for political reasons. Hume thus set

the project aside, and took it up again in 1776 when he found

himself terminally ill. To secure its publication, Hume included

in his Will the following request to Adam Smith:



     To my friend Dr Adam Smith, late Professor of Moral

     Philosophy in Glasgow, I leave all my manuscripts without

     exception, desiring him to publish my Dialogues concerning

     Natural Religion, which are comprehended in this present

     bequest; but to publish no other papers which he suspects

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

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

     power over all my papers, except the Dialogues above

     mentioned; and though I can trust to that intimate and

     sincere friendship, which has ever subsisted between us, for

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

     small recompense of his pains in correcting and publishing

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

     immediately after the publication of it. [January 1776]



In spite of Smith's assigned task, Smith felt that the Dialogues

should remain unpublished even after Hume's death. Smith himself

was a closet religious skeptic, and his hesitation was motivated

more by practical concern rather than religious piety. Smith

communicated his reluctance to Hume and, accordingly, in the

following letter to Smith, Hume relinquished Smith of the

immediate responsibility of publishing them:



     After reflecting more maturely on that Article of my Will by

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

     Request that you shou'd publish my Dialogues concerning

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

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

     may be improper to hurry on that Publication. I therefore

     take the present Opportunity of qualifying that friendly

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

     Discretion at what time you will publish that Piece, or

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



In the above, Hume leaves it to Smith's discretion as to when the

Dialogues should be published. But Hume quickly became

uncomfortable with this arrangement and, a month later, asked his

long time publisher, William Strahan, to arrange for its

immediate publication:



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

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

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

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

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

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

     all Clamour: For though it be not more exceptionable than

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

     these were thought very exceptionable; and in prudence,

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

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

     Argument, nay confesses that he was only amusing himself by

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

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

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

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

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

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

     together with the literary Property of the whole, provided

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

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

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

     and You and Mr Cadell have publickly avowed your Publication

     of the Enquiry concerning human Understanding, I know no

     Reason why you shoud have the least Scruple with regard to

     these Dialogues. They will be much less obnoxious to the

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

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

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

     the Desire of a dead Friend, will render the publication

     still more excusable. Mallet never sufferd any thing by

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



In the above, Hume acknowledges that the publication of the

Dialogues might cause some clamor because of the severity of

Philo's arguments. Again, though, he attempts to diffuse the

issue by commenting that his Dialogues are less extreme than his

Enquiry, presumably meaning his essay on miracles.



     Unfortunately, Hume's illness progressed to the point that

he would not live to see this modest printing of the Dialogues.

In an addendum to his will, Hume requested that his nephew, Baron

David Hume, see to the publication of the Dialogues if Strahan

failed:



     I desire, that my Dialogues concerning natural Religion may

     be printed and published any time within two Years after my

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

     proper, the two Essays formerly printed but not published.

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

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

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

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

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



A week later, though, Hume considered making additional plans to

secure the survival of the Dialogues. In a letter to Adam Smith

(August 15) he notes his intentions to have two additional copies

made of his manuscript, one entrusted to his Nephew, and the

other to Smith.  Two days before his death, Hume dictated a final

letter to Smith:



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

     to you as I do not rise to day.

          There is No Man in whom I have a greater Confidence

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

     Manuscript to my Nephew David in case by any accident it

     should not be published within three years after my decease.

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

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

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

     this Circumstance. [August 23, 1776]



A week after Hume's death, Strahan received the manuscript of

Hume's Dialogues. In a letter to Strahan, Smith continued voicing

his belief that the manuscript should remain unpublished:



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

     remained in manuscript to be communicated only to a few

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

     without my giving you the trouble of reading them in a

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

     had perswaded him to leave it entirely to my discretion

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

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

     manuscript should have been most carefully preserved and

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

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



Smith continues in the above letter attempting to persuade

Strahan to at least publish the Dialogues in an edition separate

from Hume's forthcoming short autobiography. Strahan apparently

agreed, and the autobiography was published separately in 1777.

Smith wrote him the following note of thanks to Strahan,

explaining how sales of Hume's other works might be enhanced by

properly timing the release of the Dialogues:



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

     the life together with my additions separate from the

     Dialogues. I even flatter myself that this arrangement will

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

     clamour against the Dialogues, if published first, might

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

     and when the clamour has a little subsided the Dialogues may

     hereafter occasion a quicker sale of another edition.

     [October, 1776]



Almost a half of a year later, Strahan was still undecided about

whether he would even assume the task of publishing Hume's

Dialogues. In the following letter to Hume's nephew, Strahan

explains that it might appear better if it was published by the

nephew himself.



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

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

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

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

     publication will probably make some noise in the world, and

     its tendency be considered in different lights by different

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

     From you some will conclude it comes with propriety as done

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

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

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

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

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

     long in suspense, as you shall soon have my final

     resolution. [February 3, 1777]



Ultimately, Strahan made his decision and declined to publish the

Dialogues. In a letter to Hume's brother (i.e., the father of

Hume's nephew) Strahan repeats his reasoning that  the Dialogues

"might be published with more propriety" by the nephew (March 3,

1777).



     The almost absurd preoccupation with public image continued

as Hume's brother strategized as to how long his son should delay

in bringing the Dialogues to the press. Hume's brother recorded

his thoughts in a reply to Strahan:



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

     should delay the publication of the dialogues on Natural

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

     had a title by his uncles settlement upon your not

     publication of them; otherways it carried the appearance of

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

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

     difficult task to support himself, almost in the

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

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

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

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



Indeed, Hume's nephew delayed for two years and the Dialogues

finally appeared in the middle of 1779. Upon its publication,

Hume's friend Hugh Blair wrote to Strahan commenting on the lack

of "noise" that it produced.



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

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

     little noise. They are exceedingly elegant. They bring

     together some of his most exceptionable reasonings, but the

     principles themselves were all in his former works. [August

     3, 1779]



Within the following few months, four reviews of Hume's Dialogues

appeared, each of which confirmed Blair's initial reaction. The

first review to appear was the lead article in the Critical

Review journal. The review opened noting that "neither the

friends of religion have any occasion to be alarmed, nor her

enemies to triumph. Freedom of enquiry can never be injurious to

the cause of truth." The reviewer concludes with only mild

criticism arguing that "If the objections advanced by Philo had

been produced with modesty, and answered by Cleanthes as fully as

the nature of the question would have allowed, the author would

have been applauded by every sensible and discerning reader. But

when they are proposed with an air of triumph and defiance, this

work assumes a more disadvantageous form, the aspect of

infidelity." (September 1779, Vol. 48, pp. 161-172). The second

review of the Dialogues which appeared in the London Review  was

more flattering. The review expresses hope that  "it will prove

no unacceptable present to the orthodox" and concludes that

"...in our opinion, whoever carefully peruses these Dialogues

will not readily be infected with either of the two greatest

corruptions of religion, enthusiasm or superstition"   (1779,

Vol. 10, pp. 365-373).



     Finally, William Rose's review in the Monthly Review opens

noting that the Dialogues are "written with great elegance; in

the true spirit of ancient dialogue; and, in point of

composition, is equal, if not superior, to any of Mr. Hume's

other writings. Nothing new, however, is advanced upon the

subjects." Rose concludes, though, on a more negatively. For

Rose, if Hume is right that God does not exist, then "the wicked

are set free from every restraint but that of the laws... the

world we live in is a fatherless world; we are chained down to a

life full of wretchedness and misery; and we have no hope beyond

the grave." Rose notes that "Hume had been long floating on the

boundless and pathless ocean of scepticism..." and Hume should

have desired a more secure peace at the end of his life. "But his

love of paradox, his inordinate pursuit of literary fame,

continued..." and, for Rose, this formed Hume's motive for

publishing the Dialogues. Rose acknowledges that Hume lived a

virtuous life, and suggests that Hume's natural good temper,

education, and fortune overcame the negative effects of his

philosophy. But if his philosophy was let loose among humankind,

Rose asks, "Will those who think they are to die like brutes,

ever act like men?" Rose believes that even the best political

system needs to be supplemented with fear of divine punishment to

curb immortality within the law. Nevertheless, Rose concedes that

philosophically minded readers will not be harmed by the

Dialogues, although the Dialogues "may serve, indeed, to

confirm... the unprincipled in their prejudices...." (November

1779, Vol. 61, pp. 343-355)



     INTERPRETIONS OF THE DIALOGUES. In Hume's day, as now, the

two key interpretive questions of the Dialogues were (1) Which

character, if any, represents Hume?, and (2) What are the views

of that character? Given its literary style, the Dialogues

involve a complex web of concealment, and, accordingly, Hume's

contemporaries took greater pains to understand the hidden

meaning of the Dialogues. Virtually all early commentators on the

Dialogues attempted to identify Philo as Hume's mouthpiece, as

Rose does below in his review when declaring Philo the hero:

                                

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

     means entitled to the character of an accurate philosopher.

     Demea supports the character of a sour, croaking divine,

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

     must be acknowledged, that he urges his objections with no

     inconsiderable degree of acuteness and subtlety.

                                

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

review:

                                

     The following sentiments, which are represented as the

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

     important as to deserve insertion as a specimen of the

     whole.

                                

For the reviewer, the representative sections of Philo's views

are the first half of Part XII of the Dialogues in which Philo

reduces the conflict between atheism and theism to a verbal

dispute. The reviewer concludes that "This reconciliation of

these two seemingly most distant opponents, is of more service to

true religion than volumes of divinity...." The reviewer is

reflecting the editorial slant of the London Review as a whole,

which tended to be religiously skeptical.



     Thomas Hayter made efforts to establish clearly that Philo,

and not Cleanthes, speaks for Hume. The introductory comments to

his Remarks focus exclusively on this issue. After quoting

Pamphilius' portrayal of the three characters, Hayter argues,

                                

     From this representation one might at first be led to look

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

     expect from the mouth of C/LEANTHES\ the celebrated

     Metaphysician's own sentiments. Let us consider however that

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

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

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

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

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

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

     general the sole exclusive privilege of retailing the

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

     Every remarkable trait and feature of those productions may

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

                                

     Other critics attempted to expose a deeper concealment on

Hume's part. Joseph Milner in his Gibbon's account of

Christianity considered argues that Hume is insincere when

pronouncing Cleanthes the victor of the debate:

                                

     In his dialogues concerning natural religion, we have the

     substance of all his sceptical essays; and notwithstanding

     his declaration at the close in favour of Cleanthes, the

     natural religionist, it is evident from the whole tenour of

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

     his former publications, that Philo is his favourite.

     Sincerity constitutes no part of a philosopher's virtue.

                                

He continues that Hume's aim is to "reduce Polytheism, Spinozism,

Christianity, and all sorts of views of the divinity to the same

level of evidence, or rather of no evidence; and on the ruin of

all, to establish his horrible universal scepticism."3



     Perhaps the most penetrating analysis of Philo was given by

John Ogilvie in his Inquiry into the causes of the infidelity and

scepticism of the times. Like his contemporaries, Ogilvie argues

that Philo is Hume's mouthpiece.4 However, Ogilvie charges

further that even Philo's concessions cannot be taken at face

value:

                                

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

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

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

     notwithstanding his love of singular argument, he professeth

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

     declarations upon this subject are contradictory, I

     construct his notions most favourably, when I consider him

     as excluding a Deity from the universe.

                                

For Ogilvie, Hume is involved in double concealment. First, he

conceals his views behind the veil of the character of Philo.

Second, Philo himself is concealing his true views by making

empty concessions toward God's existence. Ogilvie's discussion of

Philo's concealment is particularly relevant in view of the 20th

century commentators, noted above, who take Philo's concessions

as sincere.



     Ogilvie continues that, for Philo, the options for believing

in the creation of the universe are between "a blind nature" or

"an Omnipotent Tyrant, having neither wisdom, justice, goodness,

nor any perfection." Ogilvie argues that it would please us "much

better to think that this world was formed by a fortuitous

concourse of atoms... rather than to view it as framed by an

intelligent Mind to be an immense Lazar-house, crowded with the

victims of disease...." Given Philo's view of the intelligent

mind, Ogilvie asks that we

                                

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

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

     therefore, that I construct his contradictory assertions

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

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

     as being entitled to his homage.

                                

Ogilvie concludes by focusing on Philo's concession of thanks to

the creator "that Atheists are rarely to be met with." Ogilvie

asks,

                                

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

     this occasion? Are they offered to that Intelligence who

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

     the "coarse Artificer, the Author of physical and moral

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

     for having so framed His work, as that His miserable

     creatures by denying His existence, may turn from objects

     that cannot be viewed with other feelings than those of

     horror and detestation.

                                

This feature of double concealment was also recognized by George

Horne in his Letters on infidelity (1784). In that work Horne

presents "A dialogue between Thomas and Timothy on philosophical

skepticism" which exposes Hume's literary device. Horne's

dialogue opens,

                                

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

     Tom. I am going to be made a Christian.

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

          who is to make you one?

     Tim. David Hume.

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

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

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

          Christianity, whereas his whole life was spent in its

          service. His works compose altogether a complete

          Praeparatio Evangelica. They lead men gently, and

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

          and verse for you. Dialogues concerning Natural

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

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

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

                                

Horne's dialogue proceeds farcically with Timothy and Thomas each

producing evidence from Hume's Dialogue in defense of their

respective interpretations of Hume. Horne, of course, did not

believe that Hume's life was spent in service of Christianity (as

Timothy does in Horne's dialog).



     In recent years there has been an even greater diversity of

interpretations of the Dialogues and many commentators argue that

Hume was not as critical of natural religion as his reputation

would have us believe. Here is a sample of some of the recent

interpretations of Hume, beginning with the most "moderate."

Nicholas Capaldi argues that Hume outright accepted the design

argument for God's existence.5 Similarly, according to James

O'Higgins, Hume accepted the design argument, although remained

skeptical about the entire enterprise of reasoning. For

O'Higgins, Hume reluctantly conceded God's existence, yet, like

the Deists, denied that God concerns himself with governing the

world.6 J.C.A. Gaskin sees Hume as an attenuated deist insofar as

Hume held that there was a weak probability that natural order

resulted from an intelligence remotely analogous to our own. For

Gaskin, Hume maintains that this weak probability combines with

our more subjective human feeling that natural order springs from

a designer, hence we assent to the existence of a designer

(although this being has no moral claim on us). Norman Kemp Smith

argues that religion for Hume consists exclusively in an

intellectual assent to the proposition "God exists." Kemp Smith

concludes, though, that religion for Hume ought not to have any

influence on human conduct.7 Similarly, for B.A.O. Williams,

Hume's religion consisted of merely holding open the possibility

of an intelligent creator.8

     Ernest C. Mossner argues that Hume denied all supernatural

and conventional religion, but advanced a "religion of man"

insofar as Hume optimistically believed that the enlightened

determine the fate of humanity and are the measure of all

things.9 Similarly, Donald Livingston argues that Hume offers a

"philosophical theism" which is an historically determined

natural belief, yet one which eschews the writings and rituals of

the theistic tradition.10 It should be noted, however, that even

if Mossner and Livingston have captured Hume's views, it is

difficult to see how this could qualify as a religion by 18th

century standards, and it is hard to believe that Hume would want

to classify it as such. Finally, for James Noxon, Hume is simply

an agnostic (as opposed to an atheist):



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

     consistently for Hume. Every attempt to identify Hume's

     spokesman could be forestalled by quoting lines given to

     that speaker which were inconsistent with statements

     published elsewhere under Hume's own name.11



Insofar as no one of the characters speaks consistently for Hume,

Noxon argues that this expresses Hume's view about the limits of

human understanding and, consequently, indicates that Hume is an

agnostic.



     Most of the above contemporary debate about Hume's views

traces back to three sources. First, in Hume's Natural History of

Religion, in no less than nine passages Hume seems to defend the

design argument for God's existence. Second, in several of Hume's

above quoted letters (to Gilbert Elliot and William Strahan) Hume

appears sympathetic to Cleanthes' position. Third, in the

concluding section of the Dialogues Hume seems to endorse the

design argument: Cleanthes, the defender of natural religion,

wins the debate, and Philo, the religious skeptic, eventually

concedes that "the cause or causes of order in the universe

probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence."

However, all three of these sources can be seen, and probably

should be seen, as instances of concealment. Although

contemporary commentators do note Hume's use of irony in his

writings, they have lost sight of how pervasive and complex it

is, especially with politically sensitive issues such as

religion. Early commentators had this well in view when they

interpreted Hume. They lived at the same time and under the same

political conditions as Hume did, and they were accustomed to the

decoding the concealed meaning in other nontraditional writers.

The principle value of Horne's farcical dialog between Tim and

Tom is that it shows the absurdity of seeing Philo as a champion

of religion, especially in the pivotal Part 12 of the Dialogues.

From Horne's perspective, contemporary commentators who take Part

12 as evidence for Hume's theism have fallen into Hume's trap.





                             * * * *

                                

                     PAMPHILUS TO HERMIPPUS



     It has been remarked, my H/ERMIPPUS\, that though the

ancient philosophers conveyed most of their instruction in the

form of dialogue, this method of composition has been little

practised in later ages, and has seldom succeeded in the hands of

those who have attempted it. Accurate and regular argument,

indeed, such as is now expected of philosophical inquirers,

naturally throws a man into the methodical and didactic manner;

where he can immediately, without preparation, explain the point

at which he aims; and thence proceed, without interruption, to

deduce the proofs on which it is established. To deliver a

S/YSTEM\ in conversation, scarcely appears natural; and while the

dialogue-writer desires, by departing from the direct style of

composition, to give a freer air to his performance, and avoid

the appearance of Author and Reader, he is apt to run into a

worse inconvenience, and convey the image of Pedagogue and Pupil.

Or, if he carries on the dispute in the natural spirit of good

company, by throwing in a variety of topics, and preserving a

proper balance among the speakers, he often loses so much time in

preparations and transitions, that the reader will scarcely think

himself compensated, by all the graces of dialogue, for the

order, brevity, and precision, which are sacrificed to them.



     There are some subjects, however, to which dialogue-writing

is peculiarly adapted, and where it is still preferable to the

direct and simple method of composition.



     Any point of doctrine, which is so obvious that it scarcely

admits of dispute, but at the same time so important that it

cannot be too often inculcated, seems to require some such method

of handling it; where the novelty of the manner may compensate

the triteness of the subject; where the vivacity of conversation

may enforce the precept; and where the variety of lights,

presented by various personages and characters, may appear

neither tedious nor redundant.



     Any question of philosophy, on the other hand, which is so

obscure and uncertain, that human reason can reach no fixed

determination with regard to it; if it should be treated at all,

seems to lead us naturally into the style of dialogue and

conversation. Reasonable men may be allowed to differ, where no

one can reasonably be positive. Opposite sentiments, even without

any decision, afford an agreeable amusement; and if the subject

be curious and interesting, the book carries us, in a manner,

into company; and unites the two greatest and purest pleasures of

human life, study and society.



     Happily, these circumstances are all to be found in the

subject of /NATURAL RELIGION\. What truth so obvious, so certain,

as the being of a God, which the most ignorant ages have

acknowledged, for which the most refined geniuses have

ambitiously striven to produce new proofs and arguments? What

truth so important as this, which is the ground of all our hopes,

the surest foundation of morality, the firmest support of

society, and the only principle which ought never to be a moment

absent from our thoughts and meditations? But, in treating of

this obvious and important truth, what obscure questions occur

concerning the nature of that Divine Being, his attributes, his

decrees, his plan of providence? These have been always subjected

to the disputations of men; concerning these human reason has not

reached any certain determination. But these are topics so

interesting, that we cannot restrain our restless inquiry with

regard to them; though nothing but doubt, uncertainty, and

contradiction, have as yet been the result of our most accurate

researches.



     This I had lately occasion to observe, while I passed, as

usual, part of the summer season with C/LEANTHES\, and was

present at those conversations of his with P/HILO\ and D/EMEA\,

of which I gave you lately some imperfect account. Your

curiosity, you then told me, was so excited, that I must, of

necessity, enter into a more exact detail of their reasonings,

and display those various systems which they advanced with regard

to so delicate a subject as that of natural religion. The

remarkable contrast in their characters still further raised your

expectations; while you opposed the accurate philosophical turn

of C/LEANTHES\ to the careless scepticism of P/HILO\, or compared

either of their dispositions with the rigid inflexible orthodoxy

of D/EMEA\. My youth rendered me a mere auditor of their

disputes; and that curiosity, natural to the early season of

life, has so deeply imprinted in my memory the whole chain and

connection of their arguments, that, I hope, I shall not omit or

confound any considerable part of them in the recital.



                             * * * *



                             PART 1



     After I joined the company, whom I found sitting in

C/LEANTHES\'s library, D/EMEA\ paid C/LEANTHES\ some compliments

on the great care which he took of my education, and on his

unwearied perseverance and constancy in all his friendships. The

father of P/AMPHILUS\, said he, was your intimate friend: The son

is your pupil; and may indeed be regarded as your adopted son,

were we to judge by the pains which you bestow in conveying to

him every useful branch of literature and science. You are no

more wanting, I am persuaded, in prudence, than in industry. I

shall, therefore, communicate to you a maxim, which I have

observed with regard to my own children, that I may learn how far

it agrees with your practice. The method I follow in their

education is founded on the saying of an ancient, "That students

of philosophy ought first to learn logics, then ethics, next

physics, last of all the nature of the gods."12 This science of

natural theology, according to him, being the most profound and

abstruse of any, required the maturest judgement in its students;

and none but a mind enriched with all the other sciences, can

safely be entrusted with it.



     Are you so late, says P/HILO\, in teaching your children the

principles of religion? Is there no danger of their neglecting,

or rejecting altogether those opinions of which they have heard

so little during the whole course of their education? It is only

as a science, replied D/EMEA\, subjected to human reasoning and

disputation, that I postpone the study of Natural Theology. To

season their minds with early piety, is my chief care; and by

continual precept and instruction, and I hope too by example, I

imprint deeply on their tender minds an habitual reverence for

all the principles of religion. While they pass through every

other science, I still remark the uncertainty of each part; the

eternal disputations of men; the obscurity of all philosophy; and

the strange, ridiculous conclusions, which some of the greatest

geniuses have derived from the principles of mere human reason.

Having thus tamed their mind to a proper submission and self-

diffidence, I have no longer any scruple of opening to them the

greatest mysteries of religion; nor apprehend any danger from

that assuming arrogance of philosophy, which may lead them to

reject the most established doctrines and opinions.



     Your precaution, says P/HILO\, of seasoning your children's

minds early with piety, is certainly very reasonable; and no more

than is requisite in this profane and irreligious age. But what I

chiefly admire in your plan of education, is your method of

drawing advantage from the very principles of philosophy and

learning, which, by inspiring pride and self-sufficiency, have

commonly, in all ages, been found so destructive to the

principles of religion. The vulgar, indeed, we may remark, who

are unacquainted with science and profound inquiry, observing the

endless disputes of the learned, have commonly a thorough

contempt for philosophy; and rivet themselves the faster, by that

means, in the great points of theology which have been taught

them. Those who enter a little into study and study and inquiry,

finding many appearances of evidence in doctrines the newest and

most extraordinary, think nothing too difficult for human reason;

and, presumptuously breaking through all fences, profane the

inmost sanctuaries of the temple. But C/LEANTHES\ will, I hope,

agree with me, that, after we have abandoned ignorance, the

surest remedy, there is still one expedient left to prevent this

profane liberty. Let D/EMEA\'s principles be improved and

cultivated: Let us become thoroughly sensible of the weakness,

blindness, and narrow limits of human reason: Let us duly

consider its uncertainty and endless contrarieties, even in

subjects of common life and practice: Let the errors and deceits

of our very senses be set before us; the insuperable difficulties

which attend first principles in all systems; the contradictions

which adhere to the very ideas of matter, cause and effect,

extension, space, time, motion; and in a word, quantity of all

kinds, the object of the only science that can fairly pretend to

any certainty or evidence. When these topics are displayed in

their full light, as they are by some philosophers and almost all

divines; who can retain such confidence in this frail faculty of

reason as to pay any regard to its determinations in points so

sublime, so abstruse, so remote from common life and experience?

When the coherence of the parts of a stone, or even that

composition of parts which renders it extended; when these

familiar objects, I say, are so inexplicable, and contain

circumstances so repugnant and contradictory; with what assurance

can we decide concerning the origin of worlds, or trace their

history from eternity to eternity?



     While P/HILO\ pronounced these words, I could observe a

smile in the countenance both of D/EMEA\ and C/LEANTHES\. That of

D/EMEA\ seemed to imply an unreserved satisfaction in the

doctrines delivered: But, in C/LEANTHES\'s features, I could

distinguish an air of finesse; as if he perceived some raillery

or artificial malice in the reasonings of P/HILO\.



     You propose then, P/HILO\, said C/LEANTHES\, to erect

religious faith on philosophical scepticism; and you think, that

if certainty or evidence be expelled from every other subject of

inquiry, it will all retire to these theological doctrines, and

there acquire a superior force and authority. Whether your

scepticism be as absolute and sincere as you pretend, we shall

learn by and by, when the company breaks up: We shall then see,

whether you go out at the door or the window; and whether you

really doubt if your body has gravity, or can be injured by its

fall; according to popular opinion, derived from our fallacious

senses, and more fallacious experience. And this consideration,

D/EMEA\, may, I think, fairly serve to abate our ill-will to this

humorous sect of the sceptics. If they be thoroughly in earnest,

they will not long trouble the world with their doubts, cavils,

and disputes: If they be only in jest, they are, perhaps, bad

raillers; but can never be very dangerous, either to the state,

to philosophy, or to religion.



     In reality, P/HILO\, continued he, it seems certain, that

though a man, in a flush of humour, after intense reflection on

the many contradictions and imperfections of human reason, may

entirely renounce all belief and opinion, it is impossible for

him to persevere in this total scepticism, or make it appear in

his conduct for a few hours. External objects press in upon him;

passions solicit him; his philosophical melancholy dissipates;

and even the utmost violence upon his own temper will not be

able, during any time, to preserve the poor appearance of

scepticism. And for what reason impose on himself such a

violence? This is a point in which it will be impossible for him

ever to satisfy himself, consistently with his sceptical

principles. So that, upon the whole, nothing could be more

ridiculous than the principles of the ancient P/YRRHONIANS\; if

in reality they endeavoured, as is pretended, to extend,

throughout, the same scepticism which they had learned from the

declamations of their schools, and which they ought to have

confined to them.



     In this view, there appears a great resemblance between the

sects of the S/TOICS\ and P/YRRHONIANS\, though perpetual

antagonists; and both of them seem founded on this erroneous

maxim, That what a man can perform sometimes, and in some

dispositions, he can perform always, and in every disposition.

When the mind, by Stoical reflections, is elevated into a sublime

enthusiasm of virtue, and strongly smit with any species of

honour or public good, the utmost bodily pain and sufferings will

not prevail over such a high sense of duty; and it is possible,

perhaps, by its means, even to smile and exult in the midst of

tortures. If this sometimes may be the case in fact and reality,

much more may a philosopher, in his school, or even in his

closet, work himself up to such an enthusiasm, and support in

imagination the acutest pain or most calamitous event which he

can possibly conceive. But how shall he support this enthusiasm

itself? The bent of his mind relaxes, and cannot be recalled at

pleasure; avocations lead him astray; misfortunes attack him

unawares; and the philosopher sinks by degrees into the plebeian.



     I allow of your comparison between the S/TOICS\ and

S/KEPTICS\, replied P/HILO\. But you may observe, at the same

time, that though the mind cannot, in Stoicism, support the

highest flights of philosophy, yet, even when it sinks lower, it

still retains somewhat of its former disposition; and the effects

of the Stoic's reasoning will appear in his conduct in common

life, and through the whole tenor of his actions. The ancient

schools, particularly that of Z/ENO\, produced examples of virtue

and constancy which seem astonishing to present times.



     Vain Wisdom all and false Philosophy.

     Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm

     Pain, for a while, or anguish; and excite

     Fallacious Hope, or arm the obdurate breast

     With stubborn Patience, as with triple steel.13



     In like manner, if a man has accustomed himself to sceptical

considerations on the uncertainty and narrow limits of reason, he

will not entirely forget them when he turns his reflection on

other subjects; but in all his philosophical principles and

reasoning, I dare not say in his common conduct, he will be found

different from those, who either never formed any opinions in the

case, or have entertained sentiments more favourable to human

reason.



     To whatever length any one may push his speculative

principles of scepticism, he must act, I own, and live, and

converse, like other men; and for this conduct he is not obliged

to give any other reason, than the absolute necessity he lies

under of so doing. If he ever carries his speculations further

than this necessity constrains him, and philosophises either on

natural or moral subjects, he is allured by a certain pleasure

and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself after that

manner. He considers besides, that every one, even in common

life, is constrained to have more or less of this philosophy;

that from our earliest infancy we make continual advances in

forming more general principles of conduct and reasoning; that

the larger experience we acquire, and the stronger reason we are

endued with, we always render our principles the more general and

comprehensive; and that what we call philosophy is nothing but a

more regular and methodical operation of the same kind. To

philosophise on such subjects, is nothing essentially different

from reasoning on common life; and we may only expect greater

stability, if not greater truth, from our philosophy, on account

of its exacter and more scrupulous method of proceeding.



     But when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of

the surrounding bodies: when we carry our speculations into the

two eternities, before and after the present state of things;

into the creation and formation of the universe; the existence

and properties of spirits; the powers and operations of one

universal Spirit existing without beginning and without end;

omnipotent, omniscient, immutable, infinite, and

incomprehensible: We must be far removed from the smallest

tendency to scepticism not to be apprehensive, that we have here

got quite beyond the reach of our faculties. So long as we

confine our speculations to trade, or morals, or politics, or

criticism, we make appeals, every moment, to common sense and

experience, which strengthen our philosophical conclusions, and

remove, at least in part, the suspicion which we so justly

entertain with regard to every reasoning that is very subtle and

refined. But, in theological reasonings, we have not this

advantage; while, at the same time, we are employed upon objects,

which, we must be sensible, are too large for our grasp, and of

all others, require most to be familiarised to our apprehension.

We are like foreigners in a strange country, to whom every thing

must seem suspicious, and who are in danger every moment of

transgressing against the laws and customs of the people with

whom they live and converse. We know not how far we ought to

trust our vulgar methods of reasoning in such a subject; since,

even in common life, and in that province which is peculiarly

appropriated to them, we cannot account for them, and are

entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing

them.



     All sceptics pretend, that, if reason be considered in an

abstract view, it furnishes invincible arguments against itself;

and that we could never retain any conviction or assurance, on

any subject, were not the sceptical reasonings so refined and

subtle, that they are not able to counterpoise the more solid and

more natural arguments derived from the senses and experience.

But it is evident, whenever our arguments lose this advantage,

and run wide of common life, that the most refined scepticism

comes to be upon a footing with them, and is able to oppose and

counterbalance them. The one has no more weight than the other.

The mind must remain in suspense between them; and it is that

very suspense or balance, which is the triumph of scepticism.



     But I observe, says C/LEANTHES\, with regard to you,

P/HILO\, and all speculative sceptics, that your doctrine and

practice are as much at variance in the most abstruse points of

theory as in the conduct of common life. Wherever evidence

discovers itself, you adhere to it, notwithstanding your

pretended scepticism; and I can observe, too, some of your sect

to be as decisive as those who make greater professions of

certainty and assurance. In reality, would not a man be

ridiculous, who pretended to reject N/EWTON\'s explication of the

wonderful phenomenon of the rainbow, because that explication

gives a minute anatomy of the rays of light; a subject, forsooth,

too refined for human comprehension? And what would you say to

one, who, having nothing particular to object to the arguments of

C/OPERNICUS\ and G/ALILEO\ for the motion of the earth, should

withhold his assent, on that general principle, that these

subjects were too magnificent and remote to be explained by the

narrow and fallacious reason of mankind?



     There is indeed a kind of brutish and ignorant scepticism,

as you well observed, which gives the vulgar a general prejudice

against what they do not easily understand, and makes them reject

every principle which requires elaborate reasoning to prove and

establish it. This species of scepticism is fatal to knowledge,

not to religion; since we find, that those who make greatest

profession of it, give often their assent, not only to the great

truths of Theism and natural theology, but even to the most

absurd tenets which a traditional superstition has recommended to

them. They firmly believe in witches, though they will not

believe nor attend to the most simple proposition of Euclid. But

the refined and philosophical sceptics fall into an inconsistence

of an opposite nature. They push their researches into the most

abstruse corners of science; and their assent attends them in

every step, proportioned to the evidence which they meet with.

They are even obliged to acknowledge, that the most abstruse and

remote objects are those which are best explained by philosophy.

Light is in reality anatomised. The true system of the heavenly

bodies is discovered and ascertained. But the nourishment of

bodies by food is still an inexplicable mystery. The cohesion of

the parts of matter is still incomprehensible. These sceptics,

therefore, are obliged, in every question, to consider each

particular evidence apart, and proportion their assent to the

precise degree of evidence which occurs. This is their practice

in all natural, mathematical, moral, and political science. And

why not the same, I ask, in the theological and religious? Why

must conclusions of this nature be alone rejected on the general

presumption of the insufficiency of human reason, without any

particular discussion of the evidence? Is not such an unequal

conduct a plain proof of prejudice and passion?



     Our senses, you say, are fallacious; our understanding

erroneous; our ideas, even of the most familiar objects,

extension, duration, motion, full of absurdities and

contradictions. You defy me to solve the difficulties, or

reconcile the repugnancies which you discover in them. I have not

capacity for so great an undertaking: I have not leisure for it:

I perceive it to be superfluous. Your own conduct, in every

circumstance, refutes your principles, and shows the firmest

reliance on all the received maxims of science, morals, prudence,

and behaviour. I shall never assent to so harsh an opinion as

that of a celebrated writer,14 who says, that the Sceptics are

not a sect of philosophers: They are only a sect of liars. I may,

however, affirm (I hope without offence), that they are a sect of

jesters or raillers. But for my part, whenever I find myself

disposed to mirth and amusement, I shall certainly choose my

entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse nature. A comedy,

a novel, or at most a history, seems a more natural recreation

than such metaphysical subtleties and abstractions.



     In vain would the sceptic make a distinction between science

and common life, or between one science and another. The

arguments employed in all, if just, are of a similar nature, and

contain the same force and evidence. Or if there be any

difference among them, the advantage lies entirely on the side of

theology and natural religion. Many principles of mechanics are

founded on very abstruse reasoning; yet no man who has any

pretensions to science, even no speculative sceptic, pretends to

entertain the least doubt with regard to them. The C/OPERNICAN\

system contains the most surprising paradox, and the most

contrary to our natural conceptions, to appearances, and to our

very senses: yet even monks and inquisitors are now constrained

to withdraw their opposition to it. And shall P/HILO\, a man of

so liberal a genius and extensive knowledge, entertain any

general undistinguished scruples with regard to the religious

hypothesis, which is founded on the simplest and most obvious

arguments, and, unless it meets with artificial obstacles, has

such easy access and admission into the mind of man?



     And here we may observe, continued he, turning himself

towards D/EMEA\, a pretty curious circumstance in the history of

the sciences. After the union of philosophy with the popular

religion, upon the first establishment of Christianity, nothing

was more usual, among all religious teachers, than declamations

against reason, against the senses, against every principle

derived merely from human research and inquiry. All the topics of

the ancient academics were adopted by the fathers; and thence

propagated for several ages in every school and pulpit throughout

Christendom. The Reformers embraced the same principles of

reasoning, or rather declamation; and all panegyrics on the

excellency of faith, were sure to be interlarded with some severe

strokes of satire against natural reason. A celebrated prelate

too,15 of the Romish communion, a man of the most extensive

learning, who wrote a demonstration of Christianity, has also

composed a treatise, which contains all the cavils of the boldest

and most determined P/YRRHONISM\. L/OCKE\ seems to have been the

first Christian who ventured openly to assert, that faith was

nothing but a species of reason; that religion was only a branch

of philosophy; and that a chain of arguments, similar to that

which established any truth in morals, politics, or physics, was

always employed in discovering all the principles of theology,

natural and revealed. The ill use which B/AYLE\ and other

libertines made of the philosophical scepticism of the fathers

and first reformers, still further propagated the judicious

sentiment of Mr. L/OCKE\: And it is now in a manner avowed, by

all pretenders to reasoning and philosophy, that Atheist and

Sceptic are almost synonymous. And as it is certain that no man

is in earnest when he professes the latter principle, I would

fain hope that there are as few who seriously maintain the

former.



     Don't you remember, said P/HILO\, the excellent saying of

L/ORD\ B/ACON\ on this head? That a little philosophy, replied

C/LEANTHES\, makes a man an Atheist: A great deal converts him to

religion. That is a very judicious remark too, said P/HILO\. But

what I have in my eye is another passage, where, having mentioned

D/AVID\'s fool, who said in his heart there is no God, this great

philosopher observes, that the Atheists nowadays have a double

share of folly; for they are not contented to say in their hearts

there is no God, but they also utter that impiety with their

lips, and are thereby guilty of multiplied indiscretion and

imprudence. Such people, though they were ever so much in

earnest, cannot, methinks, be very formidable.



     But though you should rank me in this class of fools, I

cannot forbear communicating a remark that occurs to me, from the

history of the religious and irreligious scepticism with which

you have entertained us. It appears to me, that there are strong

symptoms of priestcraft in the whole progress of this affair.

During ignorant ages, such as those which followed the

dissolution of the ancient schools, the priests perceived, that

Atheism, Deism, or heresy of any kind, could only proceed from

the presumptuous questioning of received opinions, and from a

belief that human reason was equal to every thing. Education had

then a mighty influence over the minds of men, and was almost

equal in force to those suggestions of the senses and common

understanding, by which the most determined sceptic must allow

himself to be governed. But at present, when the influence of

education is much diminished, and men, from a more open commerce

of the world, have learned to compare the popular principles of

different nations and ages, our sagacious divines have changed

their whole system of philosophy, and talk the language of

S/TOICS\, P/LATONISTS\, and P/ERIPATETICS\, not that of

P/YRRHONIANS\ and A/CADEMICS\. If we distrust human reason, we

have now no other principle to lead us into religion. Thus,

sceptics in one age, dogmatists in another; whichever system best

suits the purpose of these reverend gentlemen, in giving them an

ascendant over mankind, they are sure to make it their favourite

principle, and established tenet.



     It is very natural, said C/LEANTHES\, for men to embrace

those principles, by which they find they can best defend their

doctrines; nor need we have any recourse to priestcraft to

account for so reasonable an expedient. And, surely nothing can

afford a stronger presumption, that any set of principles are

true, and ought to be embraced, than to observe that they tend to

the confirmation of true religion, and serve to confound the

cavils of Atheists, Libertines, and Freethinkers of all

denominations.



                             * * * *



                             PART 2



     I must own, C/LEANTHES\, said D/EMEA\, that nothing can more

surprise me, than the light in which you have all along put this

argument. By the whole tenor of your discourse, one would imagine

that you were maintaining the Being of a God, against the cavils

of Atheists and Infidels; and were necessitated to become a

champion for that fundamental principle of all religion. But

this, I hope, is not by any means a question among us. No man, no

man at least of common sense, I am persuaded, ever entertained a

serious doubt with regard to a truth so certain and self-evident.

The question is not concerning the being, but the nature of God.

This, I affirm, from the infirmities of human understanding, to

be altogether incomprehensible and unknown to us. The essence of

that supreme Mind, his attributes, the manner of his existence,

the very nature of his duration; these, and every particular

which regards so divine a Being, are mysterious to men. Finite,

weak, and blind creatures, we ought to humble ourselves in his

august presence; and, conscious of our frailties, adore in

silence his infinite perfections, which eye hath not seen, ear

hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to

conceive. They are covered in a deep cloud from human curiosity.

It is profaneness to attempt penetrating through these sacred

obscurities. And, next to the impiety of denying his existence,

is the temerity of prying into his nature and essence, decrees

and attributes.



     But lest you should think that my piety has here got the

better of my philosophy, I shall support my opinion, if it needs

any support, by a very great authority. I might cite all the

divines, almost, from the foundation of Christianity, who have

ever treated of this or any other theological subject: But I

shall confine myself, at present, to one equally celebrated for

piety and philosophy. It is Father M/ALEBRANCHE\, who, I

remember, thus expresses himself.16 "One ought not so much," says

he, "to call God a spirit, in order to express positively what he

is, as in order to signify that he is not matter. He is a Being

infinitely perfect: Of this we cannot doubt. But in the same

manner as we ought not to imagine, even supposing him corporeal,

that he is clothed with a human body, as the /ANTHROPOMORPHITES\

asserted, under colour that that figure was the most perfect of

any; so, neither ought we to imagine that the spirit of God has

human ideas, or bears any resemblance to our spirit, under colour

that we know nothing more perfect than a human mind. We ought

rather to believe, that as he comprehends the perfections of

matter without being material.... he comprehends also the

perfections of created spirits without being spirit, in the

manner we conceive spirit: That his true name is, He that is; or,

in other words, Being without restriction, All Being, the Being

infinite and universal."



     After so great an authority, D/EMEA\, replied P/HILO\, as

that which you have produced, and a thousand more which you might

produce, it would appear ridiculous in me to add my sentiment, or

express my approbation of your doctrine. But surely, where

reasonable men treat these subjects, the question can never be

concerning the Being, but only the Nature, of the Deity. The

former truth, as you well observe, is unquestionable and self-

evident. Nothing exists without a cause; and the original cause

of this universe (whatever it be) we call God; and piously

ascribe to him every species of perfection. Whoever scruples this

fundamental truth, deserves every punishment which can be

inflicted among philosophers, to wit, the greatest ridicule,

contempt, and disapprobation. But as all perfection is entirely

relative, we ought never to imagine that we comprehend the

attributes of this divine Being, or to suppose that his

perfections have any analogy or likeness to the perfections of a

human creature. Wisdom, Thought, Design, Knowledge; these we

justly ascribe to him; because these words are honourable among

men, and we have no other language or other conceptions by which

we can express our adoration of him. But let us beware, lest we

think that our ideas anywise correspond to his perfections, or

that his attributes have any resemblance to these qualities among

men. He is infinitely superior to our limited view and

comprehension; and is more the object of worship in the temple,

than of disputation in the schools.



     In reality, C/LEANTHES\, continued he, there is no need of

having recourse to that affected scepticism so displeasing to

you, in order to come at this determination. Our ideas reach no

further than our experience. We have no experience of divine

attributes and operations. I need not conclude my syllogism. You

can draw the inference yourself. And it is a pleasure to me (and

I hope to you too) that just reasoning and sound piety here

concur in the same conclusion, and both of them establish the

adorably mysterious and incomprehensible nature of the Supreme

Being.



     Not to lose any time in circumlocutions, said C/LEANTHES\,

addressing himself to D/EMEA\, much less in replying to the pious

declamations of P/HILO\; I shall briefly explain how I conceive

this matter. Look round the world: contemplate the whole and

every part of it: You will find it to be nothing but one great

machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines,

which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human

senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various

machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each

other with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who

have ever contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to

ends, throughout all nature, resembles exactly, though it much

exceeds, the productions of human contrivance; of human designs,

thought, wisdom, and intelligence. Since, therefore, the effects

resemble each other, we are led to infer, by all the rules of

analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the Author of

Nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed

of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the

work which he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by

this argument alone, do we prove at once the existence of a

Deity, and his similarity to human mind and intelligence.



     I shall be so free, C/LEANTHES\, said D/EMEA\, as to tell

you, that from the beginning, I could not approve of your

conclusion concerning the similarity of the Deity to men; still

less can I approve of the mediums by which you endeavour to

establish it. What! No demonstration of the Being of God! No

abstract arguments! No proofs a priori! Are these, which have

hitherto been so much insisted on by philosophers, all fallacy,

all sophism? Can we reach no further in this subject than

experience and probability? I will not say that this is betraying

the cause of a Deity: But surely, by this affected candour, you

give advantages to Atheists, which they never could obtain by the

mere dint of argument and reasoning.



     What I chiefly scruple in this subject, said P/HILO\, is not

so much that all religious arguments are by C/LEANTHES\ reduced

to experience, as that they appear not to be even the most

certain and irrefragable of that inferior kind. That a stone will

fall, that fire will burn, that the earth has solidity, we have

observed a thousand and a thousand times; and when any new

instance of this nature is presented, we draw without hesitation

the accustomed inference. The exact similarity of the cases gives

us a perfect assurance of a similar event; and a stronger

evidence is never desired nor sought after. But wherever you

depart, in the least, from the similarity of the cases, you

diminish proportionably the evidence; and may at last bring it to

a very weak analogy, which is confessedly liable to error and

uncertainty. After having experienced the circulation of the

blood in human creatures, we make no doubt that it takes place in

T/ITIUS\ and M/AEVIUS\. But from its circulation in frogs and

fishes, it is only a presumption, though a strong one, from

analogy, that it takes place in men and other animals. The

analogical reasoning is much weaker, when we infer the

circulation of the sap in vegetables from our experience that the

blood circulates in animals; and those, who hastily followed that

imperfect analogy, are found, by more accurate experiments, to

have been mistaken.



     If we see a house, C/LEANTHES\, we conclude, with the

greatest certainty, that it had an architect or builder; because

this is precisely that species of effect which we have

experienced to proceed from that species of cause. But surely you

will not affirm, that the universe bears such a resemblance to a

house, that we can with the same certainty infer a similar cause,

or that the analogy is here entire and perfect. The dissimilitude

is so striking, that the utmost you can here pretend to is a

guess, a conjecture, a presumption concerning a similar cause;

and how that pretension will be received in the world, I leave

you to consider.



     It would surely be very ill received, replied C/LEANTHES\;

and I should be deservedly blamed and detested, did I allow, that

the proofs of a Deity amounted to no more than a guess or

conjecture. But is the whole adjustment of means to ends in a

house and in the universe so slight a resemblance? The economy of

final causes? The order, proportion, and arrangement of every

part? Steps of a stair are plainly contrived, that human legs may

use them in mounting; and this inference is certain and

infallible. Human legs are also contrived for walking and

mounting; and this inference, I allow, is not altogether so

certain, because of the dissimilarity which you remark; but does

it, therefore, deserve the name only of presumption or

conjecture?17



     Good God! cried D/EMEA\, interrupting him, where are we?

Zealous defenders of religion allow, that the proofs of a Deity

fall short of perfect evidence! And you, P/HILO\, on whose

assistance I depended in proving the adorable mysteriousness of

the Divine Nature, do you assent to all these extravagant

opinions of C/LEANTHES\? For what other name can I give them? or,

why spare my censure, when such principles are advanced,

supported by such an authority, before so young a man as

P/AMPHILUS\?



     You seem not to apprehend, replied P/HILO\, that I argue

with C/LEANTHES\ in his own way; and, by showing him the

dangerous consequences of his tenets, hope at last to reduce him

to our opinion. But what sticks most with you, I observe, is the

representation which C/LEANTHES\ has made of the argument a

posteriori; and finding that that argument is likely to escape

your hold and vanish into air, you think it so disguised, that

you can scarcely believe it to be set in its true light. Now,

however much I may dissent, in other respects, from the dangerous

principles of C/LEANTHES\, I must allow that he has fairly

represented that argument; and I shall endeavour so to state the

matter to you, that you will entertain no further scruples with

regard to it.



     Were a man to abstract from every thing which he knows or

has seen, he would be altogether incapable, merely from his own

ideas, to determine what kind of scene the universe must be, or

to give the preference to one state or situation of things above

another. For as nothing which he clearly conceives could be

esteemed impossible or implying a contradiction, every chimera of

his fancy would be upon an equal footing; nor could he assign any

just reason why he adheres to one idea or system, and rejects the

others which are equally possible.



     Again; after he opens his eyes, and contemplates the world

as it really is, it would be impossible for him at first to

assign the cause of any one event, much less of the whole of

things, or of the universe. He might set his fancy a rambling;

and she might bring him in an infinite variety of reports and

representations. These would all be possible; but being all

equally possible, he would never of himself give a satisfactory

account for his preferring one of them to the rest. Experience

alone can point out to him the true cause of any phenomenon.



     Now, according to this method of reasoning, D/EMEA\, it

follows, (and is, indeed, tacitly allowed by C/LEANTHES\

himself,) that order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final

causes, is not of itself any proof of design; but only so far as

it has been experienced to proceed from that principle. For aught

we can know a priori, matter may contain the source or spring of

order originally within itself, as well as mind does; and there

is no more difficulty in conceiving, that the several elements,

from an internal unknown cause, may fall into the most exquisite

arrangement, than to conceive that their ideas, in the great

universal mind, from a like internal unknown cause, fall into

that arrangement. The equal possibility of both these

suppositions is allowed. But, by experience, we find, (according

to C/LEANTHES\), that there is a difference between them. Throw

several pieces of steel together, without shape or form; they

will never arrange themselves so as to compose a watch. Stone,

and mortar, and wood, without an architect, never erect a house.

But the ideas in a human mind, we see, by an unknown,

inexplicable economy, arrange themselves so as to form the plan

of a watch or house. Experience, therefore, proves, that there is

an original principle of order in mind, not in matter. From

similar effects we infer similar causes. The adjustment of means

to ends is alike in the universe, as in a machine of human

contrivance. The causes, therefore, must be resembling.



     I was from the beginning scandalised, I must own, with this

resemblance, which is asserted, between the Deity and human

creatures; and must conceive it to imply such a degradation of

the Supreme Being as no sound Theist could endure. With your

assistance, therefore, D/EMEA\, I shall endeavour to defend what

you justly call the adorable mysteriousness of the Divine Nature,

and shall refute this reasoning of C/LEANTHES\, provided he

allows that I have made a fair representation of it.



     When C/LEANTHES\ had assented, P/HILO\, after a short pause,

proceeded in the following manner.



     That all inferences, C/LEANTHES\, concerning fact, are

founded on experience; and that all experimental reasonings are

founded on the supposition that similar causes prove similar

effects, and similar effects similar causes; I shall not at

present much dispute with you. But observe, I entreat you, with

what extreme caution all just reasoners proceed in the

transferring of experiments to similar cases. Unless the cases be

exactly similar, they repose no perfect confidence in applying

their past observation to any particular phenomenon. Every

alteration of circumstances occasions a doubt concerning the

event; and it requires new experiments to prove certainly, that

the new circumstances are of no moment or importance. A change in

bulk, situation, arrangement, age, disposition of the air, or

surrounding bodies; any of these particulars may be attended with

the most unexpected consequences: And unless the objects be quite

familiar to us, it is the highest temerity to expect with

assurance, after any of these changes, an event similar to that

which before fell under our observation. The slow and deliberate

steps of philosophers here, if any where, are distinguished from

the precipitate march of the vulgar, who, hurried on by the

smallest similitude, are incapable of all discernment or

consideration.



     But can you think, C/LEANTHES\, that your usual phlegm and

philosophy have been preserved in so wide a step as you have

taken, when you compared to the universe houses, ships,

furniture, machines, and, from their similarity in some

circumstances, inferred a similarity in their causes? Thought,

design, intelligence, such as we discover in men and other

animals, is no more than one of the springs and principles of the

universe, as well as heat or cold, attraction or repulsion, and a

hundred others, which fall under daily observation. It is an

active cause, by which some particular parts of nature, we find,

produce alterations on other parts. But can a conclusion, with

any propriety, be transferred from parts to the whole? Does not

the great disproportion bar all comparison and inference? From

observing the growth of a hair, can we learn any thing concerning

the generation of a man? Would the manner of a leaf's blowing,

even though perfectly known, afford us any instruction concerning

the vegetation of a tree?



     But, allowing that we were to take the operations of one

part of nature upon another, for the foundation of our judgement

concerning the origin of the whole, (which never can be

admitted,) yet why select so minute, so weak, so bounded a

principle, as the reason and design of animals is found to be

upon this planet? What peculiar privilege has this little

agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we must thus

make it the model of the whole universe? Our partiality in our

own favour does indeed present it on all occasions; but sound

philosophy ought carefully to guard against so natural an

illusion.



     So far from admitting, continued P/HILO\, that the

operations of a part can afford us any just conclusion concerning

the origin of the whole, I will not allow any one part to form a

rule for another part, if the latter be very remote from the

former. Is there any reasonable ground to conclude, that the

inhabitants of other planets possess thought, intelligence,

reason, or any thing similar to these faculties in men? When

nature has so extremely diversified her manner of operation in

this small globe, can we imagine that she incessantly copies

herself throughout so immense a universe? And if thought, as we

may well suppose, be confined merely to this narrow corner, and

has even there so limited a sphere of action, with what propriety

can we assign it for the original cause of all things? The narrow

views of a peasant, who makes his domestic economy the rule for

the government of kingdoms, is in comparison a pardonable

sophism.



     But were we ever so much assured, that a thought and reason,

resembling the human, were to be found throughout the whole

universe, and were its activity elsewhere vastly greater and more

commanding than it appears in this globe; yet I cannot see, why

the operations of a world constituted, arranged, adjusted, can

with any propriety be extended to a world which is in its embryo

state, and is advancing towards that constitution and

arrangement. By observation, we know somewhat of the economy,

action, and nourishment of a finished animal; but we must

transfer with great caution that observation to the growth of a

foetus in the womb, and still more to the formation of an

animalcule in the loins of its male parent. Nature, we find, even

from our limited experience, possesses an infinite number of

springs and principles, which incessantly discover themselves on

every change of her position and situation. And what new and

unknown principles would actuate her in so new and unknown a

situation as that of the formation of a universe, we cannot,

without the utmost temerity, pretend to determine.



     A very small part of this great system, during a very short

time, is very imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence

pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole?



     Admirable conclusion! Stone, wood, brick, iron, brass, have

not, at this time, in this minute globe of earth, an order or

arrangement without human art and contrivance; therefore the

universe could not originally attain its order and arrangement,

without something similar to human art. But is a part of nature a

rule for another part very wide of the former? Is it a rule for

the whole? Is a very small part a rule for the universe? Is

nature in one situation, a certain rule for nature in another

situation vastly different from the former?



     And can you blame me, C/LEANTHES\, if I here imitate the

prudent reserve of S/IMONIDES\, who, according to the noted

story,18 being asked by H/IERO\, What God was? desired a day to

think of it, and then two days more; and after that manner

continually prolonged the term, without ever bringing in his

definition or description? Could you even blame me, if I had

answered at first, that I did not know, and was sensible that

this subject lay vastly beyond the reach of my faculties? You

might cry out sceptic and railler, as much as you pleased: but

having found, in so many other subjects much more familiar, the

imperfections and even contradictions of human reason, I never

should expect any success from its feeble conjectures, in a

subject so sublime, and so remote from the sphere of our

observation. When two species of objects have always been

observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the

existence of one wherever I see the existence of the other; and

this I call an argument from experience. But how this argument

can have place, where the objects, as in the present case, are

single, individual, without parallel, or specific resemblance,

may be difficult to explain. And will any man tell me with a

serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise from

some thought and art like the human, because we have experience

of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite that we had

experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient,

surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art

and contrivance.



     P/HILO\ was proceeding in this vehement manner, somewhat

between jest and earnest, as it appeared to me, when he observed

some signs of impatience in C/LEANTHES\, and then immediately

stopped short. What I had to suggest, said C/LEANTHES\, is only

that you would not abuse terms, or make use of popular

expressions to subvert philosophical reasonings. You know, that

the vulgar often distinguish reason from experience, even where

the question relates only to matter of fact and existence; though

it is found, where that reason is properly analysed, that it is

nothing but a species of experience. To prove by experience the

origin of the universe from mind, is not more contrary to common

speech, than to prove the motion of the earth from the same

principle. And a caviller might raise all the same objections to

the Copernican system, which you have urged against my

reasonings. Have you other earths, might he say, which you have

seen to move? Have _



     Yes! cried P/HILO\, interrupting him, we have other earths.

Is not the moon another earth, which we see to turn round its

centre? Is not Venus another earth, where we observe the same

phenomenon? Are not the revolutions of the sun also a

confirmation, from analogy, of the same theory? All the planets,

are they not earths, which revolve about the sun? Are not the

satellites moons, which move round Jupiter and Saturn, and along

with these primary planets round the sun? These analogies and

resemblances, with others which I have not mentioned, are the

sole proofs of the C/OPERNICAN\ system; and to you it belongs to

consider, whether you have any analogies of the same kind to

support your theory.



     In reality, C/LEANTHES\, continued he, the modern system of

astronomy is now so much received by all inquirers, and has

become so essential a part even of our earliest education, that

we are not commonly very scrupulous in examining the reasons upon

which it is founded. It is now become a matter of mere curiosity

to study the first writers on that subject, who had the full

force of prejudice to encounter, and were obliged to turn their

arguments on every side in order to render them popular and

convincing. But if we peruse G/ALILEO\'s famous Dialogues

concerning the system of the world, we shall find, that that

great genius, one of the sublimest that ever existed, first bent

all his endeavours to prove, that there was no foundation for the

distinction commonly made between elementary and celestial

substances. The schools, proceeding from the illusions of sense,

had carried this distinction very far; and had established the

latter substances to be ingenerable, incorruptible, unalterable,

impassable; and had assigned all the opposite qualities to the

former. But G/ALILEO\, beginning with the moon, proved its

similarity in every particular to the earth; its convex figure,

its natural darkness when not illuminated, its density, its

distinction into solid and liquid, the variations of its phases,

the mutual illuminations of the earth and moon, their mutual

eclipses, the inequalities of the lunar surface, &c. After many

instances of this kind, with regard to all the planets, men

plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of

experience; and that the similarity of their nature enabled us to

extend the same arguments and phenomena from one to the other.



     In this cautious proceeding of the astronomers, you may read

your own condemnation, C/LEANTHES\; or rather may see, that the

subject in which you are engaged exceeds all human reason and

inquiry. Can you pretend to show any such similarity between the

fabric of a house, and the generation of a universe? Have you

ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles the first

arrangement of the elements? Have worlds ever been formed under

your eye; and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress

of the phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its

final consummation? If you have, then cite your experience, and

deliver your theory.



                             * * * *



                             PART 3



     How the most absurd argument, replied C/LEANTHES\, in the

hands of a man of ingenuity and invention, may acquire an air of

probability! Are you not aware, P/HILO\, that it became necessary

for Copernicus and his first disciples to prove the similarity of

the terrestrial and celestial matter; because several

philosophers, blinded by old systems, and supported by some

sensible appearances, had denied this similarity? but that it is

by no means necessary, that Theists should prove the similarity

of the works of Nature to those of Art; because this similarity

is self-evident and undeniable? The same matter, a like form;

what more is requisite to show an analogy between their causes,

and to ascertain the origin of all things from a divine purpose

and intention? Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no

better than the abstruse cavils of those philosophers who denied

motion; and ought to be refuted in the same manner, by

illustrations, examples, and instances, rather than by serious

argument and philosophy.



     Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were heard in

the clouds, much louder and more melodious than any which human

art could ever reach: Suppose, that this voice were extended in

the same instant over all nations, and spoke to each nation in

its own language and dialect: Suppose, that the words delivered

not only contain a just sense and meaning, but convey some

instruction altogether worthy of a benevolent Being, superior to

mankind: Could you possibly hesitate a moment concerning the

cause of this voice? and must you not instantly ascribe it to

some design or purpose? Yet I cannot see but all the same

objections (if they merit that appellation) which lie against the

system of Theism, may also be produced against this inference.



     Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were

founded on experience: that when we hear an articulate voice in

the dark, and thence infer a man, it is only the resemblance of

the effects which leads us to conclude that there is a like

resemblance in the cause: but that this extraordinary voice, by

its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all languages, bears so

little analogy to any human voice, that we have no reason to

suppose any analogy in their causes: and consequently, that a

rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, you know not whence,

from some accidental whistling of the winds, not from any divine

reason or intelligence? You see clearly your own objections in

these cavils, and I hope too you see clearly, that they cannot

possibly have more force in the one case than in the other.



     But to bring the case still nearer the present one of the

universe, I shall make two suppositions, which imply not any

absurdity or impossibility. Suppose that there is a natural,

universal, invariable language, common to every individual of

human race; and that books are natural productions, which

perpetuate themselves in the same manner with animals and

vegetables, by descent and propagation. Several expressions of

our passions contain a universal language: all brute animals have

a natural speech, which, however limited, is very intelligible to

their own species. And as there are infinitely fewer parts and

less contrivance in the finest composition of eloquence, than in

the coarsest organised body, the propagation of an Iliad or

Aeneid is an easier supposition than that of any plant or animal.



     Suppose, therefore, that you enter into your library, thus

peopled by natural volumes, containing the most refined reason

and most exquisite beauty; could you possibly open one of them,

and doubt, that its original cause bore the strongest analogy to

mind and intelligence? When it reasons and discourses; when it

expostulates, argues, and enforces its views and topics; when it

applies sometimes to the pure intellect, sometimes to the

affections; when it collects, disposes, and adorns every

consideration suited to the subject; could you persist in

asserting, that all this, at the bottom, had really no meaning;

and that the first formation of this volume in the loins of its

original parent proceeded not from thought and design? Your

obstinacy, I know, reaches not that degree of firmness: even your

sceptical play and wantonness would be abashed at so glaring an

absurdity.



     But if there be any difference, P/HILO\, between this

supposed case and the real one of the universe, it is all to the

advantage of the latter. The anatomy of an animal affords many

stronger instances of design than the perusal of L/IVY\ or

T/ACITUS\; and any objection which you start in the former case,

by carrying me back to so unusual and extraordinary a scene as

the first formation of worlds, the same objection has place on

the supposition of our vegetating library. Choose, then, your

party, P/HILO\, without ambiguity or evasion; assert either that

a rational volume is no proof of a rational cause, or admit of a

similar cause to all the works of nature.



     Let me here observe too, continued C/LEANTHES\, that this

religious argument, instead of being weakened by that scepticism

so much affected by you, rather acquires force from it, and

becomes more firm and undisputed. To exclude all argument or

reasoning of every kind, is either affectation or madness. The

declared profession of every reasonable sceptic is only to reject

abstruse, remote, and refined arguments; to adhere to common

sense and the plain instincts of nature; and to assent, wherever

any reasons strike him with so full a force that he cannot,

without the greatest violence, prevent it. Now the arguments for

Natural Religion are plainly of this kind; and nothing but the

most perverse, obstinate metaphysics can reject them. Consider,

anatomise the eye; survey its structure and contrivance; and tell

me, from your own feeling, if the idea of a contriver does not

immediately flow in upon you with a force like that of sensation.

The most obvious conclusion, surely, is in favour of design; and

it requires time, reflection, and study, to summon up those

frivolous, though abstruse objections, which can support

Infidelity. Who can behold the male and female of each species,

the correspondence of their parts and instincts, their passions,

and whole course of life before and after generation, but must be

sensible, that the propagation of the species is intended by

Nature? Millions and millions of such instances present

themselves through every part of the universe; and no language

can convey a more intelligible irresistible meaning, than the

curious adjustment of final causes. To what degree, therefore, of

blind dogmatism must one have attained, to reject such natural

and such convincing arguments?



     Some beauties in writing we may meet with, which seem

contrary to rules, and which gain the affections, and animate the

imagination, in opposition to all the precepts of criticism, and

to the authority of the established masters of art. And if the

argument for Theism be, as you pretend, contradictory to the

principles of logic; its universal, its irresistible influence

proves clearly, that there may be arguments of a like irregular

nature. Whatever cavils may be urged, an orderly world, as well

as a coherent, articulate speech, will still be received as an

incontestable proof of design and intention.



     It sometimes happens, I own, that the religious arguments

have not their due influence on an ignorant savage and barbarian;

not because they are obscure and difficult, but because he never

asks himself any question with regard to them. Whence arises the

curious structure of an animal? From the copulation of its

parents. And these whence? From their parents? A few removes set

the objects at such a distance, that to him they are lost in

darkness and confusion; nor is he actuated by any curiosity to

trace them further. But this is neither dogmatism nor scepticism,

but stupidity: a state of mind very different from your sifting,

inquisitive disposition, my ingenious friend. You can trace

causes from effects: You can compare the most distant and remote

objects: and your greatest errors proceed not from barrenness of

thought and invention, but from too luxuriant a fertility, which

suppresses your natural good sense, by a profusion of unnecessary

scruples and objections.



     Here I could observe, H/ERMIPPUS\, that P/HILO\ was a little

embarrassed and confounded: But while he hesitated in delivering

an answer, luckily for him, D/EMEA\ broke in upon the discourse,

and saved his countenance.



     Your instance, C/LEANTHES\, said he, drawn from books and

language, being familiar, has, I confess, so much more force on

that account: but is there not some danger too in this very

circumstance; and may it not render us presumptuous, by making us

imagine we comprehend the Deity, and have some adequate idea of

his nature and attributes? When I read a volume, I enter into the

mind and intention of the author: I become him, in a manner, for

the instant; and have an immediate feeling and conception of

those ideas which revolved in his imagination while employed in

that composition. But so near an approach we never surely can

make to the Deity. His ways are not our ways. His attributes are

perfect, but incomprehensible. And this volume of nature contains

a great and inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible

discourse or reasoning.



     The ancient P/LATONISTS\, you know, were the most religious

and devout of all the Pagan philosophers; yet many of them,

particularly P/LOTINUS\, expressly declare, that intellect or

understanding is not to be ascribed to the Deity; and that our

most perfect worship of him consists, not in acts of veneration,

reverence, gratitude, or love; but in a certain mysterious self-

annihilation, or total extinction of all our faculties. These

ideas are, perhaps, too far stretched; but still it must be

acknowledged, that, by representing the Deity as so intelligible

and comprehensible, and so similar to a human mind, we are guilty

of the grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves

the model of the whole universe.



     All the sentiments of the human mind, gratitude, resentment,

love, friendship, approbation, blame, pity, emulation, envy, have

a plain reference to the state and situation of man, and are

calculated for preserving the existence and promoting the

activity of such a being in such circumstances. It seems,

therefore, unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme

existence, or to suppose him actuated by them; and the phenomena

besides of the universe will not support us in such a theory. All

our ideas, derived from the senses, are confessedly false and

illusive; and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a

supreme intelligence: And as the ideas of internal sentiment,

added to those of the external senses, compose the whole

furniture of human understanding, we may conclude, that none of

the materials of thought are in any respect similar in the human

and in the divine intelligence. Now, as to the manner of

thinking; how can we make any comparison between them, or suppose

them any wise resembling? Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain,

fleeting, successive, and compounded; and were we to remove these

circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it would

in such a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of

thought or reason. At least if it appear more pious and

respectful (as it really is) still to retain these terms, when we

mention the Supreme Being, we ought to acknowledge, that their

meaning, in that case, is totally incomprehensible; and that the

infirmities of our nature do not permit us to reach any ideas

which in the least correspond to the ineffable sublimity of the

Divine attributes.



                             * * * *



                             PART 4



     It seems strange to me, said C/LEANTHES\, that you, D/EMEA\,

who are so sincere in the cause of religion, should still

maintain the mysterious, incomprehensible nature of the Deity,

and should insist so strenuously that he has no manner of

likeness or resemblance to human creatures. The Deity, I can

readily allow, possesses many powers and attributes of which we

can have no comprehension: But if our ideas, so far as they go,

be not just, and adequate, and correspondent to his real nature,

I know not what there is in this subject worth insisting on. Is

the name, without any meaning, of such mighty importance? Or how

do you mystics, who maintain the absolute incomprehensibility of

the Deity, differ from Sceptics or Atheists, who assert, that the

first cause of all is unknown and unintelligible? Their temerity

must be very great, if, after rejecting the production by a mind,

I mean a mind resembling the human, (for I know of no other,)

they pretend to assign, with certainty, any other specific

intelligible cause: And their conscience must be very scrupulous

indeed, if they refuse to call the universal unknown cause a God

or Deity; and to bestow on him as many sublime eulogies and

unmeaning epithets as you shall please to require of them.



     Who could imagine, replied D/EMEA\, that C/LEANTHES\, the

calm philosophical C/LEANTHES\, would attempt to refute his

antagonists by affixing a nickname to them; and, like the common

bigots and inquisitors of the age, have recourse to invective and

declamation, instead of reasoning? Or does he not perceive, that

these topics are easily retorted, and that Anthropomorphite is an

appellation as invidious, and implies as dangerous consequences,

as the epithet of Mystic, with which he has honoured us? In

reality, C/LEANTHES\, consider what it is you assert when you

represent the Deity as similar to a human mind and understanding.

What is the soul of man? A composition of various faculties,

passions, sentiments, ideas; united, indeed, into one self or

person, but still distinct from each other. When it reasons, the

ideas, which are the parts of its discourse, arrange themselves

in a certain form or order; which is not preserved entire for a

moment, but immediately gives place to another arrangement. New

opinions, new passions, new affections, new feelings arise, which

continually diversify the mental scene, and produce in it the

greatest variety and most rapid succession imaginable. How is

this compatible with that perfect immutability and simplicity

which all true Theists ascribe to the Deity? By the same act, say

they, he sees past, present, and future: His love and hatred, his

mercy and justice, are one individual operation: He is entire in

every point of space; and complete in every instant of duration.

No succession, no change, no acquisition, no diminution. What he

is implies not in it any shadow of distinction or diversity. And

what he is this moment he ever has been, and ever will be,

without any new judgement, sentiment, or operation. He stands

fixed in one simple, perfect state: nor can you ever say, with

any propriety, that this act of his is different from that other;

or that this judgement or idea has been lately formed, and will

give place, by succession, to any different judgement or idea.



     I can readily allow, said C/LEANTHES\, that those who

maintain the perfect simplicity of the Supreme Being, to the

extent in which you have explained it, are complete Mystics, and

chargeable with all the consequences which I have drawn from

their opinion. They are, in a word, Atheists, without knowing it.

For though it be allowed, that the Deity possesses attributes of

which we have no comprehension, yet ought we never to ascribe to

him any attributes which are absolutely incompatible with that

intelligent nature essential to him. A mind, whose acts and

sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive; one, that

is wholly simple, and totally immutable, is a mind which has no

thought, no reason, no will, no sentiment, no love, no hatred;

or, in a word, is no mind at all. It is an abuse of terms to give

it that appellation; and we may as well speak of limited

extension without figure, or of number without composition.



     Pray consider, said P/HILO\, whom you are at present

inveighing against. You are honouring with the appellation of

Atheist all the sound, orthodox divines, almost, who have treated

of this subject; and you will at last be, yourself, found,

according to your reckoning, the only sound Theist in the world.

But if idolaters be Atheists, as, I think, may justly be

asserted, and Christian Theologians the same, what becomes of the

argument, so much celebrated, derived from the universal consent

of mankind?



     But because I know you are not much swayed by names and

authorities, I shall endeavour to show you, a little more

distinctly, the inconveniences of that Anthropomorphism, which

you have embraced; and shall prove, that there is no ground to

suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the Divine mind,

consisting of distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the same

manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house

which he intends to execute.



     It is not easy, I own, to see what is gained by this

supposition, whether we judge of the matter by Reason or by

Experience. We are still obliged to mount higher, in order to

find the cause of this cause, which you had assigned as

satisfactory and conclusive.



     If Reason (I mean abstract reason, derived from inquiries a

priori) be not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning

cause and effect, this sentence at least it will venture to

pronounce, That a mental world, or universe of ideas, requires a

cause as much, as does a material world, or universe of objects;

and, if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar cause.

For what is there in this subject, which should occasion a

different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are

entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition,

which is not common to both of them.



     Again, when we will needs force Experience to pronounce some

sentence, even on these subjects which lie beyond her sphere,

neither can she perceive any material difference in this

particular, between these two kinds of worlds; but finds them to

be governed by similar principles, and to depend upon an equal

variety of causes in their operations. We have specimens in

miniature of both of them. Our own mind resembles the one; a

vegetable or animal body the other. Let experience, therefore,

judge from these samples. Nothing seems more delicate, with

regard to its causes, than thought; and as these causes never

operate in two persons after the same manner, so we never find

two persons who think exactly alike. Nor indeed does the same

person think exactly alike at any two different periods of time.

A difference of age, of the disposition of his body, of weather,

of food, of company, of books, of passions; any of these

particulars, or others more minute, are sufficient to alter the

curious machinery of thought, and communicate to it very

different movements and operations. As far as we can judge,

vegetables and animal bodies are not more delicate in their

motions, nor depend upon a greater variety or more curious

adjustment of springs and principles.



     How, therefore, shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the

cause of that Being whom you suppose the Author of Nature, or,

according to your system of Anthropomorphism, the ideal world,

into which you trace the material? Have we not the same reason to

trace that ideal world into another ideal world, or new

intelligent principle? But if we stop, and go no further; why go

so far? why not stop at the material world? How can we satisfy

ourselves without going on in infinitum? And, after all, what

satisfaction is there in that infinite progression? Let us

remember the story of the Indian philosopher and his elephant. It

was never more applicable than to the present subject. If the

material world rests upon a similar ideal world, this ideal world

must rest upon some other; and so on, without end. It were

better, therefore, never to look beyond the present material

world. By supposing it to contain the principle of its order

within itself, we really assert it to be God; and the sooner we

arrive at that Divine Being, so much the better. When you go one

step beyond the mundane system, you only excite an inquisitive

humour which it is impossible ever to satisfy.



     To say, that the different ideas which compose the reason of

the Supreme Being, fall into order of themselves, and by their

own nature, is really to talk without any precise meaning. If it

has a meaning, I would fain know, why it is not as good sense to

say, that the parts of the material world fall into order of

themselves and by their own nature. Can the one opinion be

intelligible, while the other is not so?



     We have, indeed, experience of ideas which fall into order

of themselves, and without any known cause. But, I am sure, we

have a much larger experience of matter which does the same; as,

in all instances of generation and vegetation, where the accurate

analysis of the cause exceeds all human comprehension. We have

also experience of particular systems of thought and of matter

which have no order; of the first in madness, of the second in

corruption. Why, then, should we think, that order is more

essential to one than the other? And if it requires a cause in

both, what do we gain by your system, in tracing the universe of

objects into a similar universe of ideas? The first step which we

make leads us on for ever. It were, therefore, wise in us to

limit all our inquiries to the present world, without looking

further. No satisfaction can ever be attained by these

speculations, which so far exceed the narrow bounds of human

understanding.



     It was usual with the P/ERIPATETICS\, you know, C/LEANTHES\,

when the cause of any phenomenon was demanded, to have recourse

to their faculties or occult qualities; and to say, for instance,

that bread nourished by its nutritive faculty, and senna19 purged

by its purgative. But it has been discovered, that this

subterfuge was nothing but the disguise of ignorance; and that

these philosophers, though less ingenuous, really said the same

thing with the sceptics or the vulgar, who fairly confessed that

they knew not the cause of these phenomena. In like manner, when

it is asked, what cause produces order in the ideas of the

Supreme Being; can any other reason be assigned by you,

Anthropomorphites, than that it is a rational faculty, and that

such is the nature of the Deity? But why a similar answer will

not be equally satisfactory in accounting for the order of the

world, without having recourse to any such intelligent creator as

you insist on, may be difficult to determine. It is only to say,

that such is the nature of material objects, and that they are

all originally possessed of a faculty of order and proportion.

These are only more learned and elaborate ways of confessing our

ignorance; nor has the one hypothesis any real advantage above

the other, except in its greater conformity to vulgar prejudices.



     You have displayed this argument with great emphasis,

replied C/LEANTHES\: You seem not sensible how easy it is to

answer it. Even in common life, if I assign a cause for any

event, is it any objection, P/HILO\, that I cannot assign the

cause of that cause, and answer every new question which may

incessantly be started? And what philosophers could possibly

submit to so rigid a rule? philosophers, who confess ultimate

causes to be totally unknown; and are sensible, that the most

refined principles into which they trace the phenomena, are still

to them as inexplicable as these phenomena themselves are to the

vulgar. The order and arrangement of nature, the curious

adjustment of final causes, the plain use and intention of every

part and organ; all these bespeak in the clearest language an

intelligent cause or author. The heavens and the earth join in

the same testimony: The whole chorus of Nature raises one hymn to

the praises of its Creator. You alone, or almost alone, disturb

this general harmony. You start abstruse doubts, cavils, and

objections: You ask me, what is the cause of this cause? I know

not; I care not; that concerns not me. I have found a Deity; and

here I stop my inquiry. Let those go further, who are wiser or

more enterprising.



     I pretend to be neither, replied P/HILO\: And for that very

reason, I should never perhaps have attempted to go so far;

especially when I am sensible, that I must at last be contented

to sit down with the same answer, which, without further trouble,

might have satisfied me from the beginning. If I am still to

remain in utter ignorance of causes, and can absolutely give an

explication of nothing, I shall never esteem it any advantage to

shove off for a moment a difficulty, which, you acknowledge, must

immediately, in its full force, recur upon me. Naturalists indeed

very justly explain particular effects by more general causes,

though these general causes themselves should remain in the end

totally inexplicable; but they never surely thought it

satisfactory to explain a particular effect by a particular

cause, which was no more to be accounted for than the effect

itself. An ideal system, arranged of itself, without a precedent

design, is not a whit more explicable than a material one, which

attains its order in a like manner; nor is there any more

difficulty in the latter supposition than in the former.



                             * * * *



                             PART 5



     But to show you still more inconveniences, continued

P/HILO\, in your Anthropomorphism, please to take a new survey of

your principles. Like effects prove like causes. This is the

experimental argument; and this, you say too, is the sole

theological argument. Now, it is certain, that the liker the

effects are which are seen, and the liker the causes which are

inferred, the stronger is the argument. Every departure on either

side diminishes the probability, and renders the experiment less

conclusive. You cannot doubt of the principle; neither ought you

to reject its consequences.



     All the new discoveries in astronomy, which prove the

immense grandeur and magnificence of the works of Nature, are so

many additional arguments for a Deity, according to the true

system of Theism; but, according to your hypothesis of

experimental Theism, they become so many objections, by removing

the effect still further from all resemblance to the effects of

human art and contrivance. For, if L/UCRETIUS\, even following

the old system of the world, could exclaim,



     Quis regere immensi summam, quis habere profundi

     Indu manu validas potis est moderanter habenas?

     Quis pariter coelos omnes convertere? et omnes

     Ignibus aetheriis terras suffire feraces?

     Omnibus inque locis esse omni tempore praesto?20

     

     If T/ULLY\ esteemed this reasoning so natural, as to put it

into the mouth of his E/PICUREAN\:



     "Quibus enim oculis animi intueri potuit vester Plato

     fabricam illam tanti operis, qua construi a Deo atque

     aedificari mundum facit? quae molitio? quae ferramenta? qui

     vectes? quae machinae? qui ministri tanti muneris fuerunt?

     quemadmodum autem obedire et parere voluntati architecti

     aer, ignis, aqua, terra potuerunt?" 21



If this argument, I say, had any force in former ages, how much

greater must it have at present, when the bounds of Nature are so

infinitely enlarged, and such a magnificent scene is opened to

us? It is still more unreasonable to form our idea of so

unlimited a cause from our experience of the narrow productions

of human design and invention.



     The discoveries by microscopes, as they open a new universe

in miniature, are still objections, according to you, arguments,

according to me. The further we push our researches of this kind,

we are still led to infer the universal cause of all to be vastly

different from mankind, or from any object of human experience

and observation.



     And what say you to the discoveries in anatomy, chemistry,

botany? _ These surely are no objections, replied C/LEANTHES\;

they only discover new instances of art and contrivance. It is

still the image of mind reflected on us from innumerable objects.

Add, a mind like the human, said P/HILO\. I know of no other,

replied C/LEANTHES\. And the liker the better, insisted P/HILO\.

To be sure, said C/LEANTHES\ .



     Now, C/LEANTHES\, said P/HILO\, with an air of alacrity and

triumph, mark the consequences. First, By this method of

reasoning, you renounce all claim to infinity in any of the

attributes of the Deity. For, as the cause ought only to be

proportioned to the effect, and the effect, so far as it falls

under our cognisance, is not infinite; what pretensions have we,

upon your suppositions, to ascribe that attribute to the Divine

Being? You will still insist, that, by removing him so much from

all similarity to human creatures, we give in to the most

arbitrary hypothesis, and at the same time weaken all proofs of

his existence.



     Secondly, You have no reason, on your theory, for ascribing

perfection to the Deity, even in his finite capacity, or for

supposing him free from every error, mistake, or incoherence, in

his undertakings. There are many inexplicable difficulties in the

works of Nature, which, if we allow a perfect author to be proved

a priori, are easily solved, and become only seeming

difficulties, from the narrow capacity of man, who cannot trace

infinite relations. But according to your method of reasoning,

these difficulties become all real; and perhaps will be insisted

on, as new instances of likeness to human art and contrivance. At

least, you must acknowledge, that it is impossible for us to

tell, from our limited views, whether this system contains any

great faults, or deserves any considerable praise, if compared to

other possible, and even real systems. Could a peasant, if the

Aeneid were read to him, pronounce that poem to be absolutely

faultless, or even assign to it its proper rank among the

productions of human wit, he, who had never seen any other

production?



     But were this world ever so perfect a production, it must

still remain uncertain, whether all the excellences of the work

can justly be ascribed to the workman. If we survey a ship, what

an exalted idea must we form of the ingenuity of the carpenter

who framed so complicated, useful, and beautiful a machine? And

what surprise must we feel, when we find him a stupid mechanic,

who imitated others, and copied an art, which, through a long

succession of ages, after multiplied trials, mistakes,

corrections, deliberations, and controversies, had been gradually

improving? Many worlds might have been botched and bungled,

throughout an eternity, ere this system was struck out; much

labour lost, many fruitless trials made; and a slow, but

continued improvement carried on during infinite ages in the art

of world-making. In such subjects, who can determine, where the

truth; nay, who can conjecture where the probability lies, amidst

a great number of hypotheses which may be proposed, and a still

greater which may be imagined?



     And what shadow of an argument, continued P/HILO\, can you

produce, from your hypothesis, to prove the unity of the Deity? A

great number of men join in building a house or ship, in rearing

a city, in framing a commonwealth; why may not several deities

combine in contriving and framing a world? This is only so much

greater similarity to human affairs. By sharing the work among

several, we may so much further limit the attributes of each, and

get rid of that extensive power and knowledge, which must be

supposed in one deity, and which, according to you, can only

serve to weaken the proof of his existence. And if such foolish,

such vicious creatures as man, can yet often unite in framing and

executing one plan, how much more those deities or demons, whom

we may suppose several degrees more perfect!



     To multiply causes without necessity, is indeed contrary to

true philosophy: but this principle applies not to the present

case. Were one deity antecedently proved by your theory, who were

possessed of every attribute requisite to the production of the

universe; it would be needless, I own, (though not absurd,) to

suppose any other deity existent. But while it is still a

question, Whether all these attributes are united in one subject,

or dispersed among several independent beings, by what phenomena

in nature can we pretend to decide the controversy? Where we see

a body raised in a scale, we are sure that there is in the

opposite scale, however concealed from sight, some counterpoising

weight equal to it; but it is still allowed to doubt, whether

that weight be an aggregate of several distinct bodies, or one

uniform united mass. And if the weight requisite very much

exceeds any thing which we have ever seen conjoined in any single

body, the former supposition becomes still more probable and

natural. An intelligent being of such vast power and capacity as

is necessary to produce the universe, or, to speak in the

language of ancient philosophy, so prodigious an animal exceeds

all analogy, and even comprehension.



     But further, C/LEANTHES\: men are mortal, and renew their

species by generation; and this is common to all living

creatures. The two great sexes of male and female, says M/ILTON\,

animate the world. Why must this circumstance, so universal, so

essential, be excluded from those numerous and limited deities?

Behold, then, the theogony of ancient times brought back upon us.