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ON THE WHOLE DOCTRINE
OF FINAL CAUSES.

A DISSERTATION IN THREE PARTS,

WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER ON
THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM.

BY WILLIAM J. IRONS, M.A.
OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD, AND CURATE OF ST. MAKy's,
NEWINGTON, SURREY.

nATEP AIKAIE, KAI 'O K02M02 2E OYK ErNfl, Em AE 2E
ErNflN, KAI 'OTTOI ETNfiXAN 'OTI 2T ME AIIE2TEIAA2- KAI
ETNnPISA ATT0J2 TO ONOMA 20T. IH20T2.

LONDON :
J., G., & F. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH- YARD,
AND WATERLOO-PLACE. 1836.

PREFACE.

So little attention is ordinarily paid to what
an Author says of his own performance, that a
Preface is now almost thought to be a super
fluous piece of labour. But for the sake of
those who may yet consider it as a courtesy
due to the Reader, as well as for my own
sake, I shall venture to trespass for a few
lines. It may appear to many, that the phrase
" Whole Doctrine," used in the Title-page,
requires some explanation ; which, I own, I
have difficulty in briefly giving ; though on a
general review of the Dissertation, I cannot
persuade myself to alter it. I would, indeed,
if it be necessary, disclaim the vanity of im
plying thereby, that much more may not be
said on this subject, than I have brought for
ward : and yet I must say, that I have
attempted to ascertain the exact Truth, that is
to say, the " Whole Doctrine," in opposition

IV PREFACE.
to the partial depreciations of some writers,
and exaggerations of others. And I cannot
help thinking, that if I were to omit the word
" Whole," the title would be less suitable to
the book than it is at present. Whether it be
so, or not ; or whether the question be of any
importance, I must leave to the decision of
the Public, who will be the ultimate judges,
not of this only-, but (which is of much more
consequence) of the Book itself.
I could not acquit myself of ingratitude, if
I were here to omit all reference to the late
Regius Professor of Divinity, in the University
of Oxford, the Rev. Edward Burton, D.D.,
whose loss the Church and the University
have such deep and painful reason to deplore.
Having received the permission of that dis
tinguished divine to dedicate this Dissertation
to him, I am bound to state, that he could
not have been held responsible for every
opinion herein advanced. Well knowing that
no patronage could ultimately benefit any
book which is destitute of all intrinsic merit,
I was yet induced to seek the sanction of
Professor Burton's name, thinking that it
might secure a fair portion of attention for an

PREFACE.

unknown author, which in the crowd and
bustle of the world, he might not otherwise
have obtained. I was also anxious to testify
the high respect which I then bore to his
character ; and with which I now regard his
memory ; as a man, who by his learned and
arduous labours, had so ably supported the
cause of sound Christianity ; whicli sacred
cause, I venture to hope that this Dissertation
may contribute in some degree to maintain.
My motives for seeking the learned Professor's
sanction cannot now, I trust, be liable to mis
construction ; and I will not pretend that in
giving me that sanction, he intended any thing
more than an expression of his kind estimate
of my character. I could, indeed, wish that
this Volume were more worthy of such
patronage. In the hope of making it so, I
have already delayed its publication for
several months. The new and arduous duties
which I have been called to perform, (which
left me no leisure even to correct the press,) are
my sole excuse for the brevity and imperfection
of the Third Part of the Work in particular ;
the subject of which is of such powerful inter
est and high importance, that I purpose at
some future time, should my present attempt

VI PREFACE.
prove successful, to publish a distinct treatise
upon it.
With regard to one particular, in the style
of the Dissertation, I crave some indulgence ;
I fear that I may sometimes appear egotistic,
because I have not in general moulded my
sentences in the fashionable plural form,
[" we"] nor in the awkward impersonal sin
gular : which results from this circumstance ;
that while I was writing, my thoughts generally
flowed in the same channel as if I had been
speaking, and I could not afterwards alter it,
without introducing a wearisome uniformity
and pompous stiffness, which would have been
intolerable. And I conceived that this rheto
rical manner might not be very reprehensible
(unless it degenerated into looseness of expres
sion) in a professed Dissertation ; which is, so
to speak, a kind of oration at the bar of
Human Reason.
, An apology may, I freely admit, be re
quired, for the style of some part of the Intro
ductory Chapter, especially in a work of this
kind, where precision of expression is to be
expected. But I have thought that the

PREFACE. Vll
practical truths therein enforced might per
haps produce a stronger impression, by being
communicated in the natural, if somewhat
impassioned, language, in which they were
first written, than if they were enunciated in a
milder tone, and with a more rigid manner.
Of the subject-matter of the Volume, it
were needless for me to speak, as no observa
tions of mine can enhance its momentous
importance; and all necessary information
respecting my drift and design, will be found
in the commencement of the Dissertation.
As Truth has been my object, and not singu
larity of sentiment, it will not seem strange that
I have sometimes advanced opinions which
have been held by those who have preceded
me in the same inquiry. And though I hope
that some important Truths, which seem to a
great extent to have escaped previous obser
vation, are here put forth ; and some plausible
errors detected ; (otherwise, I could have no
right to appear thus before the public ;) yet
I cannot of course pretend that all is novel,
which is here brought forward. I have some
times only attempted a clearer statement and
development of admitted Truth ; which may,

Vlll PREFACE.
perhaps, be oftentimes ~as valuable as original
discovery. " If I have done well, it is that
which I desired ; if I have done ill, it is that
which I could attain unto."
But if, while earnestly endeavouring lo dis
cover Truth, I have unwittingly said any
thing injurious thereto, it is my hearty desire
that it may meet with that faithful exposure
which error deserves ; and which is as distinct
from asperity of censure, as honesty is from
ill-nature. From the Critics who may honour me with
their notice, I have no right to demand indul
gence for my errors, whatever may be the
character of my motives. I only ask, there
fore, what I have but little doubt that I shall
obtain, the fair and candid treatment which
fellow-workers in the mine of Truth have a
right to expect of each other.

INTRODUCTION.

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM.
The history of man, for nearly six thousand years,
presents us with the phenomenon of a slowly-ad
vancing civilization, which forms a stern antithesis
to those visions and hopes of the future, which
Philanthropists often entertain. This tardy progress
of human society is not to be accounted for by vain
glorious imputations on the intelligence of former
times. They who ascribe so much to modern illumi
nation, and speculate largely on the possible exten
sion of knowledge and happiness, are not therefore the
wisest or most thoughtful of their generation. In
their bold calculations of the glories of a coming era,
they take but little notice of the obstacles which
always arise to thwart the operation of the noblest
schemes, and render abortive the strongest efforts for
promoting human good. Above all, they forget that
mighty counteracting cause — the original depravity
of the hearts of men — which (unchecked, as the ma
jority always are, by a sense of religion) bursts forth,
overpoweringly, from time to time, bearing down the

2 INTRODUCTION.
virtue of the good, and defying the sagacity of the
wise. Thus, it would seem that " vain philosophy "
delights to build faery palaces on the ridges of a
volcano, beneath which, evermore, the pent-up lava
boils and flames.
The Moral Eras in the history of our race are but
few, and have generally been accomplished by the
operation of unobserved causes. Nature loves not
to usher in her great events with pomp and ostenta
tious noise. We pass from the old year to the new,
and hear no announcement of the change ; and thus
when man is passing from one stage of civilization
to another — when one moral cycle is completed, and
another is about to begin — no trumpet's voice is heard
proclaiming it to the Universe.
But the transition is not the less real, because thus
silently performed, and unmarked by the multitude.
— When the obscure shepherds of Judea hastened to
the villages of Palestine, telling that they had seen at
midnight a sudden glory, and had heard mysterious
music from a choir of the descended Seraphim — the
great, and wise, and noble of the earth knew nothing
of the era that then began to dawn on man
kind. The few who listened to the wonderful story
might smile at what they deemed a rustic reverie.
But it was then, in very truth, that an era com
menced, of all Eras the greatest, the influence
whereof shall be felt and seen in all future time !
HE who then " came to visit us in all humility "
made known to man " the mystery hid from ages and

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 3
generations " — a lowly individual of a despised
people, HE revealed a religion which, by the native
might of goodness and of truth, was destined, ere
long, to shake (that citadel of falsehood) the massy
fabric of Heathen superstition ; and which finally '
overthrew the most gigantic confederacy of priestly
jealousy, political hatred, and imperial power, that
had been ever known among mankind. He sent
forth his unarmed messengers to proclaim war with
the opinions of all men — bidding them to spare no
prejudices, but trample on the idols, and set at
nought the philosophy of the world. And the
spiritual kingdom which they founded (however its
advances to universal dominion may be checked for
a time) shall eventually prevail against all oppo
sition ; for the decree which once went forth will not
be revoked — " The nation and kingdom that will
not serve thee, shall perish, yea those nations shall
be utterly wasted ! "
But no Era, no moral revolution in the history of
man, ought to come upon us unawares. There are
unerring signs whereby the change may be foreseen.
Though the nations be keeping high festival — like
the Chaldean monarch of old — a solitary hand
"coming forth from the obscure" may be tracing
words of omen, which seem to have no meaning to
the ungifted gaze of the careless passer-by ! Or it
may happen that the minds of all men are possessed
with vague and general apprehension of what is
about to be — and they will stand in expectation, like
b 2

4 INTRODUCTION.
the inhabitants of a city who have heard the rum
bling of an earthquake, and are waiting for the
shock. And, when this is not the case, there will be
fore-runners — philosophers or prophets — the har
bingers of future times. They may be scorned or
martyred — for (in the language of the German
poet)
" These have been always crucified and burned I"1
but they leave their testimony behind them. An
Era is at hand !
Oftentimes before that Era may arrive, the external
aspect of things may be such as to lead the superficial
to conclude, that all change must be far distant.
There may be a strong revulsion in the general
feeling — a sudden check to the onward progress of
events, and even a recurrence to the abandoned
opinions and maxims of a former time. The super
ficial will be deceived, and conclude, that now the
advancing tide of human things has ebbed once more,
therefore it will never return ; while the next flowing
of the waters may sweep away some huge promon
tory that seemed eternal !
Even now, while I write, an Era may be at hand !
Whoever will look steadily at the moral aspect of
Christendom, at the present moment, may find abun
dant reason for anxious thought and perplexed
anticipation. 1 From a MS. translation of Goethe's Faust — by a Gentleman
formerly of Queen's College, Oxford.

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 5
Romish Christianity, and a liberal Deism possess
the continent of Europe. The advocates of a
rnaximum and a minimum of Faith dwell strangely
together, in perfect amity, mutually tolerating each
other. Not the Romanism of the 16th century, nor
the Deism of the 18th, — for these could never co
exist. The experiment was tried in France a hundred
years ago, and after short lapse of time the hostile
principles came into actual contact, and in their ex
plosion shattered even the iron frame-work of Feudal
society ! The Romanist and the Infidel have alike
learned wisdom ; both have moderated their preten
sions. But their natures are not changed, though
their characters be modified. The modern liberal
Deism is by its very nature aggressive ; and the best
terms which Romanism can obtain of her ancient
enemy only provide, that the aggression shall be
made by a gradual process, which may postpone, for
a while, all serious danger. The two parties appear,
with mutual concession, to meet each other half-way.
An Abbe may now preach the doctrines of Neology
without provoking the thunders of the Vatican ; while,
on the other hand, the " Enlightened" acquiesce in
the miracles of the mendicant priests, deeming some
superstition necessary, at present, for the vulgar.
And can we doubt of the tendency of this state of
things? — The present generation in France1 have not
1 More than half the children born in Paris are illegitimate.
More than half the poor die in Hospitals ! — See Alison's Hist.
of the French Revolution:

6 INTRODUCTION.
now recovered from the effects of the almost Atheistic
education of their infancy and childhood; and, in like
manner, will the rising population of Europe have
entailed on them the curse of the crude infidelity and
liberalized religion of their fathers.
England — separated from the great continental
nations by her insular position, her religion, and
even her prejudices — was long preserved from the
contagion of foreign Infidelity and Superstition.
At length the plague has reached even to us.
Without doubt it is, in some degree, tempered by our
peculiar climate, but the symptoms of the disorder
are undeniable. However much the truth be dis
guised, we cannot be ignorant that, within the last
twenty years, there has been a rapid spread among
us of subtle modifications of Popery and Infidelity.
Increased intercourse with Europe brought with
it new opinions, new habits, and eventually new in
stitutions. It has been remarked, that even our old
national parties are extinct, and new ones have risen
up, analogous to those on the continent — the de
fenders and the aggressors — the religious and the
" liberal." Yet it may be seen, that there is this striking
distinction between the present condition of England
and that of the rest of the nations : — The contest of
our parties, instead of being a mere " War of
opinions" seems likely to assume a Religious
character. And it may surely be marked as a circumstance of
high import. For if a manly, rational, and scrip-

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 7
tural Christianity is not to be wholly swept from the
earth — if it is to be any where preserved for future
generations — where shall it be, if not in England ?
Three hundred years have passed, since England
was severed from Papal Europe, and assumed that
character which she has since sustained. She has
been placed on a proud eminence. From the days
¦ of the Reformation until now, her Church has been
looked to, as the bulwark of the Reformed Faith — the
headquarters of the Protestantism of the world. She
arose, as from the slumber of ages — shook off, with
giant strength, the mass of weighty corruptions that
had accumulated in the darkness, and stood forth,
dauntless in her purity — the witness for God, amidst
" a world lying in wickedness."
" Truth's deathless voice had paus'd among mankind" —
but, now, it was heard once more ! — and the
nations were thrilled with tumultuous expectations,
" As some lone man who in a desert hears
The music of his home."
Centuries of ignorance and darkness had gone
before, while there had risen up, but at intervals,
some solitary Wicliffe, to herald the coming change.
But at length it burst upon the world.
The most powerful engine that had ever been
brought to bear on human civilization, and which
must itself be considered as marking an era in man's
history, — the Printing-press, — had been in previous
operation, and, by its silent agency, accelerated the
mighty crisis of the Reformation. The Rulers of this

8 INTRODUCTION.
world mingled variously in the events of that most
momentous time, and have left a various fame behind
them— of * ambition,1 policy,2 treachery,3 virtuous
magnanimity,* or enthusiasm of religious chivalry5.
But the Reformation was the result of a mightier
power than theirs.
That Era, doubtless, brought with it its blessings
and its curses : a future era may annihilate the latter,
and leave only the former. The pulpit and the press,
without denial, have spread controversy and dissen
sion where formerly the unanimity of ignorance had
prevailed ; but this may only be the necessary ordeal
through which man must pass, to arrive at a nobler
state, — the unanimity of knowledge. The weapons
of religious strife, in these later times, niay (if the
parallel be allowable) be likened to the fatal machi
nery of modern warfare, which, while it fearfully
augments the sanguinary character of war, diminishes
its moral malignity and the frequency of its occur
rence, and may possibly lead at last to that glorious
period, when " there shall be war no more."
The divines of the English Reformation, like
armed champions, clothed in the mail of their
" ponderous erudition," bore down resistlessly on
their encamped enemies, and, with an ardour that
dared danger and death, achieved an immortal vic
tory. Their immediate descendants retained all their
high-wrought zeal; but the mantle of cloistered
* > Henry VIII. ; * Leo X. ; « Charles V. ; * Frederick of Saxony;
and s Gustavus of Sweden, may be instanced.

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 9
learning descended not on them. It was a fatal loss,1
and, as such, not unperceived by the enemies of the
reformed faith, both Romish and Infidel. These,
though maintaining hostility to each other, adroitly
availed themselves of the error of their common
foe, and sedulously cultivated the lore which the
descendants of the Reformers had neglected. They
solicited not then the suffrages of the populace — for
that had been a vain attempt, — but, in the still retire
ment of a philosophic or a courtly circle, defended,
with elaborate care, the superstitions of the past, or
the scepticism of the coming age.
But far different are the times wherein our lot is
cast. Our Reformed Church now emulates the learn
ing of her early confessors and martyrs, but seems
almost fearful of a revival of their enthusiastic zeal for
God and truth ; and Romanism and Infidelity have
taken signal advantage of her error. For with them
may now be found the popular eloquence of the press,
the pulpit, and the platform ! Their wisdom despises
not auxiliaries so strong : they have abandoned their
ancient hatred to each other ; and hoping, at length,
to enlist on their side the honest earnestness and
powerful prejudices of the populace, they have
united their forces, for open war, beneath banners
inscribed with the outraged name of " Liberal!"
The Infidel, as the more powerful of the two allies,
dictates the terms of the confederacy ; and the Ro-
1 Deeply deplored by Bishop Jewel. See the Life prefixed to
the Apology, p. 62. See also Lulheri Epist. vol. ii. 307.

10 INTRODUCTION.
manist, as the reward of his faithfulness to the
common cause, claims to be second ruler in the
kingdom of the New Antichrist.
There was a time when less of policy was wont to
mark the counsels of the Infidel ; there was a time —
nor has it long passed by — when the apostles of dis
belief, inspired with fiendly madness, foamed forth
their rabid blasphemies of the " rights of '' — devils,
to lay waste the peace of earth and defy the majesty
of heaven ! What marvel was it, that then, all men,
as by a common instinct, recoiled from the hideous
absurdities of possessed savages — the unnatural enor
mities of naked demoniac ferocity? But now the
Infidel and his new ally, have left unused no popular
artifice, which fraud could suggest or dishonesty
employ. They are conciliatory in their tone, and
moderate, though steady and undisguised in their
advances. They enter on no sudden crusade against
the established opinions of the multitude ; but rather
engage their worst passions in their favor, by direct
ing all their fierce hostility against, what they
insolently call, the " bigotry" of those who are
the staunch foes alike of irreligion and superstition,
and who are, as yet, the authorised teachers of our
people. But Romanism can, in this country, and in these
times, only advance, under the protection of the
ample shield of " liberal'' infidelity, and it behoves
us to know well this our arch-enemy.
The infidelity of this age assumes a Deistic rather

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 11
than a sceptical or Atheistic form. If it had been
otherwise, it could not have kept terms with Popery.
If it had been otherwise, it could never have be
come extensively popular. It seems to be tacitly
admitted that there is a kind of germ of " natural
religion," which is the only essential part of everj
creed that is found among men ; which the philo
sopher may see and appreciate in them all, while
he winks at the peculiar follies which may accom
pany it. The coarse and infamous maxim, which,
at its first announcement long since was repu
diated with disgust, now passes current among us
— 'that a man is no more accountable for his re-/
ligious belief, than for the colour of his dress.'1 This'
it is which is now vaunted as " liberality." Need I
bid the christian to recall, and place side by side
with this impiety, (this black stigma upon the vera
city of God !) the dread denunciations, on the one
hand, or the " hope full of immortality," on the other,
wherewith our divine master accompanied his mes
sage of salvation to man?  But " liberality" is now
" all in all," and honesty passes for nothing! Libe
rality, which, being interpreted, means nothing less
than latitude in religion, and discontent in politics.
There are those, even in what is called (perhaps to
distinguish it from the church) the " religious world,"
who cherish this spirit, which wears so fair a name.
There are those (and it were needless to define them
more plainly) who find a specious " common ground"
1 Lord Brougham.

12 INTRODUCTION.
whereon they may meet and associate with the pro
fessor, or the despiser, of every creed ; who seem to
imagine that a " voluntary" surrender of honesty, is
to be regarded as the precursor of a smooth millennium
now gradually drawing nigh ! A prospect, indeed,
less like to that which the thoughtful christian may
look for, than to the delusive dreams of the visionary
philanthropist; which yet (alas !) are too often deemed
sufficient data for the fantastic schemes of our econo
mic and reforming patriots !
The Christian Church of this realm has, indeed, a
powerful enemy to encounter — an enemy, at onetime,
vindictive and fierce, with menacing brow, and insult
ing tongue ; at another, approaching with gentle
smiles and words of courtesy. But our church is not
now ignorant of her dangers ; and let her not be
unmindful of the honour, which, in past times as well
as these present, has been conferred upon her; in that
she is selected as the " witness for the truth !" — for she
will answer it to her God, if she be either awed by
terrors, or seduced by treacherous wiles !
It is not reasoning, or thoughtfulness ; but, I repeat,
a false " liberality," which is at once the parent and
| the patron of modern Infidelity. A liberality in mo-
| rals, which will forgive all delinquencies, save those
1 that are openly scandalous. A liberality in religion,
which pardons all motley varieties of creeds, reserv
ing its sole anathema for honest uncompromising
Christianity. For not only is a reverence for the
authority of the Church counted a mark of supersti-

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 13
tion and weakness, but hardly can a man, in modern
life, give utterance to a peculiarly Christian sentiment,
without drawing on himself the cold glances of his
wondering friends ; and he must express himself with
scrupulous caution, if he would avoid the blasting
imputation of fanaticism or monomania. And there
fore even christian men, of unblemished lives and
undoubting faith, too often blink their true principles
when they intermix with the world's society ; and
listen, without reproving, to dogmas of falsehood, to
unchristian morality, or perhaps to scoffing ribaldry.
To this is it owing, that even when the actual
subject of discourse is connected with the Christian
faith, it is toned down to the fastidious ears of the
" liberal," so that but a hair's-breadth is left, between
Christianity and pure Deism. And indeed, it might
well become us to reflect, how large a portion of what
passes as Christianity is but Deism in disguise !
For the tactics of Infidelity are now such as the
world has not seen before. There is no direct
assault ; but a hypocritical parley is proclaimed, to
give time for the process of undermining.
Advantage is taken of the differences among
Christians, to inculcate a belief in the " uncertainty"
or uselessness of religion ; — which is about as ra
tional a conclusion as to infer, from the differences
among governments, that all government is evil, and
anarchy the greatest benefit ! But any sophistry is
successful when men's hearts are willing to be de
ceived by their heads. And thus the opinion gains

14 INTRODUCTION.
ground, that in matters of faith, all questions, of more
or less, are of but trifling moment ; while, at the same
time, the Christian " Revelation" and the Christian
" Church," may be artfully mentioned in terms of
respectful apathy.
This same spirit of " liberality" which has thus
blighted the social Christianity of our land, has
breathed its influence over a large portion of our
literature. Too often are
" Jehovah ! Jove, and Lord,"
most profanely classed together. Too often have
even professed Christian writers gracefully diluted
the peculiar doctrines of our religion, to make their
volumes palatable to the literary sceptic, or escape the
,' sneer of " liberal" criticism. If in their pages " our
Saviour" is spoken of at all, it is almost in such in
distinct and general terms as might suit the master
in a purer school of morals, but which seem too like
1 degradation when applied to him "Who thought
i it not robbery to be equal with God." Or, at the
i best, He is referred to as a Benefactor of our race,
who perhaps made the pathway to heaven somewhat
more convenient ! While the stern but unpalatable
Christian Truth is forgotten— (though pronounced
; by the voice of our Redeemer himself, when on earth)
\ " I am The Way — The Truth — and the Life!
No man cometh unto the Father but by Me !"
It may doubtless be urged, with truth, that the
guilty extravagances of sectarian folly have struck
aghast the sober believer. The fierce Sirocco-blast

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 15
of fanatical frenzy has, truly, seared the verdure of
the " Garden of the Lord.'' And thus it is, that a
strict profession of Christianity is, oftentimes, now
reckoned a reproach. Thus it is, that the idea of a
caricature of Holiness has almost become identified
with the very name of "sanctity" — and too often
may we search far, and search vainly — for a true
portraiture of a " Saint " of God ! And should it be
thus? Are we to be frightened out of sincerity?
— sneered out of truth ? — laughed out of holiness ?
Or is it indeed a mark of sober wisdom, to sit
still as if stunned into Stoicism, because we are
appalled at the ghastly activities of some exulting
maniac ?
It is true, that Infidelity has found many a bitter
sarcasm against our faith, in the ardent vagaries of
false or misguided enthusiasts. It is true, that the
fiery footmarks of unthinking zealots have left a
brand on the ground which they scorched as they
traversed. It is true, that dishonesty and ignorance
have both assumed the mask of earnestness.1 But
it is also true, that the infidel has availed himself,
with equal dexterity, of the dormant calmness of
our conscious orthodoxy. And, indeed, true heart-
relio-ion has more to fear, in this world's cold
atmosphere, from the chill of neglect, than from
the warmth of over-nourishment. If the hoar frost
continue too long in its unmitigated rigour, it will
1 But, as some one observed of Italian preaching, " C'est un
fureur systematique !"

16 INTRODUCTION.
extinguish the vitality of vegetation as surely, if not
as suddenly, as the scorching sun, or the stroke of
the withering lightning.
The erudite, though sophistical, Infidelity of the
last century was not encountered and overthrown
by flimsy declamation, but by volumes weighty with
argument, and resistless in their vigorous eloquence.
And thus, too, the more popular Deism of our times
must be met with appropriate weapons. And let no
man call it a descent from our high vantage-ground
of reason and of truth, where we might for ever
remain intrenched alone. Let not the Christian
think it beneath him to employ intelligible argu
ments, and the simple eloquence of earnestness, in
so high a matter. Shall the pride of dialectical
skill, or the coldness of classic reasoning, hinder
the minister of God in the great work of human
salvation ?
So far as the Deistical philosophy is argumenta
tive, it may be combatted by abstract reasoning;
but Deism is not, in these times, confined to those
who reason. Perhaps the majority of its disciples
are implicit believers, who embrace it because so
concise a creed is acquired with but little trouble ;
and, in addition to its convenience in other respects,
obtains for its professors a small, but, to them, a
flattering reputation for some degree of attainment or
acuteness. This species of popular philosophy, such
as it is, is a compound of heterogeneous materials
gathered chiefly from the most attractive of the

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 17
writings of confuted sceptics of the past age ; or,
perhaps most frequently, gleaned from the lighter
literature of the present time. Enough of opinions,
and objections, and names, may be learned from
these sources to satisfy the loquacious vanity or
the depraved hearts of the multitude who find " ob
jections" much easier to remember than " answers."
But is this wretched philosophy to be left in un
noticed contempt? — If the men who embrace it, must
live for ever ; if it be strong enough to root out
religion, and implant malignity in their hearts ; then
let us not think it so weak that we may dare de
spise it !
The causes, from which this shallow infidelity has
resulted, are far different from those to which it
is often imputed. There are many who attribute
it to the increase of knowledge ; and those, on the
contrary, who ascribe it to the ignorance of the neg
lected multitude ; but they who will attentively
observe the moral phenomena, will not be inclined
to think them explicable by either of these causes.
For a moral evil, we look for a moral origin ; and
when the premises of an argument (as, for instance,
the argument for the Christian revelation) are intel
ligible to all, a weakness of reasoning must be
ascribed to weakness of intellect. So that if it be
true — and who will deny it? — that our modern
Deism is generally accompanied by a laxity of moral
principle, or an incapacity for sound mental exer
tion — then it will seem reasonable to say, that
c

18 INTRODUCTION.
Deism is the effect of a depraved heart, and (whe
ther with much or little " knowledge,") a narrow
intellect. The remedy for evils such as these, cannot surely
be to raise outcries against knowledge, or vainly to
struggle against the increasing power of education.
Those who enter on so hopeless a course cannot —
ought not to, find success. It is, indeed, a delusion
to suppose, with some, that the spread of knowledge
will be accompanied necessarily by a moral renova
tion of the world. But though we look not thus on
any system of education as a key to unlock the ima
ginary storehouse that contains the summum bonum
of the human race, — though we look not for the
magnificent effects of diffused knowledge which
some foretel, — there is no Christian duty more plain
or imperative than that of instructing the unin
formed, enlightening those that are in darkness,
and alleviating, so far as our power extends, the
curse of ignorance which afflicts mankind.
We may indeed find strange co-adjutors in our
efforts — those who, like the infidel encyclopedists
of France, affect to give forth the most profound
knowledge in a popular form: and we may meet
strange enemies— those ill-taught zealots who imagine
the interests of religion and ignorance to be identical !
But we must not be deterred either by the false friend
ship of the infidel idolater of " knowledge," nor by
the vain vaticinations of the despiser of " mere human
learning."

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 19
The Christian, who would fitly maintain the honor
of his faith, must fight its battle with unsullied
weapons of argument and candour, and in a nobler
arena, the circle of honourable literature. It is time
that the meagre technicalities of exploded contro
versial systems were abolished ; the uncouthness of
an affected dialect laid aside ; and the ancient truths
of our Reformed Faith, defended, in their purity and
simplicity, in language of a congenial character.
Let us not deceive ourselves by imagining that the
moral evils of our times grow less, because we shut
our eyes, and refuse to see them. Without doubt,
our holy religion is suited to all the possible exi
gencies of man ; but who shall wonder that it is not
more prosperous, while it is associated, by its advo
cates, with principles that " decay, wax old, and are
ready to vanish away V or delivered in an antiquated
style which is conceived to be " Evangelical," be
cause it bears a faint analogy to the stately diction of
our Church formularies, or our English translation
of the Bible ? It is surely possible to clothe the
truths of our religion in language as plain and chaste
as any other truth will admit of ; and why then mus*
they be any longer associated with the barbarous
phrases of a barbarous age, — with a quaint theological
language, the offspring of perverted taste, and decrepit
intellect ? Men whose whole theology is contained
in one idea, or one small circle of ideas, will perhaps
be inclined to denounce a purity of style which they
might not be able to imitate ; or to retain for thera-
c 2

20 INTRODUCTION.
selves those consecrated words and licensed phrases
which have so long supplied the place of thought.
But, if we would see Christianity maintain that lofty
situation which is its right ; if we would see the
most knowing infidel abashed before its dignity, we
must see to it that we are guiltless of encumbering
its purity with worn-out crudities, and studied vul
garity. In a word — It is notorious that infidelity has a
powerful hold upon our literature ; education irre
sistibly advances ; morality is every where relaxed;
society seems, indeed, to be almost subsisting on
the lingering credit of ancient notions and expiring
opinions. And in this convulsed state of the moral
world can it be doubtful what course the Christian
Church is bound to pursue ?
While we can advocate no lenient dealing with
the unthinking infidelity of our times, it is necessary
to maintain the first importance of a recurrence to the
vigorous and life-giving principles of our faith ;
and an abandonment of mere artificial peculiarities,
which by their affectation and littleness, deform the
dignity of those eternal truths, the simple enunciation
of which might fill with solemn awe the most obdurate
mind. And I would indeed ask, whether it be not a
high offence against the majesty of Truth, to render it
contemptible in the eyes of any man ? Not that I
would justify or even palliate the stupendous folly of
scoffing at or neglecting the fearful realities of a life to
come, because of the weaknesses of some professors of

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 21
religion ? Not that I would tolerate for a moment
the monstrous thought, that the profound verities of
an hereafter are to be treated as mere matters of
taste ! But, if the Chief of the Apostles toiled
with assiduous anxiety, " that by any means he
might gain some" — how can we deem ourselves his
worthy followers, while we persist in giving our
instructions to mankind in unnecessarily repulsive
modes ?
But the superstitious obstinacy with which too many
have adhered to pernicious though favorite formalities
of diction, has not been more favorable to the growth of
infidelity, than the incautious concessions of others
on more important points. For thus that " natural
religion," wherein the infidel so much confides, comes
frequently to be regarded as the necessary datum for
revelation, and, consequently, as previously estab
lished on independent grounds. If there were no
ulterior evil in this fatal concession, there is this —
that it gives currency to a specious language which
suits alike the theology of the Christian and the Deist;
which originates in the minds of many the insidious
notion that there is no important difference between
the two ; and that, in reality, so far as they do differ,
the Deist may, perhaps, have the advantage, as he is
a professed follower of " reason." But this is far
from being the only evil that results from this prolific
source — this admission of the possibility of a purely
natural Theology. This is, indeed, the chief ground
of that portion of modern infidelity which pretends to

22 INTRODUCTION.
be reasonable, and, as such, deserves a closer exami
nation than it has often met with.
Of the force of these remarks, the world has, not
long since, had powerful proof, in a popular discourse
written in this convenient tongue, which suits alike
the infidel and the believer.1 In that discourse,
though Christianity (when slightly alluded to) is
generally treated with tolerable respect, the tone is
anti- christian throughout ; and, but for the ambi
guous dialect of the Natural Theologians, it would not
be endured by most of those, by whom it is now read
and admired. The disguise of sentiment is not,
indeed, perfect, though sufficiently so for the general
eye ; but the latent sarcasm wherewith the best advo
cates of our faith are disparaged, the tenderness for
the fame of notorious unbelievers, and, above all,
the intangible duplicity of injurious hint or innuendo,
reveal, but too faithfully, to the attentive reader, the
creed and character of the author.2
Our popular Deism is, indeed, a most subtle foe ;
for it has even invaded our libraries and our temples,
and passed, with most of us, as a friend ! It is a
subtle foe ; for its bland words of liberal seeming
flatter the pride and lull the suspicions of the many !
And they who will engage with this enemy of God
and man will find but few allies. The Reformed
Church of this realm may almost anticipate a single-
handed conflict ! — it may be that so powerful a
1 Lord Brougham's Discourse of Natural Theology. See note A.
3 See note A.

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 23
foe will defy all earthly power — all human agency,
(though that surmise will absolve no Christian
from the contest !) ; but yet, I say, it may be, that
the gigantic impieties of these latter times are re
served for a special out-pouring of the wrath of
Almighty God !
And though so few be found whose allegiance to
their faith is unshaken, we may not be dismayed ; for
it is written, " When the Son of Man cometh, shall
he find faith on the earth ?" And whether that com
ing be distant, or even now drawing nigh, our pro
spect is the same — the victory of God's church is as
sure, as if to-morrow's dawn should reveal in terrible
majesty the Son of Man coming " in the clouds of
Heaven ! "
That stirring exhortation addressed to an ancient
Church, is not unsuitable to us — " Stand fast ! quit
you like men ! be strong !" And in the times that are
coming, it will not be enough that our creed be
" orthodox." They will not be times of repose ;
therefore, our faith must be defended with masculine
energy of thought, which will compel a fashionable
audience, even in spite of themselves, to think! —
They must be defended with a pure enthusiasm,
becoming men who are in earnest, as remote from
the hot vulgarity of some as from the austere formal
ism of others. For on us will be the guilt of the
degradation aittd poverty of that religion Whereof we
are the appointed guardians, if we surrender intel
ligence and knowledge as the lawful patrimony of the

24 INTRODUCTION.
infidel, and enthusiastic ardour as the sole right of
the fanatic.
But it. may be hoped that there are, even now,
symptoms among us of the approach of a better era,
both of christian knowledge and christian zeal ; and
that The Church is arising like Zion of old, "to put on
her beautiful garments" that she may be the purer
testifier for truth in a corrupt generation. The Church
grows weary of the barren speculations, compounded
of inaccurate metaphysics, and "wrested" quotations
of Scripture ; and we hail the appearance of a spirit
which is anxious to investigate the book of Revela
tion, as it examines the book of Nature — regarding
the texts of the one, as no less indisputable and simple
than the facts of the other. We hail the approach of
a purer era, wherein the Bible shall be consulted as
the oracle of God, and no longer thumbed as the
text-book of human systems. Nor do we welcome
the less the advent of that time, because it may be
the signal of the approach of fiery trials, for which
the Church is thus prepared by him who would have
her " without spot or blemish, or any such thing !"
In the latter days it was foretold that " perilous
times must come," and close this dispensation as they
closed the last ; but though the scattered tribes of our
Israel be apostate, or rebellious, may Judah yet " re
main faithful with her God !" — bearing, as of old, her
noble testimony to his truth ! (undismayed by danger,
unwearied by toil !) amidst the aboundings of Infide
lity, the advances of Popery, and the " waxing cold

ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. 25
of the love of many !" That when the " world of the
ungodly" have provoked the delaye'd vengeance of
the Most High; when the torrents of judgment de
scend like cataracts from Heaven, and the " fountains
of the great deep" of Retribution " are broken up,"'
The Church of this long exalted land may " find
favor in the eyes of her Lord" amidst the universal
ruin ! That for her " faithful witnesses an ark of di
vine protection may be found, which shall bear them
up amidst the lashing violence of the billows, till it
rest at length in safety on a new Ararat ; — when, the
tumultuous waters shall subside — the bow of God's
faithfulness shall span the firmament, and a rege
nerate population be summoned to take possession
of " new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth
righteousness !"

THE DISSERTATION.

" Cum multae res in philosophia nequaquam satis adhuc explicate
sint, turn perdifficilis, Brute, (quod tu minime ignoras) et perob-
scura quaestio est de natura Deorum ; quae et ad agnitionem animi
pulcherrima est, et ad moderandam religionem necessaria. De qua
tam variae sunt doctissimorum hominum, tamque discrepantes sen-
tentise, ut magno argumento esse debeat, causam, id est, principium,
philosophise, esse [inscientiam,] prudenterque Academicos a rebus
incertis assensionem cohibuisse. Quid est enim temeritate turpius ?
aut quid tam temerarium, tamque indignum sapientis, gravitate
atque constantia, quam aut falsum sentire, aut, quod non satis explo-
rate perceptum sit et cognitum, sine ulla dubitatione defendere ?"
Cicero. De Nat. Deor.

THE DISSERTATION.

" Without metaphysics, science could have had no language, and
common sense no materials.
" From all we know of the wremetaphysical tribes of New Hol
land and elsewhere, a common sense not preceded by metaphysics is
no very enviable thing." Coleridge.

Exordium.

The idea of loving truth, for its own sake has in it
something so lofty and ennobling, that even those,
who are practically uninfluenced thereby, cannot
regard it without a transient emotion of reverence.
The men of the world, though engaged in the en
grossing pursuits of business or pleasure, not in
frequently look on the scholar or the philosopher
with a kind of respect, analogous to that with which
they would gaze at the high priest of a divinity far
removed from their apprehensions. He is, or he
ought to be, the votary of Truth ; and their respect
for him is but an instinctive homage to the Truth
itself. There are, indeed, but few men who would not feel
offended by the insinuation, that they were deficient
in the " love of truth ," and yet it can be no secret,
that narrow considerations of " utility" possess the
minds of the many, almost to the exclusion of nobler

30 THE DISSERTATION.
motives ; and that, to adopt the language of a great
writer of the last century, " truth is the cry of all,
but the game of a few."
The majority of men, instead of examining for
themselves, generally learn by rote a code of
borrowed opinions. Free-thinking (in the best
sense of that abused word) is far from being the
" epidemic evil of these times ;" for those methods
of thought which happen to be in fashion are
adopted by most men without hesitation. They
can, therefore, ill endure to have their notions laid
bare by any criticism, lest they should be driven to
the hard necessity of thinking for themselves. Such,
at least, are the conclusions to which I have come,
from the conviction, that men who were candid
enquirers after truth would not object to have their
opinions on all subjects freely canvassed : and whether
such candid enquirers are often to be met with, every
man's own observation must, decide.
If, for instance, some common subject, connected
with any branch of what is called Metaphysical, or
even Moral, Science, be introduced araono- men who
would reckon themselves, "intellectual," and are
perhaps very well informed on the common topics of
human knowledge— how will it be received? — I need
hardly answer ; although this supposed subject is
intimately connected with the most exalted truths
which mind can contemplate, yet it will generally
happen, that from one, and another, and another, of
these " truth-loving" persons, the murmur will arise,
and prevail, — "Abstruse subject !" " Imperfect
human faculties !" — " Cui bono ?" and the pre-

THE DISSERTATION. 31
sumptuous thinker will soon find nine-tenths of
his company against him.
The evident tendency of this unwillingness to
think, is, to make men contented with ignorance, to
unfit the mind for everything nobler than worldly
interests, or to create hard thoughts of the Deity on
account of the unhappy condition of our race. It
represents the life of man as a hopeless enigma, which
death itself may not solve. By a strange incon
sistency, the very men who tell us, " these reasonings
lead to nothing," and complain of the " darkness and
uncertainty of metaphysics," are the first to raise an
outcry against any one who may try to strike a light
in the darkness. But should we not think better of
the goodness of the Deity, and of the power of the
human mind, than to believe that we are immured in
this world as in a dark dungeon, endowed with an
irrepressible but vain desire of beholding the light
of day ?
While we sit still, said an old philosopher, we are
never the wiser, but going into the river, and moving
up and down is the way to discover its depths and
shallows. But this requires exertion which few
will make, since it is so much easier to throw dis
credit on all mental efforts ! Indeed, up to a very
recent date, there has been a growing inaptitude for
what is termed, " the science of mind." Nor can it
be wondered at, that the generality are well pleased
to. acquiesce in the decision, that correct thinking is
an impossibility. It brings down all to one pleasant
level, and casts blame on none. " Feebleness," says
Coleridge, " is always plausible, for it favors mental

32 the dissertation.
indolence ;" — " feebleness, in the disguise of con
fessing and condescending strength is always popular."
But, if a "love of truth" were as general as the pro
fession of it, should we witness such reluctance to put
forth the energies of the mind ? Should we tolerate
these complaints of "difficulty," and pinings after
"utility?"1 When the Stagyrite was asked, why the presence
of the beautiful tires not ? he replied, " that is the
question of a blind man." And to those who inquire,
Why truth is sought after, except as the servant of
worldly utility ? — we may indignantly answer, It is
the question of an animal, and not of a man ! And
are there not many whose actions might be inter
preted into a question like this ? But as there is
wisdom at times, " in becoming all things to all
men," so, in respect to the present discourse, I
solicit not the patient ear of any man on the ground
that a knowledge of truth is in itself a " joy that
passeth understanding," but on the more tangible
ground, that the subject of this Dissertation is of
high practical importance to all who do not think
Theology to be vain theory, and Religion an empty
dream. A long consideration of the modern " Doctrine of
Final Causes," and of that " Natural Theology," of
which it is the declared basis, has led to the conclu
sions which I have here attempted to establish. I
have become deeply persuaded that Revelation must
be defended on far higher grounds than those which
1 How few will understand the spirit of Mde. De Stael's, " Oh !
que j'aime l'inutile."

the dissertation. 33
are usually taken. My design, therefore, is, to set
forth, in the clearest manner, that though atheism is
an impossibility, and irreligion misery, yet that man,
by his unassisted natural powers, could never have
certainly determined any one truth of theology or
religion. I would have the Deist left to his own
theological resources, that the futility of his attempts
might show him the necessity of revelation. I would
prove that a strictly natural theology is unattainable ;
so that all men, who feel that some theology is indis
pensable, may be unable to avoid the conclusion in
favour of Revelation. Some Christians may be alarmed
at an attack on "natural" religion, but this I cannot
but attribute to very partial views of the subject, or to
the indefinite manner in which the phrase is used.
If, by " natural religion," or theology, any one means
to imply such a knowledge of God and truth, as may
be gained, apart from Christianity, by the guesses of
enlightened conscience, or by the help of traditional
revelation, and those traces of primitive truth which
are to be found in all ages ; — I only reply, that such
a theology cannot properly be called " natural," and
cannot be what the Deists mean, when they employ
that term. They are, of course, bound to defend a
theology which has nothing jwper-natural about it.
When I say, then, that I deny the possibility of
a natural theology, I mean the theology of a mere
Deist, — the conclusions whereof are deducible from
premises in as strict a manner as conclusions con
cerning any other natural truths. If the stern ob
jections which lie against the creed of the Deists
were clearly apprehended, we should not find these
u

34 the dissertation.
men exclaiming against and rejecting Christianity as
the religion of the credulous; nor should we so
often witness that complacent falling back on a pre
tended " rational belief" in God, which is the
popular resort of modern " reasoners." Be it ob
served, that I do not deny the " light of nature," as
it is called, (i. e. natural conscience) to be a guide to
religion ; but I deny that it is any thing more than a
guide. It is not the thing itself. I most readily
allow, that morality is a strict natural science,
concerning the relations between man and man, and
the eternal laws of right and wrong which give rise
to those relations. I allow, too, that moral science1
may be attained by examining the facts of our moral
nature. But Religion implies something more than
morality : it introduces a new class of relations, viz.
those which subsist between man and God : and
I venture to affirm, that, although natural conscience
may lead a man to feel the want of some religion, it
will not teach him the precise nature of religious ob
ligation ; neither will natural reasoning be able to
prove, with certainty, any single theological
truth ; even the unity or personality of God, or the
reasonableness of worship : ail which points are
indispensible to religion. So that if any such
science as Natural Theology were possible, it is yet
too large a demand on our " credulity" to expect us
to admit it, before the data are produced on which it
is founded. And no such data have yet been shown.
The scanty materials of the Natural Theologians are
1 Very different from Dr. Paley's system.

the dissertation. 35
not sufficient for the structure which they would raise.
Their premises do not justify their conclusions.
But I would at once anticipate an objection which
will be raised by many, which is this : ' Why should
we attempt to make men dissatisfied with any argu
ments which prove, or seem to prove, truths ; and
especially truths of such importance as those of
theology ?' To which I answer : That if there were
not, as there are, many other reasons, this is suf
ficient, — That it is impossible to foresee the conse
quences of enlisting error in the service of truth.
For my own part, I feel sure that the truth cannot
require such service. But, farther : It may be seen,
that the consequences have already been of the most
disastrous kind ; of which any Christian may judge,
who will reflect on the arrogant pretensions of our
modern Natural Theologians.
As the most recent work on the subject, I would
refer to Lord Brougham's Introductory Discourse to
Paley's well-known Treatise. The comparative
claims of Natural and Revealed religion are there
stated in the following terms :
" We assert, that it is a vain and ignorant thing to
suppose, that Natural Theology is not necessary to
the support of Revelation. The latter may be untrue,
though the former be admitted ! It may be proved or
allowed" [which, by the way, are very different
things,] " that there is a God, though it be denied
that he sent any message to man through men, or
other intermediate agents ; as indeed the Epicu
reans believed in the existence of the Gods, but
held them to keep wholly aloof from human affairs,
d2

36 the dissertation.
leaving the world, physical as well as moral, to it
self, without the least interference in its concerns.
But Revelation cannot be true, if Natural Religion is
false, and cannot be demonstrated strictly by any
argument, or established by any evidence, without
proving, or assuming the latter I"1 — p. 204.
Now there is certainly a roundness and complete
ness in this statement, which obviates the necessity
of my making quotations at a greater length. If any
one, after reading this, is yet disposed to think the
claims of the Natural Theologians harmless, or their
fictitious science friendly (or, as they affirm, necessary)
to Revelation, I would have him reflect on the un
avoidable consequences of his concession. For I
own, that I myself had strong suspicions of this
Natural Theology before I perceived its inevitable
1 In proof of these bold propositions, Lord Brougham, goes on to
put a case, in which he charitably supposes, " all the ordinary diffi
culties in the way of Revelation to be got over." And he declares
that if a messenger could in our own days, be ineontrovertibly
proved to be " sent immediately from heaven," and work miracles
before our own eyes, we could not rely on the truth of his Doctrine.
Lord Brougham would, it seems, carry his scepticism so far as to dis
pute the truth of a doctrine revealed with all this evidence, " because
a being capable of working miracles may be well capable of de
ceiving us. The possession of power does not of necessity exclude
either fraud or malice !'' Now, in this case, a more unfortunate
excuse for unbelief 'could not have been found ; for by the very
hypothesis, Lord B. allows that the said messenger was proved in
eontrovertibly " to be sent immediately from heaven ;" on what, then,
does his Lordship ground his suspicion of possible "fraud and malice ?"
I should have thought that his coming " from heaven," was quite
inconsistent with Lord B.'s suspicion of his being a deputy from
some power of " great malignity." But further, Lord B. remarks,
"The miracles of Jesus,"' (such are his words) " were attributed to

the dissertation. 37
consequences. Let it be admitted, that Natural
Religion must be thus established on independent
grounds, before Revelation of any kind can even be
examined ; then,
The first consequence must be, — That this Natural
Religion may be constituted as a Test by which i,
Revelation is to be tried. This consequence is in
evitable. Because, no Doctrine of Revelation must \
be understood in any sense which does not accord
with the truths of Natural Religion ; for these are
supposed to be previously established, and are, on
this hypothesis, the foundation of all Religion ! And
therefore, whatever opposes them, must be rejected —
either openly denied or explained away. To illus
trate my meaning, and show that this is no imaginary
danger, let any allowed truth of Revelation be
taken, in order to make the trial ; as, for instance,
" Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many."
Now, if Natural Theologians should be of opinion,
as they sometimes have been, that this doctrine in
terferes with some of the truths of their Natural Re-
evil beings." True ; but our Saviour declared that insinuation to
be " sin against the Holy Spirit" which could not be forgiven "in this
world, or that which is to come," and yet of this very blasphemy
of which the Pharisees were guilty, Lord B. coolly remarks,
" their argument was not at all unphilosophical !" But I must
take the liberty of differing from his Lordship ; I have yet to
discover that blasphemy against the Holy Ghost has any thing
" philosophical" about it ; unless it be philosophical to attribute
benevolent miracles to a " being of great malignity." Lord B.'s
pompous Demonstration may therefore be annihilated by those
words of meek wisdom, from him " who spoke as never man
spake," whose simple rule, for discerning false and true prophets
was, " by their fruits, ye shall know them !"

38 the dissertation.
ligion— or is repugnant to some of the attributes with
which they clothe their imaginary Deity, it must be
rejected. If, to use Lord Brougham's example, a
Natural Theologian have decided with Epicurus,
that God " holds himself aloof from human affairs
and leaves the world, physical as well as moral, to
itself, without the least interference in its concerns ;"
will it not seem repugnant to all reason to suppose
him to accept a sacrifice for human sins ? Or if,
according to the Socinians, it be concluded, that
sacrifices are in themselves absurd, and unacceptable
to the God of Natural Theology, can we suppose him
to accept the sacrifice of his Eternal Son, who even
assumed human nature, for the express purpose of
becoming a sacrifice ! So that, in either of these
cases, the " doctrine of the Atonement,'' might be
rejected, if Natural Religion were the Test by which
Revelation was tried. From all which it is easy
to see,
The second *' consequence" of this concession,
viz., That Revelation will be degraded, (by being
brought to the level of Natural Religion) and be
thus shown to be wholly superfluous. This conse
quence can no more be avoided than the other. Be
cause, if Revelation and Naturalism be in any matter
opposed to each other, the one or the other must
compromise its claims ; for contradictories cannot
both be true. If Revelation make the compromise,
then it forfeits all right to be considered as the
message of the God of Truth. And, in this case,
it shows itself to be wholly superfluous, as well as
partly false. But, if Naturalism should yield, then

the dissertation. 39
the very foundations on which all Religion (even
Revelation itself, according to this hypothesis) is
built, are shown to be fallacious !
It is very easy to comprehend how it is, that
avowed Infidels befriend this Natural Theology. It
answers their purpose in two ways : it undermines
Christianity, and supplies its enemies with a re
putable, though hollow substitute; for, by the
incompleteness and fallacy of its arguments, it
introduces doubt on those very points which it
pretends to establish. But it is not so easy to ex
plain the strong affection which some Christians
express for this unsubstantial theory. Is it, that they
suppose facts to be strongly in favour of it ? Then,
surely, it is not too much to expect that they will
point out, at least, some one purely Natural Theo
logian in the history of the world. I own that I
cannot find one. Let any Christian calmly peruse
any of the best treatises1 of the ancients, — even
those who had the light of a traditional revelation
to guide them, — and he may find his admiration
of nature's efforts in the field of theology consi
derably abated. Let him read that noble dialogue of
Plato, wherein the dying Socrates hardly rises higher
than a wish, — a hope, —a guess, concerning the life
to come ! Let him not take the hackneyed quota
tions2 of doubtful or obscure passages from the
1 I say " Treatises," not passages. Dr. Cudworth's great work
is a monument of learning and research ; but it is not what some
seem to -consider it, a substitute for Plato. It is not, a fountain of
all -philosophy.
2 See the Notes to Lord Brougham's Discourse,

40 THE DISSERTATION.
ancients, which are no otherwise worthy of notice
than as glimmerings of light amidst palpable dark
ness ; let him read the continuous work of any sage
or poet in all antiquity,— and though he may find,
here and there, a line that glitters like a crystal on
a heap of pebbles, — he will need no argument of
mine to convince him of the truth of the declaration
of the learned apostle : " The world by wisdom
knew not God !"
It is time that I now proceed to develope more
fully the nature of my argument.
There are generally conceived to be two distinct
methods by which any truth may be proved : the
a, priori, or synthetical method, and the a posteriori,
or analytical1 ; concerning which (though some
what common topics) I hope I may be excused for
offering a few preliminary remarks, as they will be
of importance throughout this Dissertation. The
words Analysis and Synthesis are borrowed from the
Greek geometers, and are applied, by analogy, to the
different modes of proof and investigation used in
both mental and physical science. Some of our late
writers, in their inordinate zeal for the principles of
a mechanical philosophy, have endeavoured to prove
that all reasoning is analytical, by showing that
every argument is necessarily founded on such prin
ciples, and such only as have been previously estab
lished by an analytical examination of facts. But
this seems about as logical as to attempt to show, on
the other hand, that all reasoning is synthetical, be-
1 See, on this subject, a laborious and heavily-written section
vol. iii. p. 374, of Prof. D. Stewart's " Philos. of H. Mind."

THE DISSERTATION. 41
cause all the general laws, and first principles of
intellect and sense, must be assumed, a priori, before
we can commence the analysis of facts.1 It appears
that every one is conscious that he is, at times,
more intuitively or immediately certain of a prin
ciple than of the consequences to be deduced from
it ; and, at such times, he begins with the principle,
as that which is best known, and argues from it
" synthetically." At other times, certain facts or
consequences are most immediately evident, and are
therefore taken as premises, from which to argue to
the principle " analytically." It cannot, therefore,
be thought a sign of metaphysical clearness of con
ception, to dispute the fact — that there are these two
distinct methods of reasoning.
And further ; we may, perhaps, perceive that there
is a difference in nature, between truths which are
known to us in modes so essentially diverse.
The whole universe of things, so far as we are or
can be acquainted therewith, seems to consist of two
classes of being, the subjects, and the objects of
knowledge ; which, for the sake of clearness, we may
call perceiving beings, and perceived beings —
the knowing and the known : — Of the essence of either ,
we can ascertain nothing beyond the fact, that the '
one is such that it perceives and knows ; and the other
is such that it is perceived and known.2 Now the <
contemplation of these two classes of universal being,
1 " » /Ait yap [JiSao-jcaA/ as] 8/ liraywyw, v §£ avX^oyio-na. £ pn cSr>
iitayuyn ap%ti ca-n xai ru net^oKa, o Si o-vKKoyujpot; la rut x«9oX»." —
Aristot. Eth. ad Nic. 1. 6. c. 3.
5 " Their esse Is percipi." — Princio. of H. Knowledge. Berkeley.

42 the dissertation.
has led me to perceive, that truth is also two-fold :
rthat is to say, that there are, first, truths of reason, and
' secondly, truths of sense.1 And as the direct testi
mony of our senses (to speak figuratively) is the test
of truths of the second class ; so the direct testimony
of mind, is the test of truths of the first class. Of
truths of reason, we have a kind of a priori conscious
ness previous to all proof.2 They are perceived by a
direct aspect of the mind. Such are those absolutely
necessary and immutable truths which depend in no
respect on the existence of any thing else. Of which
kind are the truths of mathematics, of morals,3 and
(as I doubt not) the essential truths of Christianity.
But a " truth of sense" is, on the other hand, con-
1 See Cudworth, Wollaston, &c, and Kant.
2 A man is said to be " conscious" of his own existence ; he be
lieves it, of course, a priori, previous to all proof. But yet this
affirmation, " I exist," should not strictly be called a " truth of
reason," in the highest sense of the word ; because the supposition
of any particular being having never existed at all, would not
" imply a mathematical contradiction." Not that our own exist
ence is therefore to be thought a " truth of sense ;" for it is be
lieved " a priori," and may be conceived wholly apart from the
senses, which, in every respect, are subsequent, and not prior, to
mind. Perhaps this truth, and those which depend on it, may be
well called " particular truths of reason," in opposition to others,
which are universal and absolute. And further, observe ; that if
mind, i. e., some thinking being, must be assumed first of all — if
mind is the subject which has truth for its object — if mind is the
centre of a circle of truth — it will follow, that from the existence
of eternal truths, we may argue the necessity of an eternal mind.
3 In proof of this, see Cud worth's masterly " Treatise concerning
Eternal and Immutable Morality;" and the learned Wm. Wollaston's
Religion of Nature ; both which, in the moral conclusions, are
unanswerable.

the dissertation. 43
tingent and mutable. It cannot have an absolute
but only a relative necessity of existence. It might, J
by a possibility, have been otherwise than it is. A
perfect recognition of such a truth is called an act of
" understanding ;" for, in understanding, we " judge
according to the sense."1 Now, there is no more
room for scepticism concerning this latter class of
truths than concerning the former, as will abundantly
appear by considering, that we have, in each case,
the best evidence which the nature of the matter
admits. " Truths of reason" being superior to all proof,
and known by the intuition of nature, or revelation,
have the highest of all evidence, and are called " de
monstrable." They cannot even be imagined to be
possibly otherwise than they are ; for they are eternal,
and " absolutely necessary." But " truths of sense,"
(and, indeed, all particular truths also) are only rela
tively necessary. (See Part ii. sec. 3.) " Truths of
sense" admit of being proved at the bar of reason ;
because they might have been otherwise than they
are. Therefore, the evidence for them is said to be
" probable." And this distinction between demon
strative and probable evidence should be very care
fully observed. I repeat, then, that a truth is demon
stratively established, as " absolutely necessary,"
when it appears, that it is a contradiction in the
nature of things to imagine it otherwise. A truth has
the very highest probable evidence, when it is proved,
in an irrefutable manner, from the evidence of our
senses, from testimony or any other of the sensible
1 See Leighton, Coleridge, &c.

44 the dissertation.
means of human knowledge. The term " probable"
does not necessarily imply any degree of uncer
tainty.' Unless we know to which of the two classes any
truth belongs, we cannot tell what kind of evidence
is to be expected to support it. The first truths of
Theology have been defended both a. priori and a pos
teriori ; i. e., both by demonstrative and probable
arguments. Perhaps no one has employed the former
with such ingenuity as Dr. Clarke.2 And, indeed, if
the truths of Theology be eternal, immutable and
necessary truths (which seems undeniable, if they be
admitted at all), it would appear reasonable to regard
them as " demonstrable," a, priori, to intelligences
capable of apprehending them ; and the only doubt
might be, whether they might not transcend the
natural capacity of the human mind ? It is certain
that Dr. Reid, Professor Stewart, and their followers,
regard the argument a. priori, merely as the " specu
lation of men of genius," the soundness of which is
much to be suspected ; at the same time, strangely
overlooking the fact, that eternal and necessary truths
must be also " demonstrable." With these writers,
the argument a. posteriori is much more popular, and
the generality of men have, doubtless, the same pre
dilection. Which might, indeed, be expected, as it
is much easier to avail one's self of what comes
within the province of sense and understanding, than
1 For many of these observations, I may refer to Dr. Cudworth
and others ; and still later to Kant and Coleridge.
3 Many of Clarke's able contemporaries also adopted it. It is
indeed, as old as Lactantius.

the dissertation. 45
to exert the reason in contemplating lofty truths. The
popular form in which the argument a, posteriori is
generally put, is this : Its advocates represent it as
an " argument from design," or, as it is commonly
called, "an argument from Final Causes." But a close.
attention to the real nature of an argument from final!
causes will discover, that it is not a correct a. poste-j
riori process.
A very common way of stating this argument
is this ; — " From certain marks of contrivance ,
or design, which may be traced in the works of j
nature, we may, by the light of nature alone, infer a j
contriver, a God." Before entering immediately on
the consideration of this position, it may be observed,
that the truth of the doctrine here laid down is meant
to depend on the principle, That we may argue from^
effect to cause. And, without question, the a, priori '
and a, posteriori arguments must both depend on the
validity of this principle ; and in order to examine
this, it will be necessary to inquire, — What is a
CAUSE ?
Believing that much evil results from partial views
of this subject, I have attempted to investigate the
whole matter; not with a view of bringing forward,
or criticising, instances of " Final Causes," but in
order to examine the foundations of the argument
from them ; and thus determine the whole amount of
the value of such an argument. In so doing, I shall
endeavour to bring all doctrines and opinions to the
simple test of the consciousness and experience of
every man's mind ; believing, that if there be one
thing of which we may be more certain than another,

46 the dissertation.
it must be that which exists within ourselves, and is,
as it were, a part of us. It is evident, as 1 shall
frequently take occasion to enforce, that if any doubt
or uncertainty be thrown on the operations of intel
lect, knowledge will become impossible and reasoning
absurd. This, then, is my only Postulate, which
I am the more explicit in stating, because I amsure
that its importance cannot be overrated ; —
Let it be granted ; that the facts of
THE HUMAN MIND,1 ARE SUFFICIENT DATA
FOR THE SCIENCE OF THE HUMAN MIND ; AND
THE IMPORTANT TRUTHS DEPENDENT THEREON.
As the admission of this Postulate will lead to
more practical consequences, than are apparent at
first sight, I would have it very cautiously inspected.
Let it not be considered as identical with the propo
sition of Mr. Hume, that all our knowledge is derived
from Experience. It is very different. This propo
sition, which Hume borrowed from Mr. Locke, is not
indeed to be regarded as false, but, rather, as ambi
guous ;2 but there is one part of its ambiguity (so
to speak) which has not, as far as I am aware, been
fully detected. If there be, as we have seen, certain
necessary truths of reason, prior to truths of sense,
which depend on no " experience" for their sub
stantial verity, what can be more unreasonable than
1 If any one prefers to substitute the word Nature for the word
" Mind," in both the places in the Postulate where it occurs, I see
no great objection to it. / have said " Mind," from having con
sidered Body as one of the phenomena of mind ; and also considering
the word " Nature" as inapplicable to intelligent beings.
2 Which has been well exposed by the Archbishop of Dublin.

THE DISSERTATION. 47
to attempt to apply to them the test of sensible expe
rience ? And yet this is the very mistake of Mr. Hume
and his fellow-disciples of the school of Locke. It
is impossible that sensible experience could teach me
that the three angles of a triangle are necessarily
equal to two right angles. I might know, from sen
sible experience, that I always found it to be so, and
thence I might infer1 as a highly probable truth, that
it might be so, in future. But a single glance of the
reasoning mind perceives, at once, the higher truth
— the truth of reason — necessary and immutable ; it
must be so. Perhaps, most of the fallacies of the
Sceptics of the last century may be traced to an
oversight of the fact, that there are " Truths of
Reason." But it may be said, that all the operations of the
mind may be called "Experiences" for we could not
know that we had power, even to think, unless we
had previously exerted it, and so obtained knowledge
of it by experience. Now even if it be true, that in
this sense, all our knowledge is derived from " expe
rience," it does not alter what has been said, con
cerning the necessary and immutable character of
'' Truths of Reason." For, if it be granted that we
learnby experience that 2 x2=4 it is evident that that
truth is in no way affected by our experience of it. It
is immutably and necessarily true, and would have
been so, had no being ever existed to learn it by
"experience." But there is an objection to this manner
of using the word " experience," arising from the
1 I first met with this idea, I think, somewhere in the
writings of Coleridge.

48 the dissertation.
fact, that it is generally applied to historical expe
riences,1 and not to intellectual. The truths of Under
standing may therefore be said to become known by
experience ; and it might be well to confine the word
to them. For it may certainly be doubted, whether
truths of reason are always first communicated to the
mind by experience, because they are apprehended
so fully and perfectly at once, that they would not
become more sure, if we had an eternity of "Ex
perience"' of them. And further, it is very plain,
that they are, by their very nature, superior to all
experience, being eternal truths. Therefore, as we
may argue from experience, with respect to truths of
understanding ; so with respect to truths of reason,
we may argue from the very necessity of the case.
It will now be seen, that when I say, that the "facts
of the human mind" are sufficient data for the science
of it, I do not mean only the facts of sensible ex
perience, but also the facts of necessary and immutable
being. If there should seem to be a peculiarity in
the manner in which I have used the word, " fact," I
would remark, that I have adopted it in order to in
culcate more forcibly that all real science, whether
metaphysical or physical, must rest on this same
basis. Whatever really exists — whether necessarily
or relatively— may be called a " fact." A statement
concerning the nature of a number of facts, is called
a " Doctrine" (when il is considered absolutely, as
truth) and a " Law" (when it is considered relatively
to an intelligence ordaining or receiving it.) What
ever may be affirmed universally of the human mind
1 See Mr. Hume's Dialogues and Essays.

THE DISSERTATION. 49
whether educated or not, I consider to be a " fact of
the human mind ;" as that which may be affirmed
universally of physical nature may be termed a fact of
physical nature ; (such, for instance, as " Gravita
tion.") But neither in physics nor in metaphysics
can any general conclusion be deduced from a parti
cular fact. It would, however, render all science
impossible to dispute universal, or even widely-
general facts. And none, indeed, (except some few
metaphysicians) have been guilty of this extra
vagance. And it surely must not appear surprising,
that such reasoners have arrived at no certain know
ledge ; inasmuch as they begin by a dogged and
universal Scepticism.
Assuming the truth of our Postulate, I now shall
proceed in the following order :
I. — (a) I shall first consider the question of Causation
generally, and critically ; that I may arrive at a defi
nition of the true idea of a cause. This will lead
to a decision on the nature of the connexion of Cause
and Effect.
(2) And as it is plain, that no principles can be a
good basis for Theological science, which are in
consistent with practical Religion, that Doctrine of
Causation which will be at this point established
will be applied to Morals, in order to illustrate the
Free Agency of man. After this parenthetical section
(3) We shall open the consideration of the modern
" Doctrine of Final Causes " by comparing it with
the ancient doctrine of the same name.
II. — The second part of this dissertation will be
occupied by the examination ,

50 THE DISSERTATION.
Q) Of the Theological argument from Final
Causes ; in order to shew its fallacy :
(2) Of the argument a. posteriori, (which is
frequently confounded with the arguments from
" Final Causes)" and
(3) Of the argument a priori ; in order to
ascertain their precise value : the former of which, as
being the more popular, will occupy the larger share
of our attention.
III. — -In the third part I shall endeavour,
('•*¦) To establish the Theological Doctrine of
Final Causes on the more accurate principles of
the ancients ; and shew the legitimate use of the
modern doctrine ; and
(3) I shall, finally, vindicate the position that the
Truths of Revelation are eternal and necessary truths
of Reason " spiritually discerned " i.e. not cognizable
by sense.

PART I.
OF CAUSATION.

" Hi omnes motus regulares originem non habent ex Causis
mechanicis. Elegantissima haecce Solis Planetarum et Cometarum
compages, non nisi consilio et domimo Entis Intelligentis et Potentis
oriri potuit." Newton, Sch. Gen.
" Aoxei yag irXtiov h 'ii^Liav ra natros Eirai n aex"1) Ka' "'0^a ovpJpan
yevsu^xi (Si'alrqs rut ^tiTa^Evmr." Aristot.

SECTION I.
The Theory.
The Doctrine of Causation, in its simplest and
most generalized form, may be briefly stated thus :
That there is throughout nature a constant series of
events, seeming to depend on each other — the sub
sequent on the antecedent ; the former, of any two
events, being commonly denominated the Cause, the
latter, the Effect.
The greatest difference of opinion has prevailed
with respect to this Doctrine ; and more especially as
to the extent to which it is admissible.
There are many (and perhaps the majority of man
kind are of their opinion) who allow, fully, of the ap-
e2

52 the dissertation.
plication of the doctrine to physical subjects; but
extend their views, and often, indeed, their enquiries,
no further. They believe this Doctrine of Causa
tion to be a sound basis, whereon to erect Theolo
gical Science, without entertaining the previous
question — Whether the admission of the Principle
of Causation be consistent with the existence of Re
ligion and Morality ? The opponents of this party
are chiefly of tw« kinds : 1st, Those who admit the
Doctrine and deny its sufficiency ; and 2ndly, Those
who deny the Doctrine itself— dispute the reality of
the connexion of Cause and Effect — and therefore, as
they suppose, the possibility of arguing with cer
tainty from one to the other.
But there is a large party who have almost con
fined their views to the moral bearings of this doctrine,
conceiving, that however admissible the Law of Cau
sation might be in physics, it was wholly subversive
of morals, and consequently to be opposed, at all risk.
They allege, that the close and necessary connexion
of Moral Causes and Effects would detract from the
voluntary character of human action, and so destroy
all distinctions of virtue and vice. Their opponents,
on the contrary, maintain the very reverse of this
proposition. They conceive, that one event follows
another as regularly in the moral as in the physical
world ; and, that to reject the notion of Moral Causa
tion, would annihilate all connexion between Means
and End, and thus render virtue and vice so much
a matter of chance, as to be difficult, if not wholly
unattainable. These are some of the chief controversies on this

the dissertation. 53
extensive subject; and I am persuaded that they have
arisen, to a great extent, from the ambiguity of the
word Cause, as any one may see by even re-perusing
the preceding page. I say not this, in order to
mimic the style of the whole crowd of writers, who,
from the days of Locke to our own, have delighted in
such complaints ; much less to shelter myself, by
casting the blame of my own obscurity of thought,
upon the unavoidable defects of language — but be
cause I am most anxious to convey truth in words
not to be misunderstood ; and to do this, I must first
hunt out established sophistry from its wordy lurk
ing-places. I suppose it will not be denied that words are
meant to convey ideas ; if, then, the same word be
employed to signify several distinct ideas, all clear
ness of conception will become impossible. That this
has introduced much of the doubt and dispute, con
cerning the subject which we are about to examine,
will not I think need much proof. It is a fact of
which every one may judge.
A boy at school, in the ordinary routine of his
studies, works the first problem in Euclid. The
result of his operations is placed before us, — the
Equilateral Triangle. If it be now asked, ' What is
the cause of this effect? — this triangle?' — It is pro
bable, that no two persons would give the same answer.
One might say, that the two intersecting circles, &c,
are the cause; and it would be true. Another
might declare, the rule, pencil, and compasses, to be
the cause ; a third might consider the boy himself as
the only real cause.

54 the dissertation.
Now observe ; these three persons would use the
word Cause in three senses : they would mean three
essentially different things, though they would employ
one and the same term. The first would assign the
cause, or reason, in the nature of things, from
which the triangle resulted ; the second would speak
of the cause, or instrument ; and the third, of the
cause, or agent, —the " Efficient Cause" of the
schoolmen. But this is not all : so loosely has this word come to
be used, that, according to some, every motive that in
fluenced the mind of the boy might be called a remote
" cause" of the triangle : as, the fear of punishment,
— the example of others — the desire of knowledge
— emulation, and the like. And still farther ; every
use to which the triangle might afterwards be put,
was a " cause" why it should be made. Thus the
second problem might be fantastically called a cause
for the first : and so, for this simple triangle, causes
might be assigned almost ad infinitum.
Nor can it be said, that any one may immediately
perceive in what sense a word is used, by observing
the general drift and bearing of the sentence in
which it occurs. Experience proves, that, as latitude
in the signification of words gives rise to sophisms
in philosophy, so men's ears, by this colloquial
usage, become accustomed to inaccuracy, and many
an error escapes detection. Thus a fallacy, somewhat
similar to the following, is by no means uncom
mon : for the sake of exposing its weakness, I will
exhibit it in the syllogistic form of the logicians.
Major. — The cause of any thing is accountable
for it.

the dissertation. 55
Minor. — Motives are the cause of human action.
Conclusion. — Therefore the motives (and not the
man) are accountable.
It may be a matter of wonder with some, whether
such a syllogism ever satisfied any one ; and yet
such is but the real statement of the common-place
objection of the " Free Thinker" — " Why am I
accountable for actions which are caused by mo
tives1 beyond my control?" The objection, such
as it is, rests on the evident truth, — that no man
is accountable for that of which he is not the cause.
But the fault of the argument consists in an ambi
guous middle term. The word Cause is used in the
major premiss, to signify a real, efficient cause ;
otherwise, no one would admit that proposition. In
the minor, it signifies the occasion, or reason of an
action. Now, if a man were told that he was not
accountable for an action, " if he had any reason
for it," he would suspect his informant for a fool
rather than a logician. Yet such is the meaning, if it
has any, of this objection against man's accounta
bility. It rests on the ambiguity of the word-
Cause.2

1 See Sect. 2. on the ambiguity of the word Motive.
9 The distinction between real and nominal causes is easily
forgotten; and, yet, that there is a distinction, may plainly be seen.
Thus a real cause may justly be the subject of praise or blame, as
all men admit : but though an instrument may sometimes be
called a cause, would it not be absurd, morally to praise or blame
it ? Or if, in common life, a man should say that he disliked sweet
things, would it not be unfair for any one to declare, thereupon, that
he abhorred music ; which, by analogy, is sometimes called sweet ?

56 THE DISSERTATION.
It seems that, with this word, the world (whether
properly or improperly) has been accustomed to con
nect the idea of efficiency; and thus, through
pure inadvertency, a writer may use it in the pre
mises of an argument in its secondary sense; and
yet, in the conclusion, assume for it a higher
meaning. The ambiguity of which we are speaking, did not
escape the observation of the ancient philosophers,
who carefully distinguished between several sorts of
Causes. 1 Plato, in the Timseus, makes a two-fold
division of Causes, into the necessary, and the divine,
which answer to the modern terms, natural and
supernatural ; under the latter of which, all intellect
would be classed. 2 It is observable that with the
Greeks the words alnu. and d^yjn were frequently
used as synonymous, so that the exact idea of a
Cause according to them was, a First principle, a
beginning. Thus in the Ethics of Aristotle, for
example, the same idea is conveyed by the two
phrases " a « dp^n ifcuQiv '' and " ottotxv y ulnx. iv toi?
£xto{." 3 But this strict meaning of the word Cause
was, by no means, universally preserved among
them, any more than among us. They sometimes,
for instance, would use that word to designate any
event which was antecedent to another. And this,
as I conceive, explains the meaning of Plato in the
As the oflsv i mmo-is the a hixa, &c. of the Peripatetics.
s Plato, it seems, elsewhere gives this division of causes ; the
"id ex quo "—"id a quo" — "id quo" — "id ad quod" and "id
propter quod."— See Seneca, Epist. 65.
5 Ethics ad Nic. b. 3 ; C. I.

THE DISSERTATION. 57
Parmenides, that throughout all nature one thing is
for ever generating some other thing ; that is to
say — Almost every thing is, in its turn, an upxf> a
beginning, a cause, to something else, though, in
strict truth, there is but one Absolute Eternal
Cause — to 'Ec.
The loose and vague signification of this word
was not of so mischievous a tendency among the
ancients, as it is among us, because they took pains
to avoid misconception, by scholastic definition. The
four-fold division of Causes, of the Peripatetics, was
exceedingly useful, in this respect, however ob
jectionable in others. They perceived that there !
were at least four essentially different ideas expressed
by the one word Cause, and they prevented the con
fusion of these ideas by introducing those distinc
tions which have received the scholastic names of Ma- ,
terial, Formal, Efficient, and Final Causes. 2 A mere
antecedent event, or an instrument, according to them
would be a Material Cause ; a law of nature (which '
is an abstraction formed by the mind from the facts
of nature) would be a Formal Cause ; a living agent !
' Thus too the doctrine of Plato, that external nature has no
absolute existence, in the highest sense of the word, but is ever in
a state of change (which is but another version of the notion of
Heraclitus, of a " perpetual flux ") intends amongst other things to
teach, The constant procession of events from causes ; and this, in
the opinion of Taylor, the modern Platonist, was the whole
meaning of the ancient doctrine of ' the continuous generation
of things.'
8 Dr. Reid seems strangely to deny that we have any modern
idea correspondent to Material and Formal Causes !— Essays on Act.
Powers I. Ch. 6 p. 460.

58 the dissertation.
would be the Efficient Cause ; and the end or purpose
! to be answered, the Final Cause. 1
But amono- us there are no such distinctions. It
is true that we make use of such phrases as " First
Cause" " Secondary Cause" " Immediate and Remote
Cause " — but the meanings attached to them are so
exceedingly indefinite, that they are of use only to
the sophist. Not that I am, therefore, about to pro
pose the re-introduction of the old scholastic phrases.
They must be acknowledged to be sufficiently intri
cate and artificial ; nor should I have made mention
of such trite details except for the sake of shewing
what very distinct notions are expressed by the one
word " cause," and how we are even more liable to
be deceived by them than were the ancients.
It seems but reasonable to conclude that there
may be some foundation in the nature of things for
the prevalence of this same mode of expression in
different languages ; otherwise, why should it have
happened ? It appears that the human mind has a
tendency to arrange the objects of its knowledge in
classes ; hence it frequently happens that from some
striking points of resemblance the same name may
be appropriated to objects essentially different. As
a familiar example of this incorrectness I would
mention the word " priest " which means simply an
elder — a presbyter of the christian church — and
yet is now universally applied, even to the ministers of
1 For the sake of illustration take a simple instance : I throw a
stone on the ground. The material cause of the effect produced, is
the impetus given ; — the formal cause is the law of gravitation ; — ¦
the efficient cause is, myself; — the final cause is the purpose
answered by the fallen stone.

THE dissertation. 59
pagan idolatry. L Thus it is not improbable that the
word " Cause " would be applied to certain different
ideas, on account of some resemblance or analogy
between them. We will, therefore, attempt to de
cide what is the strict and proper notion of a true
Cause, in reference to which, other things are, as it
were figuratively, called Causes.
It would be an unpardonable affectation, however,
wholly to pass over the labours of previous writers on
this subject. Some notice of them, indeed, is ren
dered necessary, in order to see the present state of
the question which we are discussing.
And here I would first of all observe, that the fact
on which I have been dwelling — that the word Cause
is used in many essentially different senses — has been
practically overlooked by even the best of our writers
on these subjects. Of all the acute metaphysicians
which this country has produced since the Revolu
tion, I know not one who has even tolerably
attended to this fact, if we except Boyle, Locke, and
Berkeley. To this remarkable circumstance must be
attributed the acknowledged failure of their specu
lations ; they produce no conviction in the mind of
the reader, though he cannot tell why it is. He sus
pects a fallacy, even where he is unable to detect it :
for, happily, false metaphysics do not often make a
1 The church of Rome has made excellent use of the fallacy
arising from this circumstance. The words 'Iejeu; and npo-fivrego;
being both translated by the same word, priest — they connect the
idea of sacrifice with that English word, and thence take occasion
to defend the sacrifice of the mass by declaring, " that Protestantism
is the only religion which has priests without a sacrifice !" — See
Whately.

60 THE dissertation.
permanent and successful inroad on the common
sense of mankind. It is easy, however, to mark the
plain consequence of forgetting the many and differ
ent meanings of one word ; the same definition of a
word is deemed applicable wherever that word is
used ; and when this is the case, it is not difficult to
foresee the web of sophistries in which the inquirer
will be involved. Even those who acknowledge the
ambiguity of this word, " Cause," often proceed as if
they had made no such acknowledgment. Some per
sons have that sort of simplicity which children have
when they imagine, that a " confession" of error re
medies all the mischiefs that result from it ; or, which
older children manifest, when they seem to think,
that by " plainly acknowledging'' a fault, they may
even gain credit for some analogous virtue.1 Even
the accurate J. Edwards makes an oversight almost
amounting to this.2 He seems even to make a parade
of his strictness and carefulness, by advertising his
reader, that he uses the word " Cause," to signify any
antecedent, " either natural or moral, positive or
negative, on which any event, either a thing, or the
manner and circumstance of a thing, so depends, that
it is the ground and reason, either in whole, or in
part, why it is, rather than not, &c." He actually
thinks, that he is " careful in explaining his mean
ing,5' and " cuts off occasion for cavilling;" by con
fessing, that he thus confounds the ideas of agent,
instrument, occasion, antecedent, reason, &c, as if
1 Thus a man acknowledges himself a " spendthrift" or " care
less," hoping to be only thought generous or liberal.
2 Enquiry, Part ii. sec. 3.

the dissertation. 61
they were synonymous terms ! By acknowledging
this indiscriminate use of the word Cause, he thinks
that he acquires a right to use it in his premises and
conclusions, just as it may suit him. But it will
scarcely be conceded that a confession of confused
language is a legitimate substitute for precision ;
though, unquestionably, this appearance of candour
in an author has a tendency to throw the reader off
his guard. We are apt to allow of a certain liberty
of expression, when a writer acknowledges it, just as
we forgive the minor delinquencies of some men,
when they have forewarned us, it is " their way." We
shall have occasion to notice, as we proceed, some of
the effects of such inaccuracy.
Mr. Hume may fairly be styled the first who called <
in question that vulgar opinion, which confessedly!
connects the idea of Efficiency with Causation. Pro-/1
fessor D. Stewart, in one of his disparaging moods,
disputes his claim to this honor, and produces a
learned list of recondite passages from authors who
had anticipated him.1 Whatever opinion be formed
concerning those passages, few persons will dispute
that Mr. Hume was in reality the very first, at any
rate, who improved upon the hints found in other
authors, and denied the existence of Efficient Causes.
In one thing, at least, the philosophers and the vulgar
had agreed, from Pythagoras to Hume, namely in
this — " That whatever begins to be must have a
cause." This proposition Mr. Hume boldly called in
question. 1 Philos. of Human Mind, vol. i., note D.

62 the dissertation.
He carefully examined1 the arguments advanced in
favor of it by Hobbes, Clarke and Locke, and main
tained, that they take for granted in their premises
the very position which they ought to prove. On the
implied supposition that things may begin to be
without a Cause,2 he founded the doctrine, that we
know nothing of the relation of what are called Causes
and Effects, beyond the fact of their constant junction,
and perhaps their apparent relative fitness. Dr. Reid,
his laborious opponent, maintained that Dr. Clarke's
proposition did not admit of proof, being " self-evi
dent." He also clearly pointed out the atheistical
tendency of Hume's doctrine ; which truly requires
but little pointing out. For if any thing could start
from absolute nothing, and " begin to be" without a
Cause, there could be no need of a Creator for the
1 Treatise of Human Nature.
3 I say , " the implied supposition ;" for Mr. Hume does not
affirm that nothing ever " begins to be," though he sometimes
argues as if this were his hypothesis. I should be sorry to impute
bad motives to any writer, or to seem blind to the manifold beauties
of Mr. Hume's writings, or the real service which he has rendered
to the cause of intellectual science ; but I am bound to say, what I
believe every honest seeker of truth will admit, that it is a favourite
resource of Mr. Hume to argue, by enthymeme, and suppress a sus
picious-looking premiss, even when his whole argument depends on
it. For instance : When he examines the arguments of Clarke and
others concerning the a priori proof of the being of God, he charges
them with being guilty of a petitio principii, for assuming in either
premises that things begin to be. Now, if he had boldly stated,
that nothing ever " begins to be,'' the experience of every man
would have contradicted him ; because every man knows that
different thoughts of his own mind and actions of his body are con
stantly " beginning to be." On this subject, see farther — note B. and
also part ii. sect. 1. On lawful and unlawful assumptions.

THE DISSERTATION. 63
world. But I would remind any one who already
believes in a God, whether he be christian or deist,
that with us, there can be no controversy on this
subject ; for the existence of the Creator cannot be
admitted, without, at the same time, establishing the
doctrine of Efficient Causation.
One of the latest and most elegant writers on meta
physics, Dr. Brown, has made a vigorous effort to
revive Hume's doctrine. He exposed, in an able
manuer, some misconceptions which Reid had formed
on this, as well as other subjects, and he endeavoured
to shew, that scepticism was not the natural conse
quence of the denial of Efficient Causation. He con
sidered that the invariable sequence of events made
it just as possible to argue from one event to another,
as if the most mystical efficiency were granted. By
overlooking the word " invariable," and the certainty
of every thing which it provides for, he thought that
Reid had wholly mistaken the nature of Hume's
doctrine. The fallacy of this reply to Reid consists in this :—
Hume's argument is grounded on the past invaria
bility, which we gather from experience. He allows
that there always has been a juxta-position of certain
objects, but that does not prove that there always
will be.1 So that, the theory of both Hume and
Brown is still to be considered chargeable with all
the consequences of the most inveterate and unrea
sonable scepticism.
1 Brown ascribes our belief in the future sequence of events to
intuition. Hume to custom : both (mere abstractions) which may
be fallacious.

64 THE DISSERTATION.
Indeed Dr. Brown seems, unconsciously perhaps,
to be the greater sceptic of the two. He has, cer
tainly, gone a step farther than his careful master ;
though he occasionally differs from him, in unimportant
particulars. In his " Enquiry into the relation of
Cause and Effect," he seems to think that Hume has
rather understated, than overstated, his argument.
He even complains of him, for adding to his defini
tion of a " Cause." That it has a kind of fitness to
produce the effect.1 According to Dr. Brown, " the
mere relation of uniform antecedency is all that can
be philosophically meant in the words power and cau
sation.'' (Enquiry.) In his seventh lecture (written
subsequently to " the Enquiry," he gives the follow
ing definitions of, what he calls the " three most im
portant words in physics :" —
Power, is " immediate invariable antecedence."
A Cause, is " the immediate invariable antecedent."
An Effect, is " the immediate invariable conse
quent." Now, if a writer chooses to use any word in a par
ticular sense, and forewarns his reader of it, I see not
what is to hinder him ; but it surely is not a little
strange that he should attempt to convince us that we
do not understand our own meaning ; that this par
ticular sense, which he has discovered, is no other
than that which every body admitted without know
ing it ! I am confident that I, for one, do not mean
by these words what Dr. Brown says. Let us notice
1 Mr. Hume's words are, that a cause is " so united to its effect,
that the idea of one determines the mind to form the idea of the
other !"

THE DISSERTATION. 65
for a moment the first of these definitions, as the
foundation of the rest. " Power," it is said, " is im
mediate invariable antecedence.'" I would ask then
with Dr. Reid, ' whether there is a power in the
night to produce the day?' — for they stand in the
relation of invariable and immediate antecedence and
subsequence. Dr. Brown replied to this, that night
and day were neither of them wholes — but each a
series of parts. But I see not how this alters the case,
except to make it still stronger against himself : for,
the single instance of night and day may thus be
broken up into a hundred parts, each of which would
furnish an argument against the theory, that mere
antecedence is power. It may also be further shown,
that as we sometimes acknowledge antecedence where
we do not acknowledge power — so, where we allow
the existence of power, we intend thereby something
essentially different from antecedence ; as will shortly,
I think, appear.
It is probable that our first idea of " power,"
or efficiency, admits of no analysis. Locke makes
a twofold division of power; — into active and pas
sive : but most persons will, I imagine, agree with
Dr. Reid, — that the phrase " passive power'' implies
a contradiction. The introduction of such a phrase
is, at any rate, unnecessary ; for as the ideas of action
and passion are essentially distinct, to call them both
by one name would inevitably lead to much confu
sion. The notion thus entertained by Locke seems,
indeed, to be nothing more than a revival of an old
1 Thus Dr. Brown ventures even to affirm that the Will of Goo
is merely the antecedent of Creation Lect. 7.
F

66 THE DISSERTATION.
error of the Peripatetics, who spoke of motion as
" the one act of the mover and the thing moved,"
without distinguishing cause from effect. But it
is not for me to exhume departed errors, for the sake
of exposing them. It is enough for the purposes of
my argument, that every man, by examining his own
mind, may find that he has an idea of power distinct
from that of antecedence. This is, I own, my best
argument. I build on the facts of the human mind.
I appeal to every man's common sense, and ask —
whether there be not some farther connexion be
tween a living man and his actions, than between
two stones that lie side-by-side in the quarry ? Con
cerning this fact let every man judge for himself—
yvafli o-ixvtov. For myself, I have no doubt in the
matter. If I lift my hand, and strike my neighbour
to the ground, I suspect that he would very justly
take me to be something more than the " mere ante
cedent" of the event. The law, at any rate, would
deal with me as an " efficient cause" of the mis
chief; and Dr. Brown himself could not explode my
efficiency.1 It may, perhaps, be thought, that I have dwelt
quite long enough on this fanciful hypothesis. But
men of genius have made it of so much consequence,
that it must not be hastily dismissed. It is also of
importance thus to connect Dr. Brown's theory with
his confounding the many ideas which the word
1 Dr. Brown argues against the absurdity of saying that " mil
has a power to move the arm." It is easy to invent a phrase for
the sake of exposing it. No close thinker would be likely to use
such language. The agent has the power.

THE DISSERTATION. 67
Cause represents. It is true, that some antecedents
are called causes ; and this fact might partly deceive
him ;— -and, from the examples which he gives, it
seems certain that it did. I need hardly mention to
any of his readers, his hacknied instance of the
" spark and the gunpowder." It is unfortunate that
he did not oftener try his theory by some better test.
We may readily allow, that all which we know in the
case of the spark and the explosion of gunpowder is
the fact of antecedence and subsequence ; but are we,
therefore, obliged to allow that there is no such thing
as efficient agency in other cases which are not at all
similar to this ; as, for instance, that of a man and his
actions ? Dr. Brown's theory, by overlooking the
ambiguity of the word Cause, utterly destroys the
very idea of an active cause, or agent, and leaves us
a paradoxical universe of things acted upon, and no
thing acting. Of the two definitions of causation,
Mr. Hume's is certainly the better; and its excel
lency lies in that very part to which his disciple
objected. Hume was too cautious a writer not to
allow, that the antecedence was of such a kind that
the effect did not follow without it. But Dr. Brown,
in his ambition to improve on his more accurate pre
decessor, does not seem to admit of any such fitness
of the one event to precede the other ; which, never
theless, is a plain fact. It may well excite our
surprise, that a system, directly opposed to the
opinion of universal philosophy1 and common sense,
in all ages, — i. e. to all the facts of the human mind,
1 It has been thought, indeed, the chief end of philosophy, to in
vestigate causes. See Reid, Essay vi. C. 6.
F 2

68 THE DISSERTATION.
—should have powerful and acute defenders in these
days. Let us now revert to that simple proposition from
which we set out — which Plato and all the ancients,
Locke and all the moderns admitted, (except the
disciples of Hume,) viz., " That whatever begins to
be must have a cause." On this truth our whole
doctrine depends ; and this truth depends on our
postulate, p. 46. There is but a short step from dis
puting the doctrine of Causation to denying the
fact ; but, fortunately, just as short is the process by
which every man, from feeling- that he himself is
oftentimes more than a mere antecedent, (from being
certain of the fact that he himself is often an efficient
ageut,) might decide on the truth of the doctrine of
Causation. Dr. Brown, in endeavouring to answer the argu
ments of Euler and D'Alembert, complains of the
veneration with which men regard such grave mathe
matical termsas " scholium" and " corollary ;" and
hints, that sophisms pass undetected owing to these
high-sounding names. I do not pretend to an extra
vagant reverence for mathematicians, and am quite
disposed to admit that the learned apparatus with
which they are surrounded is well suited to impress
the vulgar with a very salutary idea of the importance
of their science ;— nay, it is possible, that some of
their most recondite abstractions may look best at a
distance. But, still, I cannot help thinking that our
ambitious metaphysicians might be content with
having as solid a foundation for their disquisitions as
that on which the physical sciences rest.

THE DISSERTATION. 69
Unless we really know something to begin with,
we can never argue. We must proceed from things
known — (from experimental or from necessary1 truth
— the yvufijiAfls u'juii/, or the ymgipa. xrrXut) — to things
unknown. What Locke says of a man who disputes
{or pretends to dispute) his own existence — " that to
argue with him is absurd, as it is arguing with
nothing," — may be almost applied to the sceptic who
disputes first principles. Whatever is traced to its
origin in the human constitution, (i. e. in human
beings as such,) is surely a fact from which we may
-safely argue. It is not the part of true philosophy
either to deny facts, or to assign fanciful reasons for
them. Hume, therefore, cannot be reckoned a phi
losopher, when he attempts to account for the
fact of the universal prevalence of the idea of effi
cient causation, by imputing it to " the liveliness
of our conceptions ;" nor Brown, when he rejects
this curious doctrine, (or rather disputes it,) and yet
does not perceive (what we laid down at first as
a postulate) " that the facts of the human mind
are sufficient data for the science of the human
mind." If the great masters of physical science had pro
ceeded thus, we should still have been on the mere
threshold of knowledge, disputing about words.
Newton, taking for granted that every event has a
cause,2 lays down as the first Axiom of the Principia,
that every body, whether in rest or motion, remains
' The yvu$i\j.a, i/Mv are properly known by experience ; but Mr.
Hume disputes the existence of the yme'/Mx airXas.
2 See the first page of the Principia.

70 THE DISSERTATION.
for ever exactly as it is, unless its situation be altered
by some external cause. This law he states in these
words : —
" Corpus omne perseverare in statu suo quiescendi
vel movendi uniformiter in directum, nisi quatenus
illud, a viribus impressis, cogitur statum suum
mutare." The second law is equally in point :—
" Mutationem motus proportionalem esse vi motrici
impressse, et fieri secundum lineam rectam qua vis
ilia imprimitur." These laws, from which the mo
tions of the whole planetary system are demonstrated,
rely wholly on that principle which Newton thought
self-evident, and which the followers of Hume refuse
to admit, viz., that for every beginning of every new
state of being there must be an efficient cause. And
I really believe that one may be permitted to agree
with Newton in this matter, without being charge
able with an undue reverence for the Mathema
ticians. Of all the arguments in defence of this plain
" Truth of Reason," the profoundest, the fullest, and
the best, is Dr. Clark's.1 To those who are dissatis,
fied with it, I would put this question : Supposing
the proposition of Clark to be a Truth (and who will
deny its possibility,) does it admit of any better and
fuller proof than he has given ? To me it seems an
impossibility in the nature of things.
But the truths of Mathematics do not depend on
doubtful abstract arguments.
The fact that bodies are naturally inert, and the
1 Which is, in fact, the Argumentum ad absurdum, of whieh see
Part II. sect. 3.

THE DISSERTATION. 71
fact that they do really move, are deemed sufficient
by the Mathematicians to justify them in speaking
of the Inertia and the Motion of Bodies. To attribute
these two opposites, inertia and motion, alike to
the nature of body is impossible. By experiment
they become convinced of the fact that body is inert,
they therefore think it reasonable to ascribe the
motion of body to something apart from itself, and
to this something they give the name of Force, and
say, that force is the cause of motion. Various as
may be the theories to account for the operation of
force on bodies, no one disputes the fact. According i
to Newton, the force having once communicated/
motion, the body, being naturally inert, would con-
tinue moving, and be unable to return, of itself, to a \
state of rest. " Consistit hsec vis in actione sola, \
neque post actionenKpermanet in corpore." — (Def. 4.) j
Torricelli, on the contrary — seeming to think that i
Body, being naturally inert, would instantly return to j
a state of rest — conceived that a " cumulum quendam
sive aggregatum virium impressarum" was necessary,
by a continued and instantaneous percussion, to keep
the body moving. But both theories acknowledged
the necessity of Force as a Cause of motion ; and the
latter even more than the former. Both depend on
the supposition of an Efficient power distinct from
the body to be moved ; and neither would allow
even the acceleration of the motion of a body without
an adequate Cause.1 This seemed a necessary \
truth ; but what that cause might be, Newton ac-
1 And the " acceleration of motion" may be well reflected on ;
as it oftener comes under our observation than a first beginning.

72 THE DISSERTATION.
knowledged that he did not enquire ; but he allowed
that it was something distinct from body ; and Tori-,
celli admitted the same.1 " La forza et l'empeti sono
astratti tan to sottili, sono quintessenzetanto spiritose,
che in altre ampolle non si possono rachiudere, fuor
/ che nell' intima corpulenza de solidi naturali." If
f indeed we were even to grant the truth of Mr.
Hume's assertion, that no knowledge of Causation
| is derivable from experience (though this is con-
• tradicted by every man's experience of his own
; thoughts), we might still maintain that it is a
necessary Truth of Reason; because it is impossible
ito imagine its falsehood without imagining a contra
diction. Indeed I would be content to put the truth
of this fundamental axiom — " That every new event
must have a Cause," upon this trial. Let any man of
competent understanding attempt to conceive of an
inanimate, inert body suddenly starting into motion,
without a Cause ; or of an inanimate, moving body
suddenly accelerating its own motion, without a
Cause. If he can imagine such a thing as really
\ taking place, I shall be surprised. I freely own
it is an effort of imagination beyond my capacity.
Edwards, in his patient enquiry into the nature
of the human will, has a chapter in which he tries
to demonstrate a proposition of the same kind with
that under consideration, viz., "that there is no event
without a Cause." If this required proof, and there
were no other than Edwards brings, I might be dis
satisfied ; especially as he seems almost to exclude
1 Lezioni Academiche.

THE DISSERTATION. 73
Intelligence from being a Cause. But this truth is,
as Edwards says, " the very first dictate of common
sense." Every man throughout life, from the legislator
to the peasant, acts from a conviction, That one thing
results from and by another ;' i. e. from an innate
belief in the Doctrine of Causation ; nor would it
invalidate this fact to show, that it admitted of further
analysis ; or, that it is sometimes perverted so as to
become the source of error. To destroy this belief [
would render science an impossibility, and life itself )
a most desperate game of chance. If, indeed, our
original Postulate be admitted, Causation cannot be
denied. Therefore, with the example of the Mathe- /
maticians before him, and an enlightened common j
sense to guide him, the metaphysical reasoner may ,
take leave of the disciples of Hume, and lay down j
this fundamental Axiom, this Truth of pure Rea-1
son: that, whatever begins to be must have I
A CAUSE. <
The admission of this principle will lead us to the
definition of which we are in search ; which will be an
answer to the question with which we commenced
our enquiry — what is a Cause ?
Allowing that it is reasonable, on the occurrence of
any new event, to enquire — why has this taken
place? — that is, what cause was there for its begin
ning to be, when before it was not? a man, by ex
amining his own thoughts, may decide on the nature
of a Cause. This method of investigation, which I
constantly pursue, will, 1 hope, effectually prevent the
1 Even " Savages," says the Abbe Raynal, " wherever they see
motion that they cannot explain, suppose a soul."

74 THE DISSERTATION.
suspicion, that the definition, which will be here given,
is an arbitrary one, framed for the sake of the conclu
sions to be drawn from it. As I would take pains to
avoid such insincerity at the outset of a search after
Truth, so I trust it may not be imputed to me at the
close, by those who, from an unwillingness to receive
my conclusions, may find it convenient to doubt the
premises. A due caution in admitting principles I
do not deprecate, but should we not exercise equal
caution before we reject principles 1 And are we to
imagine that men of plain, sound understanding,
fairly arguing from right principles, will come to
wrong conclusions ?
If then, on the occurrence of some new event, we
enquire for the " cause," I ask any man to consider
what answer will satisfy him. Will it suffice to point
out the instrument ? or the occasion ? or the reason
of the event ? Surely, it is " a dictate of our com
mon sense," that no instrument can operate of itself:
no mere instrument, of itself, makes anything " begin
to be." But, according to our axiom, p. 73, there must
be a something which makes it begin to be ; and it
is That which we are in search of. The question is, what
is the efficient cause — which guides the instrument, uses
the occasion, and entertains the reason of the event?
The simplest idea of a Cause, therefore, is-^THAT
WHICH, OF ITSELF, MAKES ANY THING BEGIN
TO BE.
This definition, which is substantially the same as
that of Locke and our best writers, and which is
deduced from the plain operation of our own minds,
agrees with the common sense of mankind. Nor does

THE DISSERTATION. 75
it, in any respect, differ from the old philosophical
*PX" — an origin, a beginning, a genesis. I am now
wholly unable to imagine two more perfect op-
posites than these two things ; one which has
such a nature that it can and does originate
other things ; and one which has such a nature
that it cannot possibly originate anything. I suppose
that the most sceptical will allow that these are two
essentially different beings, as wholly distinct from
each other as the ideas of entity and non-entity. Ex
actly in such opposition stand the ideas of " cause''
and " instrument ;" for the essence of the one consists
in a power to originate, which, by its very nature, the
other never has, nor can have. It follows, that the word
Cause can never be applied to an instrument, except
figuratively. I dwell not, in this place, on the inaccu
racy of calling Occasions, and Reasons, the Causes of
things.1 I shall notice them however hereafter, and
here only observe, that there seems a violent incon
sistency in imputing to such abstractions (which have
themselves no existence at all, except a fanciful
one in our minds), the actual " power" of calling
events and actions into being! But I here rather
select the strongest possible case, that of an evident
antecedent Instrument, which contributes to the
event ; and I affirm, that it has of itself no power,
even in a figurative sense of the word, except in sub
servience to some real Cause — an Agent, I am afraid
to seem prolix in insisting on so plain a point, If an
Instrument could, of itself, originate, begin any
thing, it would no longer be what we understand by
the word instrument. It would cease to be a thing,
1 See sect. 2.

76 THE DISSERTATION.
and become a person, endowed with power, mo
tion, life. So that our definition may now be
simply expressed thus. A true Cause must necessa
rily have Life : — Life, not in the sense in which vege
tables are said to live (which is only said by ana
logy') ; but Life which has in itself a Power, which
can spontaneously be exerted on an object : — I
say " spontaneously ;" and I desire any one to think,
whether, to abstract spontaneity from any Cause
would not be to make it, so far forth, a mere Instru
ment? I therefore advance a step further, and
affirm that the right and complete definition of a
" Cause,'' is a living Being which has a power of
spontaneous action ; that is to say, an intelli
gence.8 For, indeed, it seems to involve a plain
contradiction, to say that a lifeless non-intelligent
thingshould be a " Cause," a beginning, an originator,
of that which has no previous existence.3 I again
own that Instruments, Occasions, and other antece
dents, are often called1 Causes ; but they can be only
figuratively called so, from their likeness to a real
Cause in some external particulars (as, for instance,
antecedence), which suggest the idea of similitude.
Any thing more than this, I utterly deny them. Real
Causes, true beginnings, they cannot be. I appeal to
the honest judgment of any man, in so plain a
matter. If it be admitted, that there is no real Cause except
an Intelligence, a question will next arise — whether,
1 See Boyle's Disquisition on Final Causes, where this point is
enlarged on.
2 That is, something above mere Nature, viz. Mind.
3 Hence the absurdity of speaking of " matter acting on mind."
4 See Whately's Logic, p. 175.

THE DISSERTATION. it
in all nature, there be but one real Cause, and all
things besides, whether intelligent or not, be nothing
but (instrumental and consequent) effects ? Or, on
the other hand, whether Intelligence is, of its own
nature, causal ? — that is to say, whether every intelli
gent Being, however finite, is, so far as his finite
nature extends, a Cause, capable of originating action
— physical, moral, and intellectual ?
To put this latter question in its most practical form
— Has not every man, within himself, an inscrutable
life-spring, oftentimes self-acting, and self-controlled?
Be it observed, that it would not in the least hinder
our acquiescence in this conclusion, to show that every
finite intelligence must adapt himself, and be sub
servient, to certain laws of nature — physical, moral,
and intellectual. This is readily admitted. It is
necessary, that, if an intelligence be finite, it be cir
cumscribed and controlled by peculiar laws. The J
only question is, whether, owing to what I have'
termed an " inscrutable life-spring within him," every
Intelligence may not act, refrain from action, and
renew action, in his own finite sphere ? Whether a
man, for instance, may not act from himself alone,
without any other Intelligence necessarily being a
Cause to him ? I do not hesitate to believe, that he
may and does ; and I see not, why I may not, there
fore, at once conclude that finite Intelligences are
true Causes. A correct reasoner must decide in every
case, according to the phenomena ; and one of the
most striking phenomena in the present case cer
tainly is, That every man believes himself to be an
originator — an agent. The educated and the un-

78 THE DISSERTATION.
educated act alike on this conviction. Is our nature
one universal lie?
It must be owned to be highly unreasonable to
believe in the existence of what we do not perceive
either by our senses or the light of reason. There
fore I would .ask any man whether he does not often,
and in fact hourly, think, and feel, and act, without
perceiving that he is first acted upon by any other
intelligent being ? It will not of course be disputed
that outward (or more properly sensible) things are
occasions of thought and instruments of action ; but,
as we have seen, an Intelligence alone is a true Cause,
and therefore I confine my question to that. Most
persons will, I think, admit that they often act
without any other Intelligence even partially sug
gesting the course they should pursue; much less
wholly originating and controlling it. It may be
said, that in the presence of every sensible occasion
of thought or action, a finite Intelligence is often
obliged to think and act in one certain way, and no
other. But what more is implied in this than that
which was before allowed — that a finite Intelligence
must act in conformity with the fixed laws of nature?
— That a finite Cause is not an infinite ? But I would
go so far as to own that if ever one Intelligence, or
thinking being, yov spirit, is conscious that another
spirit is operating upon it, in an irresistible way (and
I do not deny that this may be), that second spirit is
the true Cause of whatever event ensues. When one
Intelligence is made use of by another, it becomes,
to a certain extent, a kind of instrument ; but until
men are fully conscious that they are thus the sub-

THE DISSERTATION. 79
jects of restraint and control, they will assuredly be
justified in believing that their actions are originated
by themselves alone, and modified by themselves,
according to the laws of nature, and only in obedience
to them.
A notion very similar to this for which I have
been contending, is advanced by Plato in the Phsedo.
It seemed to him that intellect is the only "Cause,"
and of all other things in nature he asserts, without
disguise, asiTia fj.iv rae. toi«utos xccXiw Xixv olrowov. There
is much to this purpose in many parts of that
dialogue ; (as well as in the Timseus). As, for in
stance, when he asserts the superiority of the go
verning mind over the bodily affections and desires.
And, again, when he puts this question into the
mouth of Socrates, ' what is the cause that I am
sitting here ? ' He replies, that if would be absurd
to say that it was the adjustment of his bodily limbs,
or any other bodily thing, the real Cause being the
judgment of the Athenians which condemned him,
and the judgment of his own Intellect, that, when he
had an opportunity to escape, it was better to obey
the law. In about the same part of that dialogue,
Plato declares himself highly delighted with the
doctrine of Anaxagoras, that Na? is the apx,* mi
xiwa-£wj, or, as he expresses it, (much to the be
wildering of certain learned critics) " tHa-^voc ibpyxwai.
wpriVj SiStza-xxhov rric annxg iripi rw ovruv x«t« Nsi/
I/xauTa ;" but he finds fault with his master, for not
adhering to this principle, and for falling off into
the common error, of reckoning instruments and
occasions, as the " causes of things. "_^_

80 THE DISSERTATION.
I have thus far taken no distinct notice of the
hypothesis, that there is in all nature but one real
Cause, and that all finite Intelligences are mere In
struments. Indeed I have but little to say to so
extravagant a theory, which is sufficiently disproved
by what has been demonstrated concerning con
sciousness. The utmost that can be said for it is,
that it is not a palpable impossibility ; so that the
obstinate may think it a fortunate and impregnable
retreat ; and if they insist on defending it, as Hartley
and others have done, it cannot be helped. It is
certain that they can bring no proof of it, for all the
evidence seems to tell directly against it ; and it is
as certainly contradicted by the most enlightened
common sense of mankind. I shall therefore content
myself with stating, to such as entertain this belief,
that, in the first place, it is subversive of all notions
of nierit and demerit, punishment and reward ; in a
word, of all morality ; and this is, to me, a sufficient
reason for rejecting it. In the second place ; they
who have the satisfaction of believing a theory,
without a shadow of reason to support it, may rest
quite secure in the certainty that their favourite
hypothesis will never be disproved. And this may
perhaps be a sufficient reason for their embracing it.
But so long as it is deemed most unreasonable to
hold an opinion, on any subject, contrary to all the
phenomena, this ultra-visionary theory is not likely
to delude mankind.
We may certainly admit, as I before hinted, that
there are times when the Eternal Spirit — the Mighty
God — directly influences, and even irresistibly con-

THE DISSERTATION. 81
trols, the minds of men — but then they are conscious
of it; and I equally maintain, that the general actions
of mankind are self-originated ; and of this too every
man is conscious.
The conclusion at which we have now arrived,
concerning the intelligent nature of all causes, will
help us to decide on the well-known controversy con
cerning the relation of Cause and Effect. I suppose
that no man will now doubt that there is, and must
be, a necessary connexion between an intelligent
originator and the thing originated — a thinker and a
thought — an agent and an act. Could any one, who
understands the meaning of words, say that it was
the result of accident, that an intelligence originated
an action ? that is to say, that there was merely a
" sequence of two events ? " — So that it might have
possibly happened that the relation between them
should have been wholly reversed, and the action
have been cause, and the intelligence effect ? Such a
proposition has absolutely no meaning at all. To
suppose that an action could become a true " cause,"
contradicts what has been before proved — That intel
ligence is the only Cause. To say that an active
principle could be " originated " by that which is,
by its very nature, passive, is a most vehement ab
surdity. Whatever can " begin to originate '' ceases
to be passive, and becomes an active principle — ¦
essential intellect, Na?. A perception of the true
nature of a cause enables us therefore, at once, to
decide, That it has an efficient connexion with its
effect. But concerning what are erroneously called
g

82 THE DISSERTATION.
" physical causes," that is, the instruments and occa
sions of things (in other words the whole sensible
world), I must undoubtedly agree with those who
assert that there is no necessary efficient connexion
between any two objects. To suppose, indeed, that
there is anything more than the fact of Sequence,
and, occasionally, the fact of Fitness, would overthrow
all our former conclusions. It would make every
sensible occasion, every law of nature, and every
abstraction of mind, to be an efficient active prin
ciple, an Intelligent cause. It has ever appeared to
me to be wholly impossible to allow any degree of
innate efficiency to any such merely nominal cause,
as a " Law of Nature," without embracing the
whole system of Pantheism. Nor can it be imagined
that the denial of this efficiency introduces the least
doubt or uncertainty into philosophy. The invariable
present and future junction of Antecedents and Con
sequents (the former the subject of experience — the
latter of belief in the Law of Causation) will give
just as much certainty and stability to the Laws of
Nature and our conclusions therefrom, as any sup
posed efficient powers in Nature itself; and indeed
still greater, unless these supposed powers are om
nipotent ; because such invariable junction results;
as we must admit, from an Intelligent Cause : and
the believer in God will maintain that the invariable
Sequence in Nature is the result of the firm ordi
nation of Him who is the Intelligent and Mighty
Cause of all.
Thus the whole question lies before us in very
small compass —

THE DISSERTATION. 83
Wherever there is Originating Efficiency there
must be Life — Power — Spontaneous Motion — in a
word, Intelligence. Therefore, to say that any
" Laws " or Nominal " Powers of Nature " are
Efficient, Self-originating, or Self-operating, is to
deify Nature ; and such a system of Pantheism may
suit Spinoza, but will not suit the Christian ; for
whatever the Philosopher may say, it is practical
Atheism. Yet, strange as it may seem, this Atheistic
notion of the necessary connexion of natural things,
is most extensively entertained in the world, and is
often dexterously represented as the foundation of
the argument for the existence of Deity ! — while, on
the contrary, it is so utterly destructive of every
such argument, that the man who entertains it may
be safely challenged to give a reason for his faith
in God.
The amount of our conclusions thus far, founded
on the "Truth of Reason'' — 'That whatever begins
to be has a Cause ' — appears to be simply this :
Proposition I. Every Cause is an Intelligence.
And, conversely, every Intelli
gence is a Cause. Whence,
Proposition II. There is an Efficient necessary
connexion between such True
Causes and their Effects ; but not
between any other two objects or
events. Whence we deduce,
Propositionlll. There is a Law of Invariable
Sequence, (frequently manifesting
fitness) among natural objects and
g 2

84 the dissertation.
events (which must be the result
of some Intelligence) ; so that
from the Antecedence of one we
may expect another, as its subse
quent ; but not as its consequent.
These three Propositions are necessary, both to
Theology as a Science, and to Religion as a Reality.
They develope, in more explicit language, the General
Doctrine of Causation, with which this Dissertation
commenced, and are to be considered as data for
our future arguments.

85

SECTION II.
Of Moral Causes.
There is, I am fully aware, a too general impres
sion that the Doctrine of Causation is inconsistent
with the Free-agency of Man. Many respectable
writers, who seem to have felt the force of the argu
ment for this doctrine, have hesitated to receive it,
on account of its apparent repugnance to Moral
Freedom. Thus the very argument from Effect to
Cause, on which they generally relied for their proof
of the Being of God, seemed, when thoroughly
carried out, to undermine all Morality and Religion.
Before we enter, therefore, on the consideration of
what are called " Final Causes " it seems necessary
to consider the subject of Moral Causation. For,
unless a right judgment be formed on this point,
Theology, as a natural science, is the most barren
of all speculations. We might, indeed, erect a gloomy
altar to " an unknown God " but if we be not Moral
Agents, we could not reverence, love, or rationally
obey him. He would be to us a dark abstraction.
The first link in the iron chain of the Universe !
The obscure Theology of Nature is an object not
worth pursuing, if Religion and Morality are im
possible. If the Doctrine of Causation had been always
clearly understood in the manner which I have en-

86 the dissertation.
deavoured to enforce, this controversy would prob
ably never have arisen. The careless introduction
and indefinite use of abstract terms have (as Bishop
Berkeley long since observed)' brought much ob
scurity into Metaphysical Science ; and certainly
this doctrine of Causation has suffered greatly, as
well as others. I cannot too earnestly exhort every
one who would think accurately to be on his guard
against these " abstract terms." It must be evident
to all, how much that part of our subject, which has
been already discussed, was mystified by these ab
stractions. Thus, to get rid of the Doctrine of
Intelligent Causation, Mr. Hume introduces such
Imaginary Phantoms as "Experience," and "Habit,"
and treats them as really existing things or persons;
saying that " Custom operates on Imagination." In
the same manner, this verbal trifling has infected
the inquiry concerning Moral Causes. Such sense
less abstractions as necessity, fate, and chance,
have had powerful champions, seeming to vie with
each other in perplexing a plain subject. There will
be occasion also to notice, as we advance, some other
very innocent-looking abstractions which have had
a considerable influence in deceiving the world.
(Seep. 90 &c.)
A clear conception of the Doctrine of Causation
will enable us to meet the Sceptic on his own ground,
and the Moralist on his. By Proposition °I, We
admit a Law of Efficient Causation, as strict as the
1 See the Introduction to his "Principles of Human Knowledge"
which contains, even in Mr. Hume's opinion, the greatest discovery
of Modern Science.

the dissertation. 87
most philosophic believer in " necessity " could
demand — but we reject the unmeaning words " ne
cessity" and "fate." We maintain the essential
spontaneity of a Cause, and, by Proposition II,
its necessary (and not accidental) connexion with its
effect ; but we reject the term " Free Will," as an
unintelligible abstraction. By Proposition III, we
infallibly trace one event to another, till we arrive
at an agent. Moreover we impute essential freedom
to every Agent — every Cause — but Infinite Freedom
only to the Infinite Agent, the Infinite Cause. We
thus make the Law of Causation not merely con
sistent with, but the very basis of, all possible
Morality — the sole foundation of Human Responsi
bility. Aristotle has observed, in his chapter on Volun
tary Action, that a man is blamed or praised for that
of which the principle, or beginning, is " within
himself," " £ uc a'f^n iv ot'tio." l And such is the in
stinctive judgment, the ordinary feeling of mankind.
Our common ideas of praise and blame seem to be
founded in a true philosophy, and in the nature of
things ; for every intelligent being, as we have seen,
is the spontaneous Cause .of Action, and the only
possible Cause : — and, also, there is an essential
connection between the Cause and its Effect. The
old problem — " Why all men believe themselves to
be the free Agents, when their Actions must neces
sarily result from some Cause" — presents no diffi
culty whatever to us. On the contrary, the latter
1 Ethics ad Nic. 1. iii c 1.

88 the dissertation.
fact accounts for the former.1 But we are not left to
draw this fact of our free agency, as a mere inference
from the Law of Causation. The evidence for this
fact is as strong and immediate, as it is for that of
Causation itself; it is, indeed, of precisely the same
character. It will be remembered that we laid down at first,
that the ' undeniable facts of our nature are a basis
broad enough and strong enough for us to build
thereon the science of our nature.'
If, therefore, any Sophist declares that there is no
connection between a cause and its effect, but that
" mere sequence " is all that can be predicated, I ask
any man simply to look into his own thoughts, and
decide, whether he does not feel and know, that there
is often a real connection, totally distinct from the
fact of sequence, between himself and his actions ? 1
appeal to his " consciousness," and I should not be
afraid to risk the whole Doctrine of Causation on
his answer. And, in exactly the same manner, I
would ask any one to decide for himself, whether he
does not feel as certain of the fact, that he is an
Agent — [that is, Free) — as that he exists ? Of both
facts he is equally conscious.
This idea of " consciousness " is, I am aware,
1 I object to the phrase free-will, and in so doing I only follow
in the steps of Locke. (See Essay.) The phrase is absurd. When
an Act of Will has come into being, it cannot be called free ; and
before it comes into being, it has, of course, no existence either as
free, or not free. It seems as absurd to say tree-uiUI, as it would
be to talk of WHiTE-black, non-inclined inclination — or any
other incongruity or impossibility. The freedom is in the Agent.

the dissertation. 89
often objected to. It is even represented as an appeal
to the ignorance of mankind ; for, undoubtedly, the
vulgar might declare that they were " conscious" and
' ' certain intuitively," of some things which science
has disproved ; as, for instance, of the Sun's moving
round the Earth. To which I reply — That the " con
sciousness," for which I contend, is such as the edu
cated and the uneducated alike possess. If the most
refined and enlightened specimen of all our Species
could be brought before me, I would put the above
questions to him, and wait confidently for his answer.
It may be truly said, then, that a man believes
himself to be a " Free Agent " because he is so.
He knows that he is so, because it is declared by a
voice within him; he has an inward "Law" or
" Light of Nature " — (which may be called by various
names — as conscience, " consciousness," or perhaps
most properly— the Highest Reason, as it directly
perceives the " Truths of Reason") — he cannot tell
how he came by it ; but, throughout life, he trusts to
it implicitly. No deductions of the Understanding1
can possibly overthrow a " Truth of Reason," whe
ther it be a particular and relative, or a universal and
absolute Truth. No chain of Syllogisms can lead to
a Conclusion as certain as any fact of which a man
is conscious. Thus, " It is barely possible," says
Lord Brougham,2 " that Matter has no existence ;
but that Mind— that the Sentient Principle the
thing or being which we call ' I ' and ' We,' and
1 That is, as I remarked before —'¦* The faculty which judges
according to sense."
Discourse of Natural Theology, p. 51.

90 THE DISSERTATION.
which thinks, feels and reasons, should have no
existence, is a contradiction in terms." And why ?
Because we feel it — we know it — we are "conscious"
of it. We cannot go beyond this.
It would be fortunate for Philosophy if its profes
sors would remember that their business is to discover
the Ultimate Facts of Mind and Nature. Nothing is
more unreasonable, than to demand proof of any such
ultimate Facts. The attempt, for instance, to prove
our own existence, must commence by an assumption
of that Fact. For, every one who proves, reasons ;
and a reasoner is a thinker and a Thinker who has
" no existence," is a plain " Contradiction in terms.'
The fact of Free- Agency may be decided in the same
way as the Fact of Existence : every man will affirm
it for himself: and, I repeat, that that knowledge of
which all men (and not any particular men) declare
themselves " conscious," is more certain than that
which rests upon evidence, testimony, or proof, of
any kind.
But so deeply rooted has the notion become, in
many minds, that the fact of Free Agency is opposed
to the fact of Causation, that they may only remain
half persuaded of the Truth, after all that has been
said, unless I take pains to expose, in detail, that
perverted Ingenuity which has so long employed
itself, in setting these facts at variance.
In one of the notes to the " Aids to Reflection,"1
Coleridge has some remarks which prove, unless I
greatly err, that he entertained, to a great extent, the
doctrine of Causation as it has been laid down by us.
1 See p. 257.

THE DISSERTATION. 91
His subject led him more particularly to discourse of
the Will of man, but I think that he would not have
objected to the extension of the principle, there
admitted, to the whole Mind. He observes, that
" As we know what life is, by Being — so we know
what Will is, by Acting " — which statement corre
sponds, exactly, with what has been asserted by us
concerning " Consciousness."
In further explaining what he means by " originat
ing an Act," he affirms that a " Finite Will consti
tutes a true beginning.'' This sentiment, if fully
followed out, would lead to the General Doctrine of
Causation which has been here advanced. The
same remarks which are applicable to Will, may be
extended to Memory or any other of what are
called powers or " faculties " of the Mind. This will
appear more plainly, if we reflect that all such terms
as Will, Memory, Judgment, &c, are mere abstrac
tions ; and every Abstraction, as we before observed,
is a fiction of the Mind — an Imaginary Creation from
facts. Thus; I think — therefore, it is said, I possess
" thought." I remember — therefore, it is said, I have
" Memory." I will, and judge — therefore, I am said
to have a " Will" and " Judgment." But it would
be absurd to suppose that " Will,'' " Judgment," &c,
are distinct parts of the Mind, as the hand and the
foot are distinct parts of the body.1 The sense which
every man has that he is one Being— a Unity —
ought to be an effectual safeguard against the decep-
1 But no one whose attention has not been drawn to the subject
can be aware how greatly this supposition pervades, practically,
almost all metaphysical writings.

92 THE DISSERTATION.
tion which miglit arise from these abstract ideas.
Yet it is a general, though erroneous, way of thinking
and speaking,1 to regard what are called the " Human
Faculties," as distinct entities, which, taken alto
gether, make up one intelligent Being.
If there be any truth in these remarks — if it be
true, that my " Will " is no more than a personifica
tion of a particular Action of my Mind ; and that it
has no more distinct Existence, than the Action of
perceiving (which is called " Perception ") or any
other of my Actions ; then it follows, that it is mere
sophistry to treat this Personification — this abstract
idea — as if it were a real Agent. Hence, to talk of
the " Will " necessarily obeying the dictates of the
judgment, is perhaps as absurd a piece of Logomachy
as could be found in Metaphysics. It represents one
abstraction as operating upon another abstraction !
And even this imaginary representation is only got
up, to obviate the necessity of some third abstraction !
for, if it had not been to oppose " free-will," I doubt
much whether we should ever have heard of u Will
bowing to the dictates of Judgment !"
I would fain persuade every man to undertake the
examination of one of these Abstract Ideas, for his
own satisfaction ; for they are the source of almost all
sophisms in this branch of mental science. I ask any
one to reflect whether this sentence, " I have a Me
mory," means any thing more than this, " I Remem
ber ?" For myself, I feel as truly conscious, that an
act of Memory is really my act, as that any act can
1 See, as an instance, J. Edwards's Definition of Will, &c.

the dissertation. 93
possibly be mine. I feel that there is no more reason
for believing my mind to be made up of distinct
entities or attributes or faculties, than that my foot is
made up of walking and running. My Mind, I
firmly believe, thinks, and wills, and remembers, just
as simply as my body walks, and runs, and rests : in
what is called the " process of Memory," I observe
that T call up my thoughts, and actions, and circum- j
stances, long since past, and arrange and contemplate \
them. I can do this, and frequently, indeed, the *
more perfectly, when I close my eyes and shut out
all sensible objects : and, on the other hand, I may
frequently borrow assistance from some sensible
object or occasion, between which and the subject of
my thoughts there may be some natural (i. e. general)
connexion, or some arbitrary one which I myself
created. Now, what is most plain to me in this
whole process is, that it is i myself who do it all.
In so doing, I am doubtless subservient to the laws
of nature, which, when I have arrived at a certain
limit, impede my acting. But this is only a neces
sary condition of my power and agency being finite,
and is, of itself, sufficient to prove that I am, within
certain limits a Free-Agent. A man who, in running,
* dashed his head against a wall, would not be apt to
conclude, that therefore he had no power to run !
In a word, whatever fact, or argument, proves me
to be an ': Agent" at all, proves me to be Free ; for,
the very phrase " Free-Agency " is a pleonasm.
As a final illustration of this subject, let some
simple case be proposed. A stranger asks me to tell
him the way to some place. I probably pause and

94 the dissertation.
reflect, for it is not familiar to me. But by trying to
remember, I at length succeed. It is impossible to
analyse that simple operation of mind by which I do
it. I remember both the place and the way to it. By
a most mysterious power within me, I travel in
thought, with lightning rapidity, through roads,
streets and lanes. All are, as it were, present to my
mind. But there are no sensible occasions to assist
me, except the name of the place pronounced by the
stranger ; and that could only be an occasion of this
mental process, so far as I. determined it to be so ;
for I might have passed on without noticing it. It
is, indeed, a fact, that I have been in the place
before — and that fact is called " Experience " : but
the fact that I can recall, remember, that experience,
is still unexplained. It is, indeed, a fact, that I
previously had been acquainted with the relative
position of the streets leading to the place in ques
tion, and with the names assigned to them ; and
between them and some of my thoughts, there might
be some sort of connexion : — so that, after remember
ing one thing, I proceeded to remember another;
and this fact is called, " Suggestion " : but this does
not explain how and why it is, that one thought is
followed, or (as it is improperly said) " Suggested,"'
by another. It is, therefore, mere trifling to say,
that " Experience" or a law of "Suggestion,"1 are
any explanation of the fact that " I remember." They
are themselves facts which require explaining : they
are a part of the very phenomenon which we are ex
ploring. 1 According to Dr. Brown.

the dissertation. 95
There is a simplicity in truth, and to my mind it
seems best to agree with that simplicity, to attribute
every mental process to the active nature of the one
agent — Man ; and this will, indeed, seem but reason
able to any one who reflects on the nature of any
agent ; for a Being endowed with power, would not
be, in any rational sense of the word, " an Agent,"
if it could only act in one way ; it would be a kind of
machine. Hence, I find it necessary to attribute a
variety of mental processes to one agent.
But to resume ; — I have said, that in the case of
the stranger asking of me the way to a certain place,
I at length remembered the place and the way, dis
tinctly. This supposes that I possessed that wonder
ful power, of recalling the facts in question, in full
perfection. But this is only one supposition out of
many which might be made. It might have hap
pened that I only remembered a part of the facts, and
a part of my past experiences. Yet, be it observed,
that to the fullest extent of my possession of power,
it is I myself who operate. Again ; — Instead of
costing me any effort, the act of remembering might
have followed as immediately on the pronunciation of
the name, as the reflection of an object in a mirror on
the presence of that object. In every case, being a
finite Agent, I can only act to the extent of my power,
and according to the laws of my being. But, to
proceed with our illustration : — -Having originated
and perfected, to the best of my ability, art Act of
Memory, I have next to originate an Act of Will.
And this, perhaps, is even more completely in my
power than the former. If I can speak a language

96 THE DISSERTATION.
intelligible to the stranger, I may inform him con-
cerningthe name of the place ; or I may not. Which
ever of the two actions I may decide on, the decision
must be attributed to myself alone.
But it might be said, according to some philoso
phers, — 'You must have a motive for deciding in
the one way or in the other ;' and to that motive the
decision must be attributed as its Cause. Of all
the abstract ideas that have imposed on mankind this
which is signified by the word " Motive," has been
the most mischievous.1 This pestilent abstraction,
which has found favor even with our best writers, is
also the ready tool of every half-witted Sceptic who,
in set phrases which occupy the place of ideas, con
troverts the plainest truths of common sense. Men
are constantly said " to obey the strongest motive,"
to be " governed by motives" — " influenced by
motives," &c. Now surely it would be well to know
what sort of things these motives are ; and I suspect
that whoever will take the pains to examine them
will find them to be a shadowy set of impostors
which pretend to take the place of Intelligent Causes.
The motive of a man is, if I mistake not, that which
moves him to act in a certain way : if it does not
mean this, the word is most ambiguous, and liable
to mislead. If it does not pretend to be the Origin
of the Act, it is mere Sophistry to speak of it as the
" Motive ;" but, since we have before established, by
Proposition I, that an Intelligence is the only Cause
of Action, there is a flagrant inconsistency in admit-
1 It were invidious to refer to particular writers. I prefer, almost,
to say — vide Metaphysical authors, passim.

THE DISSERTATION. 97
ting that anything else, which may go by the false
name of Motive, is, in any correct sense, a Cause.
From this we argue, that sensible objects (facts, or
circumstances, or intellectual or moral reasons) have
no more right to be called Motives, or Movers of
Action, than they have to be called " Causes." Yet
as there must, of necessity, be a life-spring, a begin
ning of Action or Motion, somewhere, ( according
to our axiom) we think it more reasonable to
impute it to the Living Agent, than to that which is
non-intelligent — whether it belong to the class of
Facts, or Reasons, or lifeless Abstractions. I think
that the honest enquirer into truth and nature will
find an absurdity in supposing, that intelligent beings
are passive, and that the only active beings, or princi
ples, in all nature, are non-intelligent and lifeless ! —
however much such a notion may suit others, who
would build up a theory of their own, to disprove
the very faculties which they exercise.
Whenever, therefore, any one shall say to us,
' You have a Motive for your conduct,' in any matter ;
we may reply, each for himself — ' If, by motive, you
mean, that which moves to an action, I am myself
my own motive — the cause of my own actions.'
Such is our whole conclusion, concerning Moral
Causation. In arguing thus for Free-Agency, we
have proceeded synthetically (aVo ruv apx™) from the
principles of Causation, previously laid down in the
three Propositions ; as, at first, in arguing to those
principles, we proceeded analytically, from the facts of
Nature and Human Consciousness. — (See Postulate
p. 46, and Axiom p. 73.) H

98

SECTION III.
Of Final Causes according to the Ancients.
Before we proceed to demonstrate the true
doctrine of Final Causes, and other consequent
truths, from our present data, it will be necessary to
examine the doctrine of the ancients, on this subject ;
as it is essentially different from the modern doctrine
which bears the same name.
It has been remarked, by many, that there is some
thing inconsistent, if not suicidal, in the phrase
" Final Cause," and it must be acknowledged that
there is, indeed, a prima, facie obliquity in it ; and
I suppose that, after what has been thus far proved,
few persons will think the expression a happy one.
It may readily be admitted, that more appropriate
phrases might be found (as for instance Final Reason
— or Ultimate Intention — which more nearly express
the idea) but I would not omit this opportunity of
enforcing, that there is not more impropriety in the
phrase " Final Cause," than in " Instrumental
Cause," " Secondary Cause," and all such forms of
speech. How much so ever custom sanctions them,
and obliges us sometimes to use them, they are all
erroneous. The doctrine of the ancients, on this subject, de
serves our attention, not simply for the sake of its
importance to this discussion, but because it may

the dissertation.

99

be considered as affording a fair sample of the
Scrutinizing character, and deeply thoughtful spirit,
of that old philosophy, which some imagine to be
nothing but a mass of exploded error.
The last of the four kinds of Causes before enume
rated (p. 57)— (termed Final Causes) we have said to
be synonymous with " The end or purpose which
anything answers" (see p. 58.) Thus, if I state ; That
the crystalline humour of the eye of the fish is
adapted to the dense medium through which rays of
light pass to it — 1 state a fact, and, (according to the
ancients) the " Final Cause " of it. The doctrine of '
the ancients was not an immediate deduction from
the Law of Efficient Causation, as the modern doctrine
is said to be. It was simply an abstract statement
concerning certain facts of nature. They believed
it to be man's duty to conform to nature, and they
therefore inquired into the facts of nature. But
they were not in the habit of drawing any farther
theoretical inferences. The moderns, on the con
trary, build up a doctrine, wholly on inferences. The
ancients argued to nature, and then they stopped.
The moderns there take it up, and argue from nature
to something beyond it.1 Now it is evident from
the fundamental propositions, established in Part I,
that a " Final Cause " has, in reality, nothing causal
in it. An inquiry into Final Causes, therefore, in
the old philosophy had nothing in common2 with
1 See Part II of this Dissertation. Sect. I.
2 Xenophon. Mem. I. 4. may by some be thought an exception
to this statement ; though the God, [or Gods,] for whom he argues,
appears shortly afterwards to be a mere anima mundi !
H 2

100 the dissertation.
the argument from Effect to Cause. It was an
examination into the Tendencies of things, which
might be gathered from the facts of adaptation and
" fitness ;" <A)— (See Prop. III.)
As a plain instance, we may take that of Aristotle
at the opening of the treatise on Politics. The
mutual adaptation of the sexes to one another, is the
first of a series of inductions, from whicli he argues
' that the tendency of man's nature is to society.' He
observes that in all discussions it is necessary to
begin " with an assumption of something" (see p. 1 12.)
And Aristotle's assumption, on which all his specu
lations rest, is, " That Nature does nothing in vain."
Assuming this, he proceeds to investigate the reasons
of certain dispositions observable in nature; and this
investigation is, with him, a process of strict analysis.
And if his assumption be fair (which few will deny)
his reasoning from it is perfectly just ; for if there be
a reason why every thing is as it is and in no
other way, an examination of things may be one
<« Which facts, of course, even Epicurus admitted; he only denied
the Inference from them. His argument was, That before the
existence of the eye, for instance, it could not be known what sight
was ; — therefore it could not be said that the eye was made for
seeing. All sight, and consequently all knowledge of sight, must
be subsequent to the eye. Which argument can only be overthrown
by showing, on other, and quite independent, grounds, that there
existed previously a Being of infinite knowledge and skill. It is
clearly a very different thing to say — Certain things are well adapted
to certain uses; and to say — Certain things were " created for" certain
uses. This latter sentence implies a Creator and a Designer, who
must first be acknowledged. — See the second part of this Dissert.
§ I. Those who dispute the law of Causation, and the Christian
Revelation, are bound to agree with Epicurus.

the dissertation. 101
means of discovering that reason ; which will be the
" Final Cause."
To this subject Plato refers, in a passage before
alluded to,1 where he not only complains of Anaxa-
goras for failing to inquire into first Causes but
also into final Causes — not merely the origin, but
the reason and necessity of things. He says
that he expected his new master 2 " iTTixStvyrnna-Qai mv
Alrnxv, x«« rw Avocyxriv, Keyovra. ro 'A^nvov. xai on uurw
[r?ii<] du.ai/ov iv Toiaumv linasi' x«i u iv f/.£<ru tpcxtn itvca
sivrtiv, iTriY.§wyy\<T£<r§a,i us 'Ajufmov %v ocvrnv iv puru Imai* xxt
li jt*0» TUVrOL ollTOtpXUIOtTO, Tttt,pi<SXlVOt.<Tfl.W US 8>C£T» 7To9£(TOfA£VOf
amaf ccXXo ziSoc.
We can only hope to arrive at this " Reason of
things " in a very partial degree, and that only by
a patient induction of particulars. By the light of
nature, we can never gain such a knowledge of it as
shall be of use in Theology. Thus we find, that the
strict doctrine of Final Causes among the Ancients
was, at the best, only a Moral, and never a Theo
logical Doctrine.3 Nevertheless we may perceive
some slight shades of difference between the Doctrine
of Final Causes to be gathered from some scattered
pages in the writings of Plato, and that of his illus-
1 Phffdo, p. 206 Ed. Lond. 1825.
2 According to Aristotle, Anaxagoras seemed to agree with
Epicurus in this matter, and rejected Final Causes. (See Creech's
Lucretius, p. 378). This opinion is attacked by Lactantius " De
Opificio Dei." c. 6.
3 Sumner's Records of Creation V. I. p. 249 quotes the only
passage, I think, contrary to this ;— and even this .is hardly de
cisive. — See Note p. 99.

102 the dissertation.
trious scholar. The metaphysical system of Aristotle
exercised a considerable influence even on his Ethics.
The same principle, perhaps, which taught him to
disregard the inquiries of Plato concerning the
Supreme Good, directed his moral researches into a
practical channel. He cared little about examining
the Metaphysical Ion the Practical on was his chief
care. The chapter, which we before alluded to, on
"Voluntary Action" may be pointed out as a
specimen of his common - sense way of treating
Metaphysical subjects.
It is possible that there may be a Final Cause of
(or a wise purpose to be answered by) every particular
thing, or character of a thing, in Nature. Thus for
instance, the Final Cause of " fear," in any animal,
may be self-preservation ; of which species of Final
Causes Lord Kames has largely treated, in his
" Elements of Criticism." But the discovery of
General (or perhaps Universal) Final Causes, will
alone lead to any important result.
Perhaps there is not extant, a general inquiry
into Final Causes so perfect, in all respects, as the
Ethics to Nicomachus ; ' and I mention it, in order
more fully to illustrate the nature of such an In
quiry. With the most admirable skill and judgment,
Aristotle passes by all subtle distinctions and Con
troversies :— he has to do with facts ; he is selecting
the Phenomena. His masterly system of Morality
stands on the simple, yet ample, base of those facts
1 The Ethics to Eudemus, and the Magna Moralia seem little
more than the outlines of this Treatise. The latter of these is not,
I believe, now considered to be Aristotle's.

THE DISSERTATION. 103
of Human Life and Conduct, with which Experience
had furnished him. These he regarded as suffi
cient data: he could not believe with the Fatalist,
that Nature was a mass of Deception, from first
to last.
He sets out, in this Treatise, by remarking that
every art and system among men seems to have some
aim and tendency. He does not attempt to prove
this ; he supposes that no one will dispute that, " it
seems" — it appears, to be so, — Soxn. He states it as
a phenomenon : it is not his business to account for
it. He concludes, that a fact so universal, has a
foundation in nature and truth. Man is but a part of
a Mighty whole ; if the parts severally answer a pur
pose — tend to some end — so, if we could discover
the appetency, the main tendency of the whole, we
should have a clear apprehension of the chief good,
i, e. (to use a kind of pleonasm) — the ultimate end,
a -rrocvroi lateral. The ability with which this idea is
worked out, is no less remarkable than the idea itself.
From a nominal definition of this chief end of Man —
" Happiness" — he advances to a real and critical
one — which he compares with the opinions of Philo
sophers and of the common world. His next step is,
to see whether the Phenomena of human life — and
human morals, are in harmony with his definition.
By the most perfect chain of moral induction that the
history of the world has produced — by the most
skilful and practical examination of human conduct,
in its intricate minutiae, (betraying a deep knowledge
of the human heart and unparalleled powers of ana
lysis), Aristotle deduced a Code of Morals, in perfect

104 THE DISSERTATION.
harmony with that General Intention, Appetency, or
Tendency of Nature, which he pronounced to be the
Law of Morality to Man.1
His Metaphysical System seems to have led him to
consider Man in his social rather than his individual
character ; hence he treats Ethics as a branch of
Political Science. This has been sometimes, but I
think erroneously, considered as in opposition to the
Christian System ; which, it is said, treats with man
in his individual character. But, it may be remem
bered, that Christianity also expressly declares, that
we are " many members in one body ;" and more of
" false doctrine, heresy and schism" have resulted
from the individualizing of Christianity, in these
times, (making individuals everything and the Church
nothing) than is ordinarily imagined. I do not, there
fore, see the least opposition between Aristotle and
the Christian System, in this particular ; and how
singularly his whole moral conclusions coincide with
the pure code of Christianity, has been the remark
and astonishment of all his readers. The difference
lies in this ; Aristotle did not recognize, as Christians
do, a Moral Governor of the World. Critics have
taxed their ingenuity, to the utmost, to find passages
which, by some forced construction, or by their uncer
tain character, may uphold a contrary opinion : —
but it is all in vain. Throughout his long and elabo
rate Treatises on Morals, I can find not one plain
acknowledgment of a Moral Governor. And, indeed,
the nature of his argument (which was to Final
Causes, and not from them) — does not require it ;
1 See note C.

THE DISSERTATION. 105
and if Mr. Boyle had considered this, he would not,
I think, so unfairly have charged him with " shifting
off this whole Question."1
A " Final Cause" of any thing, that is to say, the
Intention of it, must, indeed, be considered by us, as
an Effect resulting from an intelligent Cause ; (in
consequence of the doctrine which we have laid
down); for since it belongs not to the Class of Intelli
gent Beings, or " Causes," it must belong to the
Class of the Non-Intelligent, or " Effects." But this
formed no part of the Speculation of the Ancients on
the Subject. They treated of a Final Cause as a
positive and not as a relative Fact.
The modern writer who has most successfully
adopted the manner of Aristotle, and applied his
doctrine of Final Causes, is Bishop Butler. To
select from the writings of such an author as Butler,
would be an arduous task. I cannot, therefore, do
better than take, as a specimen, the first Sermon.2
It is, as an Argument to Final Causes, perfect ; nor
can it indeed be expressed in fewer or better words
than his own. His proposition is this : —
" From a review and comparison of the nature of
man, as respecting self and as respecting society, it
will plainly appear, that there are as real and the
same kind of, indications in Human Nature, that we
were made for Society, and to do good to our fellow
Creatures ; as that we were intended to take care of
1 See Boyle's Disquisition.
2 Butler's Sermons are, perhaps, the best foundation for a system
of Moral Philosophy in our language, and are used as such in one
University, Oxford.

106 THE DISSERTATION.
our own life and health and private good ; and that
the same objections lie against one of these assertions
as against the other."
This statement is founded on the pure ancient
doctrine of Final Causes. He endeavours to sub
stantiate it, in the plainest manner. He enume
rates the facts of the case ; (in the language of
Aristotle " ti9«? t« <pxivopcw") — and, from the princi
ple of Benevolence in man — from his Reflective
Power, Reason, and Conscience — he, at length,
draws his powerful conclusions ; first, of the tendency
of Man's Nature ; and secondly, of the obvious duty
founded thereon. — It would, 1 think, be a strangely
constructed mind which would not be convinced
by him.
To conclude, summarily — The ancient doctrine of
Final Causes was founded, as we have seen, on a
simple inquiry into the Ultimate tendencies of things.
The whole process was an examination of facts, and a
statement of the result. It was, in the strictest sense
of the words, a scientific doctrine. It admitted of
proof, in the same manner as any Physical truths
admit of it — A ball on an inclined plane has a ten-
dencyto roll down. — Man, in every gradation of savage
or civilized life, has a tendency to Society. — The facts
are before our eyes ; we cannot dispute them.
The modern doctrine of Final Causes, which we
shall next proceed to examine at greater length, is of
a very different character. Instead of being an
argument of an inductive kind, it is wholly hypothe
tical. This is evident, for instance, from the circum
stance that, on the one hand, the modern " Argument

THE DISSERTATION. 107
from Final Causes," to establish the Being of God,
does not convince every one; while on the other, the
ancient " Argument to Final Causes " discovered
the plain tendency of Nature, and convinced all. The
Modern Argument being built on the hypothesis —
That from the adaptations and tendencies of things,
we may argue to their First Great Cause — maybe
disputed by every sceptic ; and may, as an argument,
be tnsatisfactory even to the believer. While the
ancient argument, being a process of pure Induction,
cannot be disputed without denying the facts. The
former is intended to conduct us to the Beginning
— the latter, to the End of things.

PART II.
OF THE ARGUMENTS FROM CAUSATION.

" That a love of Truth for its own sake, and merely as Truth, is
possible, my soul bears witness to itself in its inmost recesses."
Coleridge.

SECTION I.
OF THE THEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT FROM
" FTNAL CAUSES."
I would direct especial attention to the subject on
which we are now entering. The science of finding
fault is, perhaps, of all sciences the easiest to learn,
and the most suited to the spirit and education of
our times ; yet if a man be thoroughly persuaded of
the existence and prevalence of an error, I cannot
but think it his duty to incur the odium of finding
fault with it, however popular it may be. As, how
ever, nothing might be more easily misrepresented,
and misunderstood, than the drift of our present
argument, I will endeavour, by one or two explana
tory remarks, to make an explicit preface, before I
immediately proceed to the object before me.

110 THE DISSERTATION.
I have already, to a certain extent, defined the
modern doctrine of Final Causes, by distinguishing
it from the ancient. The old Philosophy argued to
Final Causes — the modern from them to something
beyond them. So that the modern Argument appears
to be (what the ancient was not) an Inference from
an Effect to a Cause. As we are bound, therefore,
by Proposition II. to allow the validity of every sound
argument from Effect to Cause, the only question is
-^-whether this be a sound one 1
I suppose that I cannot refer to a more unexcep
tionable authority than Dr. Paley, for a statement of
that, which is assumed to be a correct a. posteriori
argument — That from the wonder-works of Nature
we may, by natural reasoning, arrive at the conclusion,
that God is the Author of all. In the second chapter
of his Natural Theology, confessedly a popular
treatise, Paley thus writes :• — " There cannot he
design without a designer — contrivance without a
contriver — order without choice, &c.'' At the end of
the 25th chapter he adds — " That designer must have
been a person — That person God."
This is the Argument from Final Causes ; or, as it
is not unfrequently called, " Paley 's argument from
Design." As to the Conclusion of this Argument, no
Christian can have a moment's doubt. 1 affirm, how
ever, if it be needful, in the distinctest manner, my
belief, that there is design in Nature, and that God is
the Author of it. The question with me is — ^Could
this conclusion have been arrived at by the natural
faculties of man ? Is there such a force, in what are
called the "Evidences of Design," as to compel a fair

THE DISSERTATION. Ill
reasoner to acquiesce in the being of a God on
Natural Principles ? I firmly believe, and shall
endeavour to prove, that there is not.
In 'weighing the value of any argument, we have
nothing to do with the truth of the Conclusion. It is
certain, that very bad arguments might be employed,
in defence of the most evident Truth. Those who
are greedy of conviction may accept of any thing in
the shape of proof; and so, likewise, may those who
habitually receive (if I may be pardoned for so
applying the phrase) the " dictum de omni et nullo"
of their teachers. But the correct Reasoner will con- i
sider, whether the conclusion may really be inferred/
from the premises ? Nor will he forget, that therej
are some Truths, which can be inferred from no pre- 1
mises at all; but must, being Truths of the highest!
Intellect, be known by Intuition, or by Revelation. I
Of which I shall discourse hereafter.
We have said that the " Argument from Design"
professes to be a legitimate a posteriori argument,
from Effect to Cause ; and that the chief question is,
Whether, as such, it be a sound one? To place which
matter in the clearest light, I shall point out the
difference between sound and unsound arguments.
It was observed by Hume, that since the words
Effect and Cause are " relative" terms, it is impos
sible to argue from one to the other, without being
guilty of petitio principii — a " begging the ques
tion." For, as he well says, if we begin by assuming
that any thing is, in the strict sense of the word,
an Effect, it follows, as matter of course, that it had a
Cause. From which it might at first sight appear,

112 THE DISSERTATION.
that this fault must not only be attributed to the
Argument from Design ; but to every argument from
Effect to Cause. But an attentive observation will
convince us, that in this, as in other remarks of
Hume, there is a mixture of truth and falsehood.
It behoves us to remember, that the premises of
every correct argument must, in a certain sense,
assume the whole of the conclusion at least ; and not
unfrequently something more. A very little reflection
will convince any one of this. For it is, as it were,
the very first law of reasoning, that in our conclusions
we must not state one iota more than was admitted
in the premises. Thus ; we could not convict a
reasoner of a grosser fallacy, than that of stating
something in his conclusion, which was not either
expressed or implied in the premises. Are we then
to conclude, that all argument is impossible, or
absurd ? — and that in every case in which we reason,
we are, in consequence of the " assumption" neces
sarily made, guilty of a plain sophism, and " beg
the whole question ?"
This might, perhaps, fairly follow on Mr. Hume's
principles ; but a little consideration will extricate us
from the apparent dilemma.
It is evident, that some things are more clearly
known to us than others ; and, in the same manner,
some modes of things are more intelligible than
others. Now, Argument is an explanation of that
which is doubtful, by that which is known. Whoever
will examine any correct argument, on any subject,
by reducing it into its syllogistic form ; (and every
argument may be so reduced) or, by whatever other

THE DISSERTATION. 113
means he may find most easy to himself, will in
fallibly discover, either first, That the premises are
nothing but a simpler and commoner statement, of the
Truth announced in the conclusion ; or 2ndly, That
they are a mere analytical statement of it ; or 3dly, That
they are a synthetical, (or, more properly perhaps, a
Generalized) statement ; from which, of course, a par
ticular Truth may be inferred as the Conclusion. This
assertion, concerning the nature of all arguments,
I thus leave, without thinking it necessary to bring
proof of what every one may easily discover for him
self. This sentence, then, is a synopsis of practical
Logic. The premises of an Argument must contain
the Conclusion fairly, and by implication ; but not
formally : — hence, we cannot argue from particulars
to universals, nor from negatives to affirmatives.
But every one's experience has convinced him,
that premises may be unfairly assumed. Now, a
fair assumption must be of such a kind as an
opponent cannot refuse to allow. If any Truth be of
an intricate nature— if it be not indeed self-evident or
previously established — a strict opponent may refuse
to allow it. Whoever, therefore, in order to justify
his conclusion, makes such an assumption, in his
premises, as his opponent may fairly refuse to allow,
(on the ground, that it is neither self-evident, nor
admitted as proved,) is guilty of the fallacy of
" begging the question," or Petitio Principii.1
Hence, then, I would state this plain Corollary; That
1 See the application of these remarks, to Clarke's a priori Demon
stration of the Being of God.

114 THE DISSERTATION.
it is not lawful, in proving any proposition containing
a relative term, gratuitously to assume the correlative
in the premises.1
Now, the words Cause and Effect are evidently
relative terms. In arguing to a Cause, therefore, it
is not lawful to assume the correlative " effect," as
such ; (that would be a petitio principii). We must
assume only what is self-evident, or previously estab
lished. From all which, any one may see, how neces
sary it was to go into the investigation of the Nature
of a Cause and an Effect, and of first principles in
general, in the manner and to the extent which occu
pied the first part of this Dissertation. Therefore,
let that part of our argument be now borne in mind
(see p. 73), in which we established that — " What
ever begins to be must have a Cause ;" as I am not
arguing here with those who would dispute that
1 A simple instance (and the simpler the better) will illustrate
this : — The words " Father and Son" are relative terms : the one
implies the other. There never, strictly speaking, was a Father who
never had a Son, and vice versa. Let us now suppose some one to
dispute, whether Julius Caesar ever had a Father ? With such an one
it would be vain to argue, that he was the Son of somebody ; and
every Son implies a Father ; and therefore he had a Father : for, if
it were denied that he had a Father, of course it would also he
denied that he was a Son. They are relative terms. If the one of
two relative terms be not self-evident or admitted, the other cannot
be. The utmost that I could expect such a sceptic to admit, would
be, that (according to the course of Nature) every Man has had a
Father ; if he disputes this, I cannot argue with him. If he allows
it, I have only to bring evidence, that Julius Ceesar was a Man (and
not a Demigod or Beast,) and then, I m infer that, He had a
Father.

THE DISSERTATION.

115

axiom. In the next place, let us see the application
of our principles, to the first argument of Theology,
viz,, that for the Being of a God.
At every returning Spring-time we see the young
buds and leaves of the garden and the forest burst
forth, and " begin to be." They are not the old
leaves revived - though, if they were, our argument
would not be less strong. In this case the argument
for a Cause may be thus stated (and let it be con
stantly remembered that by the word Cause i's. meant
an Intelligence) : — /*
" Whatever begins to be1 has a Cause."
Certain objects in Nature " begin to be ;"
Therefore — They have a Cause.
Now, this Argument (though of but little use to
the Natural Theologian) — yet, to the full extent to
which it goes, is a fair and unanswerable a. posteriori
Argument : there is no petitio principii. There is an
assumption, indeed ; and there must be one in every
correct argument. But the first premiss is an as
sumption previously established ; and the second is
an assumption of what is a self-evident fact, which
every man's eyes may convince him of.
But let us now see the nature of the assumption in
the celebrated " Argument from Design ;" as that
will decide, whether it is a fair inference from Effect
to Cause.
The sentences of Paley, before quoted, contain the
' " Begin to be " — uot necessarily in the strict sense, of Creation
from Nothing — but, of altering what exists : just as the accelerated
motion is said to " begin to be." See p. 71.
i2

1

116 THE DISSERTATION.
substance of his whole volume : " There cannot be
Design without a Designer" — " That Designer is
God." Now, I must beg, that this maybe examined,
simply, as an argument. I repeat, that I am as sure
as any one can be, of the Truth of the Assertions, that
there is Design in Nature ; and that God is the
Author of it. But I dispute the validity of this
Argument.
It requires but little attention to perceive, that the
words Design and Designer are " relative terms,"
and must we not, therefore, at once suspect Paley's
Argument to be a mere assumption — a bare-faced
petitio principii ? To state that " Design implies a
Designer," is a manifest truism. Who ever doubted
it ? But can the Natural Theologian, on Natural
grounds, certainly prove that there is Design ? We
may safely defy him to the trial. Let him look abroad
into nature ; he will find thousands of facts which
demonstrate undeniably the mutual " adaptation" and
" fitness" of various things to one another : but few
persons will be apt to allow, that " adaptation'' and
" design" are synonymous words. No man, I sup
pose, requires it to be proved elaborately, that he may
find many things very well adapted to himself, or any
other object, which were not designed for him or it.
In the case of a very exquisite degree of adapta
tion, design becomes probable ; and I do not in this
place use that word technically, or philosophically,
but in its ordinary sense ; but even then, the degree
of its probability may be fairly open to dispute ; and
there may be such counter-probabilities to balance
against it, as may wholly destroy the force of the

THE DISSERTATION. 117
original presumption. If, then, Design has not been
certainly proved, it is an unfair presumption ; and if
it be called self-evident, then there is no argument in
the case ; for Design and Designer are relative terms.
To argue from one to the other is as absurd, as if i
from imagining a Circle, a man should argue the j
possibility of a Centre or a Circumference! Of two
relative terms, the one can never be made a position
from which to proceed to the other.
No one, who at all reflects on the meaning of the
words, will long dispute the assertion, that an Argu
ment from Design can, at the best, only furnish a
probable conclusion ; therefore, it is not a fair argu
ment from the Law of Causation laid down in Pro
position I. and II. Even the probability of any such
conclusion will vary, in exact ratio, with the positive
knowledge which the Arguer has of the Designer ;
and his capacity for comprehending his character.
It is not difficult to see, in what predicament this
consideration places our Natural Theologians !
The advocates of " Design" seem to have been
fully aware, that a probable Conclusion was all that
they could draw. Hence, with a very natural eager
ness, they heap up fact upon fact, thinking thereby to
increase the force of their premises, and conse
quently augment the probability of their Conclusions, j
Whereas, they could not but be aware, that one really j
substantiated fact of design would be as good as ten |
thousand ; because perfectly irrefutable. If any such !
valuable fact be found — Why is it not forth-coming ? ;
This constant appeal to facts of fitness, can, of itself,
prove nothing certainly. To one who believes in j

118 THE DISSERTATION.
,' God, on other grounds, these facts are invaluable.
' The Christian rejoices in believing, that these facts of
fitness, or adaptation, all result from the design of his
Gracious God ; the Natural Theologian has first to
prove his God. He may then admit design in
Nature ; but not till then.
The circumstance, therefore, that Natural Theolo
gians are ever zealously hunting through Nature, and
exploring every recess and corner, for facts to substan
tiate their conclusion, is perfectly intelligible, when
we remember, that the only facts, yet adduced, are
facts of fitness ; and the greater the accumulation of
such facts, the stronger, of course, becomes the prob
ability of Design. Of which probability, however,
we must ever, naturally, remain but very inadequate
judges. Indeed, I go so far as to believe, that it is
almost an impossibility in the nature of things, that
Design should ever be certainly known (however
acutely it may be guessed at) unless the Designer
f himself revealed it. An " Argument from design"
\depends upon an a priori assumption of a knowledge
/of the character and mind of the Designer. Every
one must have seen what ridiculous mistakes have
ensued, even among men, by some people sagaciously
imputing design to others, when nothing of the
sort was thought of. If then, inhuman affairs, the
" Argument from Design" would lead to an erroneous
conclusion, unless the Arguer and the Designer have
considerable mutual knowledge and intercourse, I
need hardly attempt to shew how greatly the uncer
tainty or error, in such an argument, would be in
creased, when the Almighty Designer of this mag-

THE DISSERTATION. 119
nificent Creation is the object of our reverent search !
It is an effort on the part of a " creature of a day,"
to trace out the Designs of the Eternal ! — to compre
hend the plans of the Incomprehensible !
The very utmost that can be allowed, even in
respect1 to human designs, is this — It is possible, and
in some cases perhaps probable, that a very judicious
observer, who has experience and knowledge to
assist him, may, from external indications, rightly
guess the internal design of an Agent ; especially if
he move not in a sphere of life very remote from
that Agent. But, even in this case, there would be
no certain knowledge ; and numberless instances, of
1 But, it may be said, — Although, in any supposed human case,
the design might be mistaken, yet we might be right in saying that
there was some Design ; and, if so, some Designer ; and this is all
that is required, as the first step in the Theological Argument. To
which I would reply; we might, indeed, be right, but we might
also be wrong. For it may, and frequently does, happen, that
Design is imputed where no Design whatever existed. He is a
fortunate man whose own experience will not furnish him with
many such instances ! The Case might, I imagine, be found, of a
man who has been a severe sufferer, and is surprised, at length, to
discover, that it is all owing to the metaphysical acuteness of his
friends, in tracing out Designs from appearances, and then casting
those Designs on him ; making him, as it were, the scape goat to
bear away the sins of their inductive logic !
It might seem superfluous to remind any one of the infinite
distance between God and man ; in comparison of which, men are
all on one level. Let those, however, who think by natural power
to penetrate the arcana of God's Designs, consider the foolish con
clusions of men even concerning men ! Query — What would the
Smuggler think of the Design of the Statesman in bidding contra
band goods to be seized ? What does the poor Manufacturer think
of the Legislator's Design in taxation ?

120 THE DISSERTATION.
course, could be adduced to show that he would
often arrive at false conclusions.
It seems, indeed, a very plain matter, which re
quires no great depth of reflection to ascertain. I
would ask, whether it be not true, that, in the strictest
sense of the words, Thought can only exist in a
Thinking Being ? It must exist somewhere, if it exist
at all ; and I am at a loss to conceive of its existing
in an ZTkthinking Being. Now a thinking being is a
subject, and consequently thought may be said to have
a subjective existence only. And the same is true
of every thing, which exists in a Mind. If a Thought
be embodied in words, written or oral, it has an ob
jective existence, i. e. it becomes a Sentence. But a
Sentence is not, strictly speaking, a Thought ; but
only the occasion of Thought, to Thinking Beings.
In like manner, Design is only so far forth Design,
as it exists in a Designing Mind. The word Design
is a mere abstract term ; the thing itself can no more
exist out of a Designing Mind, than a Thought can
exist without some one to think it. Design has only
a subjective existence, and therefore can only become
the object of human knowledge, when the Designer
himself reveals it, and so makes it objective.
Now if Design must necessarily exist in a Mind,
a fair and adequate judge of an Argument from De
sign must be a Being who can read Minds. " He
who searcheth the hearts and trieth the reins of the
Children of men" is the only adequate Judge of
human Designs ; — who then shall be a judge
of HIS ?
I should here take leave of this fallacious argu-

THE DISSERTATION. 121
ment ; but it may be observed, that thus far I have
dwelt on one part only of the statement made by
Paley, viz., that which speaks of " Design." He
continues thus ; — '< There cannot be contrivance
without a contriver — order without choice,'' &c.
I would observe, then, that the remarks which have
been made on the word Design, are equally appli
cable to this — " Contrivance ; " for Contrivance and
Contriver are " relative terms." I shall not, there
fore, enlarge on this expression ; but rather point
out how Paley's argument breaks under him, directly
he adopts an expression not strictly " relative." His
reasoning being a verbal sophism, he could not, for
a single line, leave the technical ambiguities in
which he had intrenched himself. No one will
call " order and choice " relative terms ; and no one,
who ponders the meaning of this sentence, will, I
think, implicitly yield assent to it. " There cannot
be order without choice ! " How so ? 1 Is this self
evident ?
I will not point to the order of basaltic pillars
(seeming at times to rival that of human architecture)
or to any other fact of physical nature. I prefer to
bring this, as well as every other matter, to every
1 Is it undeniable ? There is not one word offered in proof of
it. The learned Archdeacon seemed quite satisfied with " the fact,"
and did not even pause to affirm it twice ; but left it in its un
proved simplicity to astonish or convince the credulous. It would
interfere with a large mass of popular Metaphysics, and Theology,
if a book of " Assumptions " were published, consisting of compila
tions, from our popular authors, of affected reasonings, founded on
that fashionable and flowery figure of speech, called " Petitio
principii."

]22 THE DISSERTATION.
man's individual knowledge and experience ; and I
ask — Whether the "order'' of a man's actions, is
always the result of " choice " 1 — No ; — The truth
seems to be, that this proposition has been linked
to two or three evident Truisms, and has passed as
one itself !
In conclusion, — It is worthy of remark, and ought,
I think, to throw some suspicion on the whole Argu
ment of Paley, that the Infidel Deist, as I before
pointed out, defends it with as much zeal as any
Philosophising Believer. Whether it be by accident
or design I will not pretend to say, yet the very
illustration which Lord Brougham, in his Discourse,
(p. 43) calls "Dr. Paley's Example," was the favourite
illustration of Voltaire, half a century before. " Je
serai toujours persuade qu'une horloge prouve un
horloger, et que l'univers prouve un Dieu."1 Paley
makes a great deal of this idea, and extends it
through several pages ; as both parties, therefore, seem
to perceive so much strength in it, I shall examine
it fully ; for I am anxious to make it as plain as
truth can be made, that the whole " Argument from
Design " is a fallacy.
It is supposed, that in passing over a heath a man
might strike his foot against a watch, and, though
he had never seen one before, might, from an exami
nation of its various and nicely adjusted machinery,
conclude, that " its parts are framed and put together
for a purpose, e. g., that they are so formed and
adjusted as to produce motion, and that motion so
regulated as to point out the hour of the day ; " &c.
1 Reponse a M. Mart: Kahle. et al.

THE DISSERTATION. 123
In this case says Paley, " The inference is inevi
table, that the watch must have had a maker ; that
there must have existed, at some time and at some
place or other, an artificer, or artificers, who formed
it for the purpose, which we find it actually to answer,
Mrho comprehended its construction, and designed its
use." This case is contrasted triumphantly with the
accidental notice of a stone, which, it is presumed,
would exhibit no fitness of parts, or adaptation to an
end. It is not my intention to dwell on this assump
tion, further than to remark, that it might on analysis
appear, that the parts of the stone had a mutual
fitness, as well as those of the watch. A minute
investigation might make it appear, that the propor
tions in which the parts of that stone combined,
followed a numerical law of exquisite simplicity, and
incalculable extent ; perhaps even pervading universal
nature : and if the ultimate end, to which that par
ticular stone was adapted, were not so evident as in
the instance of the watch, yet if the one afforded a
probable argument for Design, so might the other ;
and the probability would, at the best, only vary in
degree. But I am of opinion that, neither the one
nor the other, taken alone, would afford sufficient
data for any such argument; and, as the watch is
considered the stronger case of the two, I shall keep
to that.
It is true enough, that we can perceive Evi
dences of Design in a watch. We have a great
deal of knowledge, which enables us to perceive
those Evidences ; but it is perfectly groundless to
suppose, that they would be perceived by a man

124 THE DISSERTATION.
who had not our knowledge, to a very considerable
extent. Let it be noted, that the man who (according to
Paley) finds the watch, does not draw one simple
conclusion, but two ; and the distinguishing of these
two will be of the greatest importance.
From examining the structure and action of this
mysterious thing, he concludes, first, That it points
out the hours of the day ; and secondly, That such
an adaptation of the watch to the day, is a highly
probable argument for an intelligent watchmaker.
This second conclusion depends wholly on the
first. What, then, does the first depend on ? — It
must evidently depend on the man's previous know
ledge of the natural disposition of day and night,
and of the artificial division of lime, into hours and
minutes. This latter requisite involves the necessity
of, I had almost said, a species of moral qualification.
For, if the supposed watch had been found by a
savage, he might have thought the small round
ticking thing, with twelve unmeaning signs, to be a
personal ornament, or even a musical instrument ; but
by no means can I suppose him to have thought of
its being a time-reckoner. Our watch-finder, there
fore, must be a person whose civilized notions of the
" value of time '' have suggested other artificial
notions of " measuring " and computing time. In
other words, he has acquired the habit of dealing
with a most abstract idea, as if it were a reality.
Now none but a man possessing such previous
knowledge and habits, could draw, either the first
conclusion, of general adaptation to a purpose ; or

THE DISSERTATION. 125
the second, of a designing mind. Observe : The
elasticity of a spring, the structure of a cogged
wheel, the linking of a flexible chain, would not
afford any argument for an intelligent watchmaker.
These are, severally, the work of inferior agencies.
But the mutual adaptation of wheels, spring, and
chain, to produce an intelligible result, which har
monizes with a conventional distribution of time, —
this indeed affords the highest probable evidence
(to one who was acquainted with that artificial system
of hours, minutes, and seconds,) that there was a
watchmaker who was likewise acquainted with that
system, and had adapted the watch to it.
It seems, then, that a man who knew nothing of
our division of time, and had never seen a watch
before, would not, from merely examining it, see
the Design of it, nor argue to a Designer, as Dr.
Paley did.1 He could not draw the first conclusion;
and, by consequence, would fail of the second. And,
if we turn next to the Theological Argument, we
shall find that we are exactly in the condition of
such a man.
1 The African Missionary Traveller, Campbell, tells an anecdote
that fully corroborates this. When he shewed his watch to a group
of savages, they started back with horror, thinking it, at first, from
its sound and motion, a living and almost supernatural thing. It
must be hoped, that some future Edition of Paley will have a note
on this circumstance. The closest examination, which the poor
savages afterwards gave it, did not suggest Paley's conclusion. That
is a troublesome fact Nor could they well comprehend the use of
the watch, even when explained to them ! Here I really think the
illustration, in some respects, rather happy. For man in examining
Nature to find God is like a savage examining a watch — (let me
add) — by Twilight !

126 THE DISSERTATION.
Paley, at the very outset of his Natural Theology,
makes an inadvertent admission, which overthrows
his whole argument, and utterly destroys the pre
tended parallel between the watch and the Universe.
His words are, "It requires indeed some previous
knowledge of the subject, to perceive and under
stand it !" Have we, then, according to the Natural
Theologians, such previous knowledge of the De
signs of God ?
It is true, indeed, that the beautiful order,
the marvellous adaptation, and arrangement, of
all things, both in the natural and moral worlds,
is such as must strike, with reverent wonder, the
mind of every man, who is not dead to all percep
tion of loveliness, or insensible, as lifeless rock, to
the grandeur of this majestic Universe. It is true,
that we may discover some, and believe in the
existence of many, subtle agencies ever at work
throughout the length and breadth of Nature's do
mains. But " Can we by searching find out God ? "
The ONE— the ETERNAL— the IMMORTAL—
the INVISIBLE — who hath created, and who
controls all?  The Hebrew prophet makes lowly
confession, " Verily thou art a God that hidest
thyself!" In Nature, as in the works of Art, the perfect
structure of various parts will prove but little. It
is only from the fitness of the whole to some exalted
end, that a Designer of that mighty whole can be
legitimately inferred. We acknowledge the elasticity
of the spring ; — oftentimes we may see the mutual
fitness of the wheels, the cogs, the cylinder, the

THE DISSERTATION. 127
chain. But we are in blank ignorance of the secret
system wherewith this wondrous machine doth
harmonize ! And thus to the Horologe of the
Universe, there is no Index ! — no mystic hand !
— no startling sound, pealing forth to announce the
mysterious end and purpose of Creation !

128

SECTION II.
Of theTheological Argument A Posteriori.
We have now seen, That the Argument " from
Final Causes," or " from Design," is wholly unten
able, as an Argument. That it does not, and cannot,
prove that for which it is brought forward. That it
is not what it pretends to be, a sound a. posteriori
Argument, from Effect to Cause, such as would be
justified by Proposition II. From which it is easy to
gather this inference, That natural Theology, so far
as it depends on this Argument, is a groundless spe
culation. But it may now be said — Although the Argument
from Design is incorrect, as an Argument, yet the
conclusion at which it arrives (or one very like it)
may be obtained, even on those very principles
which we have ourselves admitted. Thus, if our
fundamental axiom be true, that " Whatever begins
to be must have a cause ;'' then, every commence
ment, or change, of being, in Nature, may conduct us
at once to a Cause ; which Cause is God. And if a
simple fact of nature may thus prove a Cause ; a,
fortiori, " facts of fitness," such as we have allowed to
exist, must undoubtedly prove as much. From which it
would seem, that, even on our own showing, this first
Doctrine of a purely natural Theology, from which all
others must flow, might clearly be established.

THE DISSERTATION.

129

In' reply to this, I would ' distinctly confess, as I
before allowed, that this is a sound argument a pos
teriori. I admit, that from certain facts of Nature it
is not only fair, but inevitable, (according to the
fundamental Axiom and Proposition II.) to argue
some Cause ; but I shall endeavour to shew that this
is the whole Conclusion of this Argument ; and that
this is all that the " Argument from Final Causes" (if
it had been perfectly correct) could pretend to prove.
This Conclusion is so very indistinct, that, for all
practical purposes, it might as well never have been
drawn ; if the world had, from the first, been left
without any communication from God himself.
That there is, truly, a high purpose answered by this.
almost instinctive reference from Nature to its Great
Cause, which is so universal among men, may well
be allowed ; even if that end were no other than to
lift man's thoughts or aspirations above self and
nature, and " prepare the way" for the coming of
their God. I am now only anxious to shew, that the
certain knowledge which we have (for. certain it is) of
some Cause of all things, which is Intelligence, is not
sufficient to furnish the rudest outline of a Theology
purely Natural. Most of the remarks which I shall
here make will equally apply to the a. priori Argument
of Dr. Clarke, on which I shall hereafter enlarge.
The whole of Natural Theology must depend on f
this question — What can we learn, fromNature alone, \
of that Intelligence which is the Cause of all things ? — <
and I desire, with all fairness, to take into consider
ation the very utmost that the Naturalist may allege.
First of all — Can we, from any thing in Nature,

K

130 THE DISSERTATION.
decide on the truth of the Unity of God ? — for this, I
suppose, must be the centre of every Theological
System. I pretend not, on this or on subsequent points,
to make only new observations, or adduce none but
new objections ; but I am desirous of placing the old
ones on their proper footing — as objections which the
Christian has nothing to do with ; which affect not
his Theology ; but which utterly subvert and destroy
the sand-built edifice of the mere Naturalist. Chris
tianity is Demonstrative : to talk, therefore, of objec
tions to it, sounds, in the ears of the well-informed
and philosophic Christian, just as absurd, as to talk
of objections to any known truth of Mathematics, to
the expert Mathematician.1 But the Objections
which may occur to me, whether old or new, I shall
unsparingly urge, because they are necessarily de
structive of Naturalism.
I would therefore commence by asking, whether
the notion of One self-existent Being, who made all
things, and subsisted before all things, can be enter
tained with any distinctness by the minds of Men,
even when brought before them ; much less, whether
they could of themselves have arrived at such a
notion 1 — There is a lonely grandeur about it, which
is as far removed from our natural sympathies, as its
immensity is from our finite grasp ! The more we
may strive after a conception2 of it, the more con-
1 Observe, there may be difficulties to be solved, both in Theology
and Mathematics ; but objections to any Truth in either Science
there cannot be.
4 " Conception" results from an act of Understanding, and not from
an act of Reason. This and many other important verbal distinc
tions have been well defended by Coleridge.

THE DISSERTATION. 131
founded we shall be. " It is high, we cannot attain
unto it." — ABeingONE, yet everywhere ! must seem,
to the Human Understanding, a contradiction ; for
we cannot understand, or conceive of, Omnipresence,
except as Ubiquity; thus " translating an idea of rea
son into the language of sense." The further we
search into nature, the more difficult will appear the
notion of One God. The inconsistency of Evil and
Good flowing from one source, would lead us to sup
pose a Duality, if not a Plurality, of Gods : while the
boundless extent of the Universe might incline us to
embrace this latter Hypothesis, in preference to the
former. It is not a little extraordinary, that every writer on
the subject, both ancient and modern, hastily passes
over, or evades, the Doctrine of the Unity of the
Deity ; though every thing, of course, must depend
on it. It is undeniable that all the ancients, except
the descendants of Abraham, believed in many Gods ;
and, indeed, even that extraordinary nation, who had
had such ample means for becoming acquainted with
the one Jehovah, seemed to have an irresistible "na
tural" propensity to believe in other Gods ; which inve
terate tendency, it took a thousand years of prophecy,
miracle, and revelation, — of interposition, threaten
ing, and judgments, effectually to cure. This powerful
fact might, of itself, convince us, that the Unity of
God is a Revealed and not a Natural Doctrine.
Further — Is it not remarkable, that there is not to
be found, in all Grecian and Roman antiquity, one
single Argument for the Unity of God ? In the works
of their best Philosophers, as for instance, in the
k2

132 THE DISSERTATION.
Metaphysics of Aristotle, there are sentiments almost
openly Atheistic. Even the Parmenides of Plato
cannot be counted an exception to this statement ; for,
in the discourse of that profound Dialogue, the super-
essential One, To 'Ei/, is rather assumed than proved.
It is sufficient to see, in corroboration of this,
with what avidity every sentence, line, or even
disjointed phrase, of the Ancients, is seized upon
by us, as affording ground for hope, that they held
some of the truths of our Theology. I can only
say,, that when I have turned to the passages
quoted, I have too often found, that the sense
put upon them is such as would never have been
discovered without the assistance of a very skilful
commentator ; and, frequently, without violating
the ordinary rules of grammar. Indeed, so meta
morphosed are these soi-disant " quotations,'' in their
transfer from their original Author, that it is sometimes
a tax upon one's ingenuity to discover the passage
at all, in its primeval state, or even one that looks
like it. " If any practical sense of the Unity and
Personality of the Supreme Being existed at all
among the Ancient Philosophers, it is to be found in
the sentiments of Socrates."1 Such is the remark of
the learned Bishop of Chester. Now, whether we
take the opinions of Socrates from Plato or from
Xenophon,2 we shall come to the conclusion, that
1 Bishop Sumner's Records of Creation, Vol. I. p. 243, where
there are many judicious remarks on this subject.
2 The character of Socrates, as given by Plato, has but little in
common with that by Xenophon. The latter seems a vainglorious
philosophe, by the side of the almost apostolic meekness, simplicity,
and wisdom, of the former.

THE DISSERTATION. 133
they were of the most confused and contradictory
4cind. In the well-known discussion, for instance,
between Socrates and Aristodemus, recorded by
Xenophon, (where there are some remarks which
resemble the modern " Argument from Design,") he
frequently, as Bishop J. B. Sumner observes, betrays
a belief in Polytheism, by speaking of " the Gods ;"
and the same remark may be made on the whole
recorded sentiments of this greatest luminary of
ancient Philosophy. The Parmenides of Plato has
even seemed, to some, to contain a mysterious kind
of Atheism ; while the Cratylus openly recognizes the
grossest dogmas of the Mythology of Paganism.
And though I do not think that Socrates is charge
able with all the opinions put forth in his name, yet
I am justified in drawing the conclusion, that this
greatest and best of "Natural" Philosophers does not
appear to have had a certain knowledge of One God.
The modern writers on Theology— whether advo
cates of Design, or believers in Revelation, are just
as much at a loss to prove the unity of God,1 by
natural reasoning, as were the Ancients. Paley him
self is obliged to confess, at the end of his Chapter'
on this subject — " Certain however it is, that the
whole Argument for the Divine Unity goes no further
than a unity of Counsel /" But even this is assuming
too much ; for while a single discord can be found,
in all nature, it is too much to affirm that there is a
perfect and universal Unity of Counsel, if it be only
allowed that the Deity " doeth according to his Will
in the armies of Heaven, and among the inhabitants
1 See the whole Library of" Bridgewater Treatises.''

134 THE DISSERTATION.
' of the Earth." I should, however, look with some
', degree of astonishment upon the man who would
j assure me, that " Unity of Counsel" proved Unity of
Person!1 The Doctrine of the Unity of the Deity is intimately
connected with that of his Personality. Dr. Paley
treats first of Personality ; and in so doing he is, of
course, obliged to assume the Truth of Unity. And
this is no fault fairly chargeable on his Argument ;
for, by the necessity of the case, whichever is treated
of first, the other must, for the time being, be assumed.
But Paley might have spared his lengthy Chapter
on this subject ; unless it was his wish to give us a
specimen of " arguing in a circle." For, he strangely
defines a " Person" to be, " that which can contrive
and design," and then gravely proceeds to infer, that
' every designing Mind or Intelligence is a Person !' It
may be of use however to consider, a little more
minutely than this, what is really implied by the word
PERSONALITY. The word " Unity" is the opposite of " Plurality;"
at least, it is so used in the Modern Theology : on
: the other hand, the word " Personality" is the oppo
site of " Diffusion" of Essence, or Universality ; so
that " Person" may be defined as the Concentration
j of Essence. In the Platonic Philosophy there does
I not seem to have been any distinction made between

1 A Foreigner would be shown, as a rare savage, who from per
ceiving the Unity of certain " Counsels" of the British Parliament,
should conclude that the Parliament was but one person ; and
thence " argue," that the phrase " House of Commons" might he
used to signify his Town Residence !

THE DISSERTATION. 135
Personality and Unity; because the Unity in the/
Godhead was not treated of as interfering, in any j
way, with the opinion of a plurality of Gods. The •
Platonic Trinity, of which To 'Ev was the first Hypos
tasis, must, I think, be regarded in the same manner
as the Platonic notion of " Matter," — viz., as a"
" Pura Potentia," — -a mere Possibility. 1 consider it
as almost an abstract Idea ; the conceivable fount of
Deity — " fons Deitatis." According to Plato, Unity
might be predicated of a Multitude of Beings ; foop
every Intelligence is a Unit, and so far participates
of the Divine Nature, to lv, which is also to lv. And
I know not whether he or any of his followers ever
thus extended his idea ; but it is by no means incon
ceivable to me, that every Cause or Intelligence, how
ever finite, may be a " Trinity in Unity :" by which
expression, I mean, that in one Rational Being there
is, at once, Essence, Intelligence, and Life. How
much light this might throw on the Christian Doc
trine of the Trinity, I cannot here consider, without
wandering too far from my immediate object. But
I cannot forbear the reflection, that it is no sign of
Intellect or Knowledge to reject the Doctrine of the
Trinity as unreasonable, unless the rejecters are pre
pared to explain to us, What is Identity r What is
Essence? — which Locke professed himself unable,
to do.
Since, then, as has been said, the idea of the Unity
of God is now opposed to " Plurality," it evidently
implies something very distinct from " Personality,"
which may be attributed to many Beings. But the
ancient notion of " Unity," and the modern " Per-

136 THE DISSERTATION.
sonality," seem to a great extent alike ; for it is a
tenet of both Aristotle and Plato, that Identity is a
certain Unity.
It will be found, on reflection, that our notion of
Personality is derived, in the same manner as that of
Causation, or any other simple Truth of Intellect —
Hviz., from ourselves. Intelligence is not Personality,
/though it is included in it. We are conscious that we
possess Intelligence ; and we discover that our power
of exerting it is confined within certain limits. The idea
which we obtain by that discovery is the idea of " Per
sonality." We see around us indications of the same
kind of Intelligence in other men ; but should we con
clude them to possess " Personality," if we did not see
them to possess finite Bodies, and a power of acting
within certain Limits? — The Laws of the Twelve
Tables indicate Intelligence ;x but does any one sup
pose them, therefore, to have originated from one
"person ?" — We are, indeed, accustomed to see Intel
ligence connected with Personality, but there may be
no reason, in the nature of things, why Intelligence
should be personal, at all. Judging, therefore, by
natural light alone, I do not wonder that Fichte
should have thought, that " Personality could not be
attributed to God, without making him a finite Being
i like ourselves." Whoever will deeply reflect on the
point, will, I think, see an inconsistency in the notions
of Infinity and Personality. If the right definition of
Person be — Intelligence confined to certain Limits —
(and every person of which we know any thing agrees
1 Cir,ero De Oratore, c. i. sec. 195.

THE DISSERTATION. 137
with this Definition) how can natural reasoning con-u
elude, that the Infinite God is a Person ?
But not only are we unable, by the unaided efforts >
of our own understanding, to arrive at a knowledge ,
either of the unity or personality of God ; but all his ,
attributes are necessarily involved in equal darkness, \
whether we argue from abstract principles, or from
the facts of Nature. We are surrounded on every !
hand with the most contradictory phenomena. How
can we reconcile the numberless miseries which we
see around us, which are not a thousandth part of
the agonies of the " whole creation groaning and
travailing in pain together '' from the first until now,
with the belief of the perfect benevolence, the un
erring wisdom, and limitless power of God ? When
I look abroad into the works of Nature, I may point
to the poisonous plant, and the venomous reptile,
and turn to the Natural Theologian, who is so fond
of the word, and inquiringly mutter forth " Design !"
When I look among men, and behold the miseries
that afflict this " world of ours," I ask, when should ,
I be able to exhaust this teeming subject ? — But there l;
are, and have ever been, unutterable human woes, j
which the pen of the eloquent has never described,
which the verse of the poet has painted not, nor the
volume of the historian recorded ! — but which have \
taken up their lasting abode in the hearts of the
wretched ! What fearful enigmas are these to the
Natural Theologian ! Yet I dwell not on the I
numbers, or the poignancy, of human sufferings
(those bitter, truths that no sophistry can hide !) ; I
am desirous in this place to appeal rather to the

138 THE DISSERTATION.
judgment than to the feelings of any man. I ask
anv one to look into the books of the Natural Theo
logians and see with what weapons they combat
these unanswerable facts. Let it not be said that
the same difficulties present themselves to the
Christian ; — it is not so. The Christian Revelation
solves our difficulties, and discovers a remedy for our
evils. The Christian knows that " God made man
upright," but that he sought out evil for himself; to
have destroyed the possibility of which, God must
have destroyed the agency of man, and made him a
mere i^v^ov opyxvov, — a machine — an instntuneiait.
But the Naturalist, has no such facts to rely on -T and!
the weighty amount of evil in the world must crush
his system. It is easy to smooth over, with plausible
sophisms, any faithful representations of the natural
and moral condition of a world where goodness
withers, and every noxious evil rankly flourishes;
where virtue often suffers, and vice is triumphant.
It is easy to put forth, in bold relief, the " Manifest
ations of Beneficence," and keep in the back ground,
or sketch in a few hasty strokes, every thing of an
apparently .opposite character ! It is easy ; and,.
therefore, it is popralar. But is it honest ? Is this a
fearless following after Truth?' Can any man of
unshrinking candour confess himself satisfied — on
natural grounds — by seeing merely a balance struck
in favour of Almighty goodness ?' What is it but mere
special pleading, to argue that the general character,
the " paramount tendency " of God's creation is
good? I charge it on the Nataal Deist to reflect, that on.

THE DISSERTATION. 139
his principles he must appeal to the boundless power;
of God, and if but one solitary evil be found in his[
dominions, he must impeach his goodness ! For
how mighty an effect must the introduction of an
infinite quantity produce in these calculations. There
is no refuge from this conclusion, but in Christianity.
Infinite goodness and power are inconsistent with the
existence of one evil, — one misery. One misery ! 1
O what mockery to the Naturalist is there in
those words I In truth there is but little need to
open the volume of the world's history ! What
a catalogue of recollections does not every man
possess ! What a black succession of crimes and
woes, that this earth has witnessed, will at the
bidding of any man, " Come trooping up
Like spirits from the realm of Night ! "
I would not ask, whether there ever was one per
fectly happy man on earth ? but I would even ask,
whether to any man, who has no Religion but that
of Nature, there falls one unalloyed and lasting
pleasure ?
When the first man left the garden of his iimocency
and joy, it withered 1 The world knows, not where
it stood ! and the happiness that was found there is
now only remembered, in the annals of the recording
prophet, in the lament of the poet, ©r the philoso^
pher's fruitless research !
Yet it is no difficult thing for men of narrow naindsv
or selfish pursuits, to forget, or act as if they had
forgotten, all the calamities which come not within
the sphere of their immediate knowledge. But their

140 THE DISSERTATION.
forgetfulness will not blot out misery from the book
of being. It exists, though we may try to smother
the remembrance of it.1 I can very well conceive
that a man who has even much philanthropy in his
nature, if he finds himself surrounded with every
thing that makes life desirable — if his youthful
anticipations have been realized, or exceeded— if he
be greeted abroad, and looked up to in his own
circle — will have a high notion of the happiness of
earth ! He has seen but the golden side of human
life. The most wintry day has brought him no
diminution, but possibly a change, or even an increase,
of the happiness of his home. It may not occur to
him, that he is singularly blessed. The sunshine of
his own happiness has dazzled his eyes, so that he
can see but little else. I can imagine, that such an
one might, with unquivering pen, indite the following
passage : —
" It is a happy world after all ! The air, the
earth, the water, teem with delighted existence. In
a Spring noon, or a Summer evening, on which
ever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings
crowd upon my view.'' " The insect youth are
on the wing — Swarms of new-born flies are trying
their pinions in the air, &c. &c." " If we look
to what the waters produce ; shoals of the fry of
fish frequent the margin of rivers, of lakes, and
1 How little is it considered, that those " common blessings " of
English plenty, often carelessly massed together in the pregnant
phrase " the comforts of life/' are not possessed by one in a
thousand of the human race. But, necessary as these are to
happiness, does any one suppose them to constitute it, even when
possessed ?

THE DISSERTATION. 141
of the sea itself. These are so happy that they know
not what to do with themselves ! ' Their attitudes,
their vivacity, their leaps out of the water, their
frolics in it, (which I have noticed a thousand times
with equal attention and amusement) all conduce to
shew their excess of spirits, and are simply the
effects of this excess," &c.2 " What a sum of gratifi-.
cation and pleasure have we here before our view ! "3
Now what is the plain, stern, answer of natural
common sense, to all this far-fetched rhapsody ? —
Simply this; That buzzing insects, sportive birds, and:
leaping fishes, do not constitute a " happy world."4
Is this, indeed, a world of happinesss ?5 Let any
1 If this be the happiness of fishes, the anglers (and Dr. Paley
was one) cannot boast of contributing very largely to it. If
they "know not what to do with themselves/' their angling friends
attempt to teach them.
2 Query. Does a fish leap up for no other object than to demon
strate his happiness?
3 See Paley's Natural Theology, Chap. 26. It must be a dire
necessity indeed which could drive any one to such arguments as
these. I am surprised, beyond the power of expression, ' that
" flies," which often sting and torment, and were sent as a curse on
Egypt ; that " birds," which fly from man as their natural enemy ;
that " fishes," which prey on each other, and are preyed on by
man; should be brought to prove that this is a "happy world
after all!"
4 If a Spaniard should presume to doubt that Spain was a happy
Kingdom, would it be likely to convince him of the reverse, to point
out with what keen " gratification" his mule devours his food ? Is.
England happy, simply because the swine are well fed ?
5 If Dr. Paley really thought this world a happy one " after all,"
I can only conclude, that he was an exception to the general Tule
of Humanity, and had experienced less than most of our race, " that
Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards,"

142 THE DISSERTATION.
man, of ordinary feelings and average understanding,
think but one moment of the strange inquiry. He
will not need to ransack air, earth, and sea, to find an
answer. Let him walk half a mile from home, on a
winter's morning — it surely will not be passing
strange if he meet men, women, or children, half-
clothed, and exposed to the drifting snow or rain.
It may be that they are travelling to some distant
town, in search of precarious employ ; and they have
no place of rest, even for a night, on their journey.
Or, perhaps, they are homeless wanderers, outcasts
from society. He may bestow on them a trifling
alms, and give them to taste the bliss of momentary
gratitude (a deep, a real bliss, which the miserable
know how to prize !) — They pass on their lonely way;
and he on his. He arrives at a near country town.
There, if he have an appetite for reading, he may
take up some journal of the doings of the great ones of
the earth ; some daily bulletin of the war between law
and crime ; or of the strife between the oppressors and
the oppressed. If this view of humanity please not,
let him pass to the abodes of the shivering and
hungry poor ; or to the hospital of the sick and
dying ! Let him breathe infectious air ; and witness
the sigh of the diseased, or the gasp of the expiring !
Let him not wonder, if, from some desolate bed, a
stifled murmur reach him (a horrid sound, half-im
precation, half- prayer !). Thence let him depart;
and remember, that this is England ! — the happiest
land on the surface of God's Earth ! and if then he
could return to his home, his fire-side, and his study,
and write — " It is a happy world after all" — I could
not envy either his head or his heart !

THE DISSERTATION. 143
, To return to our Argument : — It appears that, by
the unassisted efforts of Nature, we could no more
arrive at a knowledge of the Character, than of the
Personality or Unity of God. The union of goodness,
wisdom, and power, in the Creator and Governor of
the Universe, seems incredible, on natural grounds.
The other attributes which the Natural Theologians
ascribe to God, are the imagined opposites of all
imperfection; or hyperboles, which the human mind
strives vainly to conceive.'
I conclude, therefore, that though, without a reve
lation, we might arrive at a certain knowledge that
there was a Cause (or Causes) for all things in Na
ture ; yet we could never tell, whether there was only
one Cause? or, whether there were many? — We
could not know even the Personality of any such
Cause, nor the moral character of it ; we must disbe
lieve either its wisdom, its goodness, or its power.
So that not one single truth of Theology could,
by any possibility, be arrived at, on Natural princi
ples.2 The legitimate natural argument from Causation is,
1 What, for instance, can any finite Being understand of the
meaning of such a word as Omnipotent ? or, indeed, of any word
beginning with " Omni ?"
3 Of course there could be no species of natural Religion, or
Worship, if there be no Natural Theology. A Being or Beings
of whose personality or character, we know nothing, could not be
worshipped by us. Socrates, with all his wisdom, thought praytr
to be superfluous, to Gods who do not change their minds. The
idea of Worship certainly does not seem to be a natural one. In
fact, the absurdity of Deistical " Worship" was evident enough
in the French Revolution. It was laughed down, by the very
populace.

144 THE DISSERTATION.
then, for all practical purposes, as useless as the
modern " Argument from Final Causes." But facts are1
as much against the Natural Theologians as Arguments
are. We may challenge them to show one purely
Natural Theologian in all antiquity. And it would,
perhaps, be as impossible to produce one modern
Philosopher, who firmly believes in God on purely
Natural grounds, as to find an ancient who believed
rightly in God at all. I will venture the assertion
that neither the Argument from Causation, nor the
fictitious " Argument from Design," ever satisfied any
but a Believer in Revelation ; who had other grounds,
of course, for his faith, and, consequently, was not
led to examine the Arguments, as such, with very
jealous scrutiny. Nothing is more easy than for a
Christian to embrace the Truths of Theology on
other grounds, and afterwards learn an argument in
their defence, and then even persuade himself that
his faith and hope in God depend upon it ! But it is
no less true, that the most learned Christians, and the
acutest Philosophers, have looked with suspicion upon
the pretended Theology of the Doctors of Design.
In confirmation of these remarks, be it ob
served, that (to select a strong case) no one was a
warmer Defender of the " Argument from Final
Causes" than Voltaire. Lord Brougham himself
does not surpass him in zeal. Yet, warmly as he
defended it, he did not seem to have been half con
vinced by it ; though, at times, he expressed himself
strongly ; especially when writing against any Chris
tian who disputed his Doctrine. Pascal, on the other
hand — the thoughtful, and truly Christian, Pascal—

THE DISSERTATION. 145
altogether rejected " Natural Theology." He boldly
confesses : —
" Je n'entreprendrai pas de prouver ici, par des
" raisons naturelles, ou l'existence de Dieu, ou la
" Trinite, ou l'lmmortalite de l'ame ; parce que je
" ne me sentirais pas assez fort pour trouver dans la
" Nature, de quoi convaincre des Athees endurcis."
Whereupon, Voltaire, exclaims, with indignant asto
nishment, " Encore une fois ! Est il possible, que ce
soit Pascal ! qui ne se sent pas assez fort pour
prouver l'existence de Dieu I"1 But, at other times,
this same stanch advocate of Natural Theology,
expresses himself in the most doubtful manner ; shew
ing plainly that, in spite of his boasting, he was
" not half convinced." Not to dwell on such phrases
as " Tout douteur que je suis"2 — which abound in
his writings — when treating expressly of this sub
ject, he takes refuge in the assurance, that no one
can prove God to be an Impossibility ! His words
are " Dans le doute ou. nous sommes tous deux vous
" ne m'en demontrerez pas Timpossibilite, de meme
" que je ne puis vous demontrer mathematiquement
" qufe la chose est ainsi !" I might quote many such
passages from the voluminous works of this champion
of Natural Theology and " Final Causes," to prove
his scepticism towards God. At one time he owns it
an unsettled point ; and, at another, he leaves it to the
sagacious reader to decide ; (" et il examinera long-
tems, avant de pouvoir juger.") But one passage is
too remarkable to be omitted or abridged. It may
1 Melanges de Philosophie, Vol. XIII.
s Qu. sur l'Encyc. Art. Dieu, p. 283, et p. 298.
L

146 THE DISSERTATION.
be considered as a fair summary of Natural Theo
logy.1 La Philosophic nous montre bien qu'il y a un [?]
Dieu, mais elle est impuissante a, nous apprendre, ce
qu'il est, ce qu'il fait, comment et pourquoi il le fait ;
s'il est dans le tems, s'il est dans l'espace, s'il a com-
mande une fois, ou s'il agit toujours ; s'il est dans la
matiere, s'il n'y est pas, et cetera, et cetera. Ilfau-
drait kre lui-mhne pour le savoir !"
The concluding line of this Confession, which I
have printed in Italics, contains a species of sarcasm,
which I can give no name to, without coining a word
— it is a true Voltaireism.
Such, finally, is the plain confession of the Natural
Theologian. That we, literally, know nothing at all
about the matter. Such is the conclusion to which
" Natural reasoning" conducted Voltaire.2
The argument a, posteriori must therefore be re
jected, as insufficient : — the argument from design,
as inaccurate.
It is well known, that Descartes considered this
latter to be even of an impious character : and, from
a passage in his Lectures, Dr. Brown himself may be
concluded to be almost of that opinion.3 I bring not,
1 El. of Newtonian Philosophy, first part, first chapter.
? Who, according to the anecdote retailed by Lord Brougham, was
liable to ridicule " for excess of religious principle !"
3 See Lecture X. But the following Extracts from the Notes to
his " Enquiry," will seem, I think, to most religious minds, to
border closely on profanity, however remote that intention might.be
from the professor. It, in fact, denies God to be the Cause of his
own purposes. " The consideration of that virtue, which Adversity
would tend to produce, would be the Cause of that Divine purpose,

THE DISSERTATION. 147
now, any such charge against it. Whether such be the
natural tendency of the " Doctrine of Final Causes,"
I leave to every one to decide for himself.1 But no
one can be doubtful as to the reason which Infidels
have for defending it so warmly ; after seeing what
we here have proved ; and after the plain avowal of
Voltaire, that strong advocate of Design. The most
hardened sceptic may embrace it; for, it leads to
nothing, either in Theology or Religion, Multitudes
of the half-learned, fashionable Discoursers, by ad
mitting the " Evidences of Design in Nature," or
(which they conceive to be the same) praising the
Argument a, posteriori, deceive the superficial and
the charitable, who would start with horror from an
avowed Deist. These men find it convenient to pass
thus for liberal and enlightened Believers; becaus
open Deism is not quite fashionable yet ; and they a
able to remain wholly religionless, and find a justifi
cation for so remaining in the obscurity of this de
ceitful dogma !
The Believer in Revelation, alone, has any right to
entertain the Doctrine of Design. When, on higher
and more substantial grounds, the Christian has
embraced his Holy Religion, this Doctrine may be
brought forward, to illustrate the Revealed Character
of God. The Christian, however lowly, however
or volition, in consequence of which Adversity exists?'' See p. 498.
According to which impious doctrine, God himself is acted upon by
abstract ideas — is no agent at all — but subject to some other power !
1 The unfair manner in which a detached verse or two of Scrip
ture have been represented as favourable to Natural Theology, is
noticed in Part III.
L2

148 THE DISSERTATION.
unphilosophical, will find a " joy unspeakable," in
thus contemplating the glories even of this lower
world ; — " His are the mountains, and the vallies his,
And the resplendent rivers ! — his to enjoy,
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who with filial reverence endued,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say — ' My Father made them all.' "'
1 Cowper.

149

SECTION III.
Of the Theological Argument a priori.
It is now concluded,
1st, That the "Argument from Final Causes" is
untenable, inasmuch as it does not result from the
true Doctrine of Causation ; it is inconsistent with
all the principles of sound argumentation; and is
clearly a mere petitio principii.
2ndly, That the Argument a, posteriori, for the
Being of God, is sound and correct, as far as it.
goes ; and, indeed, inevitably results from the true
Doctrine of Causation, contained in Propositions I'
and II. But this Argument will not teach us any
thing of the character of the Deity; or even lead us
to a knowledge of his Unity, or his Personality.
These two conclusions are corroborated, by every
fact which the history of the world has recorded.
We now proceed to show,
3rdly, That the Argument a. priori, so ably de
fended by Dr. Clarke, goes just as far as the Argu
ment a, posteriori ; but no farther. That is ; it shews
the necessity of some Cause ; but cannot prove the
necessity of either its Unity, or Personality ; and,
therefore, of course, no other of its Attributes.
Indeed, Dr. Clarke does not enter at all, strictly
speaking, on the proof of the Personality of the
Deity.

150 the dissertation.
If he had directed his attention more fully to this
subject, I think that he could hardly have failed to
see the fallacy of his Argument for Unity.
In examining the profound reasoning of so careful
a disputant as Clarke, it is indispensable to pay a
more than usual attention, to the value of every
word in a sentence. I shall, therefore, be obliged
to trace, from the beginning, his Argument for the
Divine Unity ; in order to see at what precise point
an undue assumption is made, and error in the
reasoning commences.
Bishop J. B. Sumner has remarked, That there is
one proposition in Metaphysics which no Sceptic
has ever had the hardihood to call in question ; viz.,
" That something must have existed from Eternity."
The truth of this proposition appears, from the
absurdity of supposing that this world, and the
beings which inhabit it, could have come into exist
ence, if there ever had been an absolute and universal
nothing. From our own existence, and the existence
of numberless other beings, we conclude " That some
thing must have existed from Eternity," by, what is
called, the Reductio ad absurdum.1 From this unde
niable proposition Dr. Clarke sets out.
The second step in his Argument is this. To
suppose an infinite succession of changeable and
dependent beings (as we undoubtedly are) to be
1 An objection is sometimes raised to the " Argument" which is
called by this name. But this can only be from the want of con
sidering (what I believe will be found to be the case invariably)
that the very test of every good Argument, in proof of a Truth, is,
that it is equivalent to a Reductio ad absurdum.

the dissertation. 151
produced by each other, from everlasting, is also
absurd. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude,
That there must be at least one independent un
changing Being, who has ever existed.
The third step in the reasoning is, That such
Eternal Being is underived ; which is signified by the
word self-existent ; because it is also absurd to
suppose, either any previously Existing Being ; or
that any Being could have been originated from
Nothing, without a Cause.
Thus far the assumptions are fairly made, and the
reasoning appears to me to be wholly satisfactory,
and in perfect accordance with our first axiom
" That whatever begins to be must have a Cause ; "
and with our three Propositions deduced therefrom.
But at this point an assumption is made, which,
being neither self-evident, nor proved, may be fairly
disputed. This assumption, as will be seen, is made
by means of an ambiguous word, on the twofold
meaning of, which1 we have already dwelt at some
length ; and of which ambiguity an advantage is sub
sequently taken, by Dr. Clarke, to prove the Unity of
the Deity.
The words of this part of the Argument are these ;
" That unchangeable and independent Being, which
has existed from Eternity, without any external Cause
of its existence, must be self-existent, that is neces
sarily existing ! ''
Now this word " necessarily existing " conveys
to my mind a totally distinct idea from the word
1 I must beg that pages 41, 42, and 43 of this Dissertation be
here reconsidered.

152 the dissertation.
" self-existent." It may be quite true that every
self-existent Being is necessarily existing, and that
every necessarily-existing Being is self-existent (just
as every equilateral triangle is equiangular, and every
equiangular triangle is equilateral)— but, in either
case, the two words are clearly expressive of two
ideas. And so close a reasoner as Clarke would not have
introduced this word, " necessarily existing," without
he gained something by it; for, as it afterwards
appears, his whole argument depends on it. Although
therefore, he gives this word as a definition of " self-
existent," he must have been aware that it was not
synonymous with it ; but meant something more.
Indeed, if this were not the case, why did he intro
duce the word at all ? Yet in a following sentence,
in which he endeavours to explain himself more
fully, it seems difficult to know, whether he intends
the two words to be synonymous, or only deduces
the latter idea from the former. His words are " To
be self-existent is not to be produced by itself; for
that is an express contradiction. But it is (which is
the only idea we can frame of self-existence, and
without which the word seems to have no significa
tion at all) it is, I say, to exist by an absolute
necessity, originally in the nature of the thing
itself."1 Now this last line contains more than has yet
been proved ; and, be it observed, only a little more.
But that little will appear to be of the utmost conse-
1 Clarke's Demonstration, pr. 3 p. 14. —Ed. Glasgow, 1823.

the dissertation. 153
quence. This will become evident by a brief analysis
of the" component parts of the Argument, so far as
we have admitted it to be valid. They may be
placed in the following order,
1st. We know that many dependent Beings like
ourselves exist.
2nd. To suppose an eternal succession of such de
pendent Beings, seems absurd ;
3rd. Therefore, there must be at least one inde
pendent Being,
4th. Who is of course underived, and hence called
self-existent.
5th. Such a self-existent Being must exist from
the necessity of his own Nature.
This last sentence is the same as that which
was quoted from Dr. Clarke, with the exception
of the word "absolute,'' which certainly does not
seem deducible from what went before ; and, being
joined to the word "necessity," gives rise to the
whole fallacy.
These five sentences are, I think, a fair and natural
series of Observations, which result from one another,
and all depend on the first ; and, in reference to that,
I ask, — Does any one think, that dependent beings,
like ourselves, exist by so " absolute a necessity,"
that it would be a contradiction in the nature of things,
to suppose that we might not have existed ? I freely
confess, that I can conceive the possibility of Immor
tal and Independent Beings having existed without
us, or any such as we are. For, to suppose them to
have stood in need of us, would be to make them
Dependent, not Independent, Beings. So that I see

154 THE DISSERTATION.
no " contradiction in the nature of things" in sup
posing, that Created Beings might never have been
created. And from this I argue, that as the fourth
Observation above, which affirmed the Existence of a
Self- Existent Being, results from the first, and could
not be deduced without the first, which affirmed our
own Existence ; and as our own Existence is not
" absolutely necessary," in the strictest sense of that
word ; so the Being whose Existence is deduced
therefrom, in the fourth observation, is not proved to
have an " absolute" but only a " relative necessity"
for Existence ; viz., as the first link in a Chain of
Being. It is of the highest importance to discern the
difference between Absolute and Relative necessity ;
which belong to two distinct Classes of Truths. I
shall, therefore, take pains to be explicit on the
point.
f-f Absolute Necessity may only be predicated of a
thing, when it could not possibly be supposed to be
non-existent, without supposing what would be a
contradiction in the nature of things. Thus, abso
lute necessity may be predicated of a Mathematical
Truth. For, if there had never existed two perfectly
i parallel lines, it yet would be an absolutely necessary
truth, that parallel lines produced ad infinitum, would
never meet. It would be an utter impossibility, a
" contradiction in the nature of things," to suppose
it otherwise. Or, if there had never existed a single
right-angled triangle, it would be quite as " abso
lutely necessary," and eternally true, that the square
of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the

THE DISSERTATION. 155
other two sides, as if the whole Universe had con
sisted of nothing else but right-angled triangles.
But Relative Necessity is predicated of that which t
is necessary, under the circumstances. A thing has a I
relative necessity when it cannot now (or in any given
case) be otherwise than it is ; though there might be
no contradiction in the nature of things, in suppos
ing, that it might possibly have been otherwise. In /
this sense, necessity may be predicated of any past ^
historical fact ; which, now, cannot be obliterated, so
to speak, from existence ; yet which, at one time,
might not have taken place; because there appears
no such antecedent, mathematical necessity for it, as
that its non-existence would be a " contradiction in
the nature of things."
This distinction, between Absolute and Relative
Necessity, may be thus symbolically illustrated.
If A exists, then B must necessarily exist. But
C must exist necessarily; without A or B or any other
Being. In which statement, B is the representative of Rela
tive Necessity, and C of the Absolute. If B be
" self-existent" also, then it may be said to exist by
the necessity of its own nature ; which is relative to
A. But the self- existent C exists absolutely, and by
an Eternal necessity, in the Universal nature of
things. If any one, however, prefer to say, that every Self-
existent Being exists by the " absolute necessity"
of its own Nature — I do not mind the words he may
use, so long as he does not assume, that the term
" Absolute'' implies that the non-existence of self-

156 THE DISSERTATION.
existent Beings cannot be supposed without a con
tradiction in the nature of things, i. e. a Mathematical
Impossibility. But the instant he assumes this, he
assumes more than is proved ; and I, therefore, dis
allow it. And as the word " absolute" is not only
liable to mislead, but actually misled Dr. Clarke, I
cannot help thinking, that it would be better not to
use it, in any such doubtful sense.
When I say that Self-existent Beings (until they
are proved to be something more than that) can only
be said to have a relative necessity for their exist
ence, I do not thereby throw any uncertainty on
their existence, since I do not even except my own; for
I wholly deny that there appears any mathematical-
necessity for my Existence. I admit some " Self-
existent Being," because nothing else will explain
the phenomena of " Dependent Beings." And, as
Self-existence must, of course, be underived from any
other source, I allow that a Self-existent Being must
exist from the necessity " of his own nature." But
that very expression [" of his- own nature"] implies a
particular and " relative," and not a universal and.
" absolute" Necessity. Which same conclusion, as
I have before hinted, would also result, from consider
ing the Personality of the " Self-existent Being."
But, I repeat, the words " necessity," and " ne
cessarily existing," are ambiguous words ; and their
Introduction can be of no good use ;. for if they mean
more than Self-Existence (and absolute1 Mathemati
cal Necessity certainly implies much more) — that
enlarged meaning remains to be proved. If they mean
1 Dr. Clarke's instance of absolutely necessary truth is 2 + 2=4.

THE DISSERTATION. 157
no more than self-existence, that one word is suffi
cient, and the other, which is so very ambiguous,
should be discarded.
Immediately after the conclusion of that Argument
of Dr. Clarke, from which we made the last quota
tion, it seems to be taken for granted, that necessary
existence is established, as firmly as self-existence ;
for he gives no new proof of it. Accordingly, when
he comes to demonstrate the Unity of the Deity his
Argument is as follows ; —
" To suppose two or more distinct Beings, ex
isting of themselves, necessarily and independent of
each other, implies this plain contradiction, That
each of them, being independent from the other,
they may, either of them be supposed to exist alone,
so that it will be no contradiction tp suppose the
other not to exist ; and consequently neither of them
will be necessarily existing ! "
The answer to which, is plain from the foregoing
observations. We do not suppose these two distinct
self-existent Beings to exist by any " absolute "
necessity of universal Nature ; but only by the ne
cessity of their own Nature ; which is relative.
And further ; we cannot suppose the non-existence
of any self-existent Being, without supposing also
the non-existence of all those Beings which depended
thereon. And if there be any self-existent Beings,
which have no subordinate Beings dependent on
them, or in any way connected with them, we
cannot ever come to know their existence, by any
reasonings or observations of ours. And, as to
the calamitous consequence, which Dr. Clarke de-

158 THE DISSERTATION.
duces, "therefore neither of these will be necessarily
existing," this is a consequence which does not at
all afflict my mind. Inasmuch as neither of the sup
posed Beings have yet been proved to possess that
which Dr. Clarke implies by this word. And how
these self- existent Beings can lose that which
they do not seem to have had, it is for those who
advocate that Argument to consider. Indeed, I
would venture the assertion that whoever will deeply
consider the matter, by the light of Nature alone,
will be apt to conclude that no Being, except an
Eternal Mind, can, in the strict sense of the term,
have any mathematical necessity for existence ; and
that absolute necessity only can be predicated of
the possible relations of Being ; and not, in general,
of Being itself. For we surely may, without a
mathematical contradiction, suppose a Universal
Nothing, i. e., an absence of all Being ; with this
exception to the supposition, that there must only
necessarily be some Eternal Mind, wherein Eternal
Truths must exist.
I need hardly remark, that the passage con
cerning the Unity of the Deity, on which I have
been dwelling is that which startled Bishop Butler ;
and which he could not be brought to believe, even
though he had the advantage of corresponding with
Dr. Clarke himself on the subject. But it seems a
little surprising to me, that so impartial and acute
a thinker as Butler did not perceive where the fallacy
of the Argument lies ; viz., in the ambiguous term
" necessarily existing."1
1 The letters of Clarke and Butler, on this subject, appended to

THE DISSERTATION. 159
I conclude that it is now sufficiently proved,
that the Argument a. priori no more establishes
the truth of the Unity of God, than the Argument
a posteriori. Though certainly its weakness is not
so immediately evident as that of the latter. Dr.
Clarke, in a letter appended to his Discourses,
writes thus on this subject. " The Unity of God
can no otherwise be demonstrated than by con
sidering, a. priori, the nature of a necessary or self-
existent Cause." And this method we have now
seen to be fallacious.
It belongs not to this Dissertation to consider
that part of Dr. Clarke's Argument which represents
space and duration as attributes of the Deity. And
few might be disposed to follow me in such a
discussion. I would, however, remark, that the
objection to Clarke's opinions, on these points, is,
perhaps, rather to the form of expression and the
order of his inferences, than to the real notion enter
tained. I believe that the followers of Kant, in
Germany, hold that our ideas of space and time are
not derived from the senses. Which important ob
servation, Berkeley made long since.
Of time it may, indeed, be more difficult to
speak briefly, without being misunderstood ; but
space seems, without doubt, to be an attribute of
Mind.1 And here I take leave of the Argument a. priori,
which is certainly the strong hold (the strongest
the Demonstration, and to Butler's Works (Clarendon Edition) are
models of patient and thoughtful reasoning.
1 I mean of all minds, whether finite or not.

160 THE DISSERTATION.
hold) of Natural Theology ; as it would be useless
to go through the consideration of those attributes
of Deity, which have before occupied our attention,
if the Unity of God cannot first be established.
The whole conclusion of Natural Theology, con
cerning all the attributes of Deity, is " Clouds and
Darkness are round about Him." The Christian
alone can add, " Righteousness and Judgment are
the habitation of His Throne ! "

PART III.
CONCLUSION.

" Thy Creatures have been my books, but thy Scriptures1
much more! I have sought Thee in the courts, fields, and
gardens, but I have found Thee in thy Temples !" Lord BacoW.

SECTION I.
Religion, a Final Cause op the Human Mind:
Our argument has thus far been directed against
the alleged proofs of the Fundamental Truths of
Natural Theology, viz. those concerning the Being
and Character of the " Unknown God" of the Deists.
It will be remembered, that it was boasted, That
Revelation itself was dependent (see p. 35.) on Na
tural Theology ; because the idea of a Revelation
from God, presupposed a belief in his Existence.
To which it might have been a sufficient answer to
say, That even allowing the necessity of this pre
vious belief, it would not follow from thence, that it
was either strictly deducible, or actually deduced, from
the principles of natural reasoning ; since there are3
M

162 THE DISSERTATION.
other sources from which such a belief might, and
actually does, arise ; as will hereafter appear. But
since we have shown, that the knowledge of one
God is not attained, by any of the arguments which
have yet been adduced, it may, perhaps, be too much
to admit, that a firm and positive belief in one God, is
necessary (even if possible) previous to a Revelation.
For let a case be fairly supposed ; That a person
age, possessing supernatural power, should appear
among men who had no Natural Theology of a clear
and certain kind, but only doubtful theories of their
own devising. The question would be — Whether
the suspension of the wonted laws of nature — the
working of benevolent miracles, openly, and undeni
ably — would not be a fair criterion of his character ;
and prove that he was, what he declared himself to
be, a Messenger sent from a Benevolent Superior
Power — i. e. God ? Could those people honestly
reject him ; unless it could be shown that his pre
tensions implied an impossibility? Or, at least,
unless they could demonstrate, that there was an ante
cedent improbability against all Revelations (such as
Mr. Hume pretended with regard to Miracles) whicli
no evidence could possibly overcome ? — This, cer
tainly, then, is what the Deist must prove, before he
can infer that his Natural Theology is a pre-re-
quisite to Revelation. And, until this be proved,
such an inference cannot be admitted.
But, I have said, there are other sources from which,
if it were necessary, some previous, though imperfect,
acquaintance with the First Truths of Theology,
might be (and indeed actually is) attained ; by which

THE DISSERTATION. 163
1 mean, That the constitution of the mind of man,
and the circumstances in which he is placed are'
sufficient to suggest the probability of Religion ; and
though they cannot furnish him certainly with one of
its truths, yet might make him feel the want of it.
And surely if any thing had been necessary, to " pre*
pare the way for the coming" of the Revelation of
God to Man, it could not be supposed, that abstract
arguments, such as those' of the Naturalists, would be
of much avail. Indeed the pretence, that Natural
Theology is necessary previous to Christianity, is
disproved by the nature of the case ; as well as by
undeniable facts. For what is more absurd, than to
suppose, that the mass of mankind (who, if there be!
a Revelation, are all, of course, alike interested in^
receiving it) could previously pause to satisfy them
selves, for instance, of the logical certainty of the
existence of a Deity, before they examined a Revela^
tion ? I say, then, that if any pre-requisite is to be
found, it must be one which could have a more uni
versal influence, than any which, the Natural Theolo
gians acknowledge. If Revelation be intended for
all men — then this pre-requisite must be accessible to
all. And such a pre-requisite I find in what I have i
called the very" Constitution of the Human Mind,"
as well as the Circumstances in which Man is placed; i
Here my conclusions are substantiated by facts :
for it is certain, that the generality of believers
have an obscure faith in God, almost by a kind of
instinct. They believe in Him, not because they have y
proved, but because they cannot get rid of the con- ¦
viction of, His existence. Their whole Being tends
m 2

164 THE DISSERTATION.
towards it. So that one of our strictest Reasoners, ia
writing a Philosophical Defence of Christianity,
thought himself justified in beginning with the
assumption of the Being and Attributes of God.1
Here, then, as in our former conclusions, we argue
from the " facts of human nature ;" while the Natural
Theologians, boasting of inductive reasoning and
scientific knowledge, proceed in defiance of all the
facts before them — " hypotheses fingere."
The facts are, beyond all denial, against the Natu
ral Theologians. Thus we find that the Jewish Pro
phets no where preface a Revelation of the Will of
God, with a " Demonstration of his Being and Attri
butes ;" but, rather, with a Declaration of them. The
Christian Apostles every where assume the Existence
of " The Living God who made Heaven and Earth
and the Sea, and all that are therein." And what
Justin Martyr, in his Dialogue with Trypho,2 affirmed
of the Hebrew writers, is equally applicable to- the
Christian : — "ou pira. drcoSi^ius irticowr&i tow Tsj'Aoyaf,
«T£ Civurigid 7ra<rris dnoSn^ius ovris dfyoTrWroi pxtrvpts fns
dXnSuci;." If Moses and the Prophets were believed
by the Jews ; and the first teachers of Christianity by
multitudes among the Gentiles ; without any attempt
at a Critical Demonstration of first truths ; it follows,
that if there were any predisposing principle, its in
fluence was derived from other sources than abstract
reasoning. And such sources, I shall attempt to show,
every man possesses within himself. And lest any
1 Butler in his " Analogy."
2 See Bishop Sumner's Records of Creation, vol. i. p. 255.

THE DISSERTATION. 165
dne should suppose, that this may afford some ground
for the notion of a purely Natural Religion, I shall be
very explicit, in stating the exact nature and effect
of the argument about to be pursued.
We have already availed ourselves of the doctrine
of Causation, as laid down in Propositions I. and II. ,
and have thereby arrived at the certainty, that there
must be some intelligent Cause or Causes, for all
things. From which conclusion- (which is, at present,
the whole amount of our Natural Theology) we arrive
at no certain knowledge of the Character, or Moral
Attributes of God ; nor even of his Personality, or
Unity ; nor do we thereby receive any conviction of
the necessity or rationality of Religious obligation,
or Worship ; nor can we thence obtain, at the best,
more than a probability of a Revelation. But we
are about to pursue another argument, founded on
the facts of " fitness" referred to in Proposition III.
(which even Mr. Hume did not deny) ; which will
conduct us farther than we have yet proceeded ; but
yet will not lead us to a Natural Religion. My design
is, to examine some principal facts of the human
mind, in order to mark their real character, and dis
cover whether there be any general Tendency, i, e.,
any Final Cause, of human Beings, as such. The
utmost effect of such an Examination, I anticipate to
be this : — It will evince a probability of a Revelation;
not only much higher than any which we have yet
seen, but so high as to amount to a kind of moral
necessity of a Revelation ; and, if I mistake not, just
such a Revelation as the Christian. And this I
believe to be the best precursor of Revelation. To

1.66 THE DISSERTATION.
show to Man his absolute want of it. To prove that
his whole being and constitution is adapted to reli
gion : — which religion, since it cannot (as we have
before seen) be deduced from purely Natural prin*-
ciples, must be Revealed.
I shall attempt therefore to establish the following
Positions : —
First, — There are plain indications in the very
constitution of Man (which may be gathered from the
facts of individual Experience and the History of
men in all Ages) that, as man is greatly dependent
on superhuman power, so there exists a Class of
relations, between him and that Superior Power;
(wholly distinct from those of mere Morality) ;
whereon is justly founded the belief, that some
Religion is positively necessary, for a being so con*
stituted as Man,
. Second, — It will appear, from a still further
examination of the mental and moral constitution
and history of Man, that a Religion suitable to him
must necessarily be such as the Christian, and no other,
Now reserving this latter Proposition for the next
section of our discourse, we have first to consider
what reason there is to conclude, that Man is made
for religion, in the same sense as he is made for
society. So that as it may be proved by facts that it
is not " good (or fitting) that man should be alone" —
it may also, in the very same way, be proved, that it
is wholly unsuited to man's constitution, that it is
" not good" or fitting, for him to be without Re
ligion. It is not necessary to begin with verbal definitions

THE DISSERTATION^ 167
of what the essential constituents of the Human
Mind may be. Strict definition is rather the result,
than the origin, of accurate knowledge. If many
facts of Physical Nature may be known, and relied
on, as facts, without any real knowledge of the essence
of any sensible natural objects ; so may many facts of
the human mind be enumerated, without any definite
knowledge of the constitution of the Mind itself.
But 1 cannot, in justice to my argument, wholly
abstain from noticing the opinions of some modern
writers, relative to what have been called " Innate
Ideas" — and " First principles of the human mind."
Not that it is my intention to enter on a prolonged
exposition, or defence of the Platonic Doctrine ; nor
is it at all necessary. The ridicule with which it was
once assailed has given place of late to a more modest
treatment ; and it cannot admit of doubt, that so much
of truth as that Doctrine contains, will eventually be
established in mental philosophy, in spite of the
efforts of a dogmatic Materialism. The greatest
opponent of the Doctrine, in modern times, Locke,
may, indeed, be triumphantly quoted, as giving the
best evidence in its favour. For he is obliged to have
resort to a source of ideas, occasionally, quite dis
tinct from those which he had declared to be the
only two sources, viz. : Sensation and Reflection.
In proof of which, I need only refer to that part of
his essay, " concerning our knowledge of God.."1 It
will appear, that what he there admits, under the
name of" intuitive certainty," differs but little, in a
practical respect, from the notion of Innate Ideas.
1 Book iv., ch. 10., sec. 3.

168 THE DISSERTATION.
But the consequences of Locke's hypothesis were
more steadily followed out by Hume and others,
than by Locke himself ; and in consequence, very
few, except professed Sceptics, may hereafter be
expected to defend it.
It is a very common practice, to represent Hume's
opinions as an exaggeration of Berkeley's Philo
sophy ; but this is so far from the truth, that Hume's
Scepticism is rather a legitimate inference from Mr.
Locke's hypothesis ; and may be traced to a rejection
of Berkeley's distinguishing tenet — the Efficient
Power of Mind, as the only real Cause of all the
Phenomena of Nature. Thus Mr. Hume affirms, that
" as the ideas of internal sentiment, added to those
" of external sense comprise the whole furniture of
" human understanding ;" [by which word he means
tlie whole mind]. " we may conclude, that none of the
" materials of thought are, in any respect similar in
" the Human and the Divine Intelligence."1 So that,
by following out Locke's principles, Hume demon
strated that " right and wrong — virtue and vice" — ¦
were mere fictions of the human mind, which might
in nowise resemble the moral ideas of the Divine
Mind ! So that what we think Virtue, God may
regard as Vice ! The irreligious, and indeed blas
phemous tendency of Locke's system of sensualism,
having been thus faithfully shown, by the too conse
cutive reasoning of his followers, the system itself
has, perhaps, more rapidly declined in reputation,
than if it had been only attacked by its enemies, and
formally disproved. The inadequacy of Locke's
r Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion, p. 46.

THE DISSERTATION. 160
v only two sources of our ideas," seems, indeed, to
be now almost universally acknowledged. Professor
Sedgwick, in a Philosophic discourse on the Studies
of the University of Cambridge, has eloquently
pointed out the deficiencies of Locke's system ; and
he hesitates not to admit, what he calls " innate feel
ings," and "innate capacities," in the Mind of Man.
Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, long
since declared, that by means of the " discursive
faculty." {i.e. by either sense or reflection), "we
could never obtain a notion of the Beautiful and the
Good. And, certainly, whoever will rigidly adhere
to Locke's hypothesis, must, with Mr. Hume, reject
the words " Spirit," " Substance," " Power,"
" Cause," and many others, as unmeaning terms ;
for, merely by means of our senses, we could never
arrive at any idea of these things.
Locke's Doctrine is built upon what is called
the Aristotelian theory — That " nothing is con
ceived which is not previously perceived."1 "Nihil
in intellectu, quod non prius in sensu;" whereto,
Leibnitz added, " prefer Intellectum ipsum."2 And
without this addition, it is, as Coleridge has re
marked, only " half a Truth ;" and I greatly doubt
whether the sentence itself is to be found in any of
the writings of Aristotle. It seems indeed to imply
that Intellect itself is Nothing at all ; that it is some
thing much inferior to a mere " tabula rasa " — that
it is something less than a shadow ; in fact, a non
entity, prior to the introduction of sensible know
ledge ! Now, it is useless to mystify and pervert the
1 and a — See Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 217.

\

170 THE DISSERTATION.
doctrine of innate ideas, just to get rid of it. The
question seems to resolve itself into this : — Are there,
or are there not, certain immutable relations of being,
which are inseparable, even in imagination, much
less in reality, from Mind itself? The affirmative
is the belief of the Assertors of innate ideas ; and
those who deny them, must affirm, that Mind is.
Nothing at all, previous to sensible knowledge ! So
that all knowledge is communicated to that which
has no existence ! This then is the strange creed of
those who reject the doctrine of innate ideas : Either,
That every object in the Universe has nothing for
its subject ; or, that Mind originally exists without
ideas ; i. e. Intellect exists apart from Intelligence —
Thinking Beings, without thought !
But I am unwilling to risk the reception of the im
portant truths for which I am about to contend, by
representing them, as in any degree dependent on,
what may be thought, uncertain speculations. I
leave the foregoing remarks for those who may be
willing to receive them; hoping that with some
minds, they may not be without their utility. In
attempting to prove, that Man, by the very constitu
tion of his Being, is adapted to Religion, I will rely
on nothing doubtful, nothing at all metaphysical, or
disputable. These points will, I think, be allowed to be quite
certain ; — That Thinking Beings do exist : That man
is of the class of Thinking Beings : and, That such
Beings, however simple their essence, have a consti
tution, or essential character, of some kind or other.
What that constitution is, may be a point on which

THE DISSERTATION. 171f
it is impossible for us, certainly, to decide. We can,
only know it, so far as it is indicated by action. So
that Human Actions, whether known from Individual
Experience, or from Universal History, are the posi
tive phenomena, from which our only knowledge of
Human Beings is derived. And, when any class of
Human Actions may be seen to be of a universal
kind, (and not confined to particular men, or classes,
or to men in a savage state, which is unnatural, but
extended to those men who are in the state of
highest civilization, which is suited to them) — we
may fairly argue from such actions to the Mind from
which they must result.
Now, from the knowledge which may, in this:
manner, be obtained of the character of the human,
mind — I am about to argue, that man was plainly
made for Religion.
Such an Argument will, doubtless, require great
caution, lest such actions as are the result of an
idiosyncracy, or singular temperament of individuals,
be mistaken for the actions of human beings, as
such. But no danger can be apprehended, under
this head, if it be borne in mind, that the character
istic acts of individuals have a peculiarity about them,
which finds no universal correspondence among
their fellow-men. While, on the other hand, it
is equally true, that there are many cases in which
human minds are alike, i. e., have one constitution ;
so that " as in water face answereth to face, so
answers the heart (and mind) of man to man." In
all which cases it would be absurd to attribute such
actions merely to certain individuals ; for we see

172 THE DISSERTATION.
that they are attributable to all men, of every age,
clime, nation, and condition ; and this would be
assigning a partial and local cause, for a universal
effect. Thus, then, by carefully examining some
" facts of the Human Mind," I hope to establish — a
plain statement of its " final cause," its natural
" tendency," as the only possible pre-requisite to
Religion ; in the place of the spurious Naturalism
which has been before disproved. And such an
Argument to " Final Causes " is felt, and practically
understood, by all men, although the generality might
not comprehend an abstract statement of it.
(1.) First of all, I would adduce a fact which meets
us at the very outset of our inquiry, which has been
often noticed by different writers, but which is prac
tically disregarded, or lightly esteemed. I mean this :
— That however greatly Religions differ among men,
some kind of Religion seems to be universally
acknowledged. I say universally, because those two
or three tribes of savages which were instanced, by
some French writers, as exceptions to this universal
fact, cannot influence our decision in the least
degree. Indeed they demonstrate, if true, how deeply
degraded Man must be — almost (to use the expres
sion of Coleridge) "hunted out of his humanity,"
before he could lose the Religious instincts of his
Being. But, indeed, even these exceptions seem to
be now surrendered. The accounts of those French
travellers concerning uncouth tribes of men, who had
no notions of any sort of Religion, have been seen to
be mere fabrications. So that what was admitted in
Dr. Balguy's time, as a fact, appears to be a fiction

THE DISSERTATION. 173
of the boldest kind, ventured on for the support of an
Atheistic hypothesis ; in consequence of the apparent
difficulty of disproving it. For, it may now be safely
declared, that no section of the human race has yet
been met with (whose language we have sufficient
knowledge of to enable us to ascertain their opinions)
who are so nearly outlawed from Humanity, so nearly
degenerated into wild beasts, as to be wholly Reli-
gionless. Here then is a Fact ; — The Universal Pre
valence of some Religion.
Now it is no explanation of this fact to call all \
Religion " Superstition," and then say, that " The /
vulgar in all ages are prone to Superstition." For the 1
Superstition of which I speak, is by no means con
fined to " the vulgar." In addition to which consi
deration, it must be remembered, that this free con
demnation of Religion, as " Superstition," is a plain
petitio principii. If a belief in the Supreme Being, ,
or in a future life, be Superstition, then Superstition,
instead of being confined to the vulgar, is shared by
Socrates and Plato — by Bacon, Newton, and Berkeley 1
— in a word, by the good and the great of every age. /
And I am so far from being frightened, by this bugbear
of the "Freethinkers," 1 that if it could be shown, that
any " Superstition" was universally prevalent among
all men, whether wise or unwise, and seemed after
6000 years' experience to be ineradicable from their
constitution — I should be apt to conclude, that such
superstition was Truth.
And further, it is useless to oppose to this fact, a
simple denial of all first principles — • or " innate
1 Etym. — Perhaps another instance of "lucus a non lucendo !"

174 THE DISSERTATION.
ideas " in human minds. For we have previously
excluded all such metaphysical niceties from this
discussion, and are treating only of a question of
fact. And therefore, I request any who may be dis
posed to doubt the ground on which we are proceed
ing — once more to consider attentively our Postulate
i in p. 46. The inveterate propensity of man to some
Religion — (which consists in the belief of certain
Relations existing between Man and some Superior
Power — which is more than mere morality) — is a
" fact of the Human Mind" which no sophistry can
explain away. It is a fact as universal as the belief
in Efficient Causation — or Spontaneous Agency —
whereon depend all the conclusions of human science
— all the actions of human life. In proof of the
fact, I appeal to individual Experience, and to Uni
versal History. And I draw from it no far-fetched
inference. My conclusion is implied in the simplest
statement of the fact itself. There is in man a Ten
dency to Religion. Whatever be the constitution
or essence of the human mind — Religion is its " Final
Cause." (2.) The second " Fact" which I shall here adduce
shall be a very simple one ; of which all men, however
scanty their knowledge in other respects, may be, to
a great extent, good judges, if they merely consult
their own hearts and consciences. It is this : — There
is in Man a principle of Gratitude for favors received.
This fact I consider to be as undeniable as the former;
or as any which could be brought forward. All
experience bears witness, that there are feelino-s of
Gratitude in human hearts, which are elicited by

THE DISSERTATION. 175
suffering, on the one hand, and by benevolent
sympathy on the other. Indeed, the baseness of
no crime is so universally acknowledged and de
tested as Ingratitude ; and it has even been ob
served, that this is, perhaps, the only crime of which
no man would ever acknowledge himself guilty.
It might, therefore, seem superfluous to enter into
any formal proof of the existence of this principle of
Gratitude in Man. We are surrounded with a " cloud
of witnesses." The child who clings closely to his
mother, grateful for her protection and her love,
bears as strong a testimony, in this cause, as the
poorest and most dependent of our race, who drag
on their pilgrimage from the cradle to the grave,
receiving the bounty of the rich, or the patronage of
the stranger.
Nor can it be said that the feeling of Gratitude is
a merely moral, and not a religious, feeling. A
very little consideration will convince us, that this
feeling is by no means confined to those moral
relations which subsist between man and man.
When unearned (and perhaps undeserved) benefits
are received by us, and from no human hand ; when,
for instance, a rescue from misery, or ruin, arises
from some hidden cause, to which men ignorantly
assign the name of Chance — will the heart of man
be in nowise affected ? Will not such un-hoped-for
deliverance cause a feeling of deepest gratitude to
spring up within him? — and to Whom? — I judge
from myself, and from those human beings with
whom I have been able to acquaint myself, and I
firmly believe, that at such times, the human heart

176 THE DISSERTATION.
" leaps up " (to adopt an expression of Words-:
worth's) with thankfulness and joy, to some superior
Power and Benevolence, who has thus overruled
events for our good !
Nor can I persuade myself that these instincts of
our nature are deceitful and untrue. I rather conclude
that the " fact" that man is thus constituted, is an
irrefragable proof that he has naturally a tendency to
religion of some kind, i. e., a relation or connection
with, and dependence on, a Superior Power.
(3.) If further proof were required of the natural
tendency of the Human Mind, I would point to
another fact — the readiness with which even bad
arguments are admitted, for the first truths of
Religion. Concerning which I may refer back to
the whole of the second part of this Dissertation,
and especially page 129. A kind of instinctive
reference (I hope I may be pardoned for using a
word which, though somewhat inaccurate, expresses
my meaning more nearly than any other that I can
think of), an instinctive reference from Creation to
the Creator, from Nature to God, is universal among
men. This species of indistinct Religious Sense
requires, doubtless, to be cultivated ; but, on the
other hand, it can never be quite eradicated, without
making man a brute. Nothing is more suitable to
the human mind, than to believe in the existence of
a power and goodness (above all earthly power and
goodness), the tokens whereof are before the eyes, and
within the heart, of every man. This reference from
nature, to some Power above nature, is perfectly
sound and correct. That such a reference is

TH'E DISSERTATION. 177
tftevitably made by us, is one of the facts of the I
human mind. The error of the Natural Theologians / ,
lies, not in admitting this fact, but in exaggerating
it into a formal Syllogism ; or speaking of it as an
" Argument from Design ;" which is absurd.
(4.) I might occupy much space with observations
on many other "facts of the human mind" which
would justify the same conclusion as the foregoing:
Much, for instance, might be urged on the facts —
That the constitution of the riiirid of man is such',i
that it cannot help marking the moral inequalities or|
this world : and the consequent necessity of another
state of being where " these odds must be made
even :" — That our constitution is such, that we are >/¦
startled by the depression of Virtue, and the exalta
tion of Vice ; and admire the heroism which calmly /
waits for its future reward. These, and similar facts, f
might well be dwelt on ; but I fear to seem tedious
in elaborating a point which most men may readily*
admit. But there is one more fact which I cannot
forbear noticing, for it has in itself a weight which-
might bear down all objections, even if it stood
unsupported and alone.
Have we not an inward sense of the very no
thingness of this life? — In spite of the deadening
pressure of this world's business, have we not'
often-times an aspiration after a better world ? — or,
at 'least, an impression that we' were called into,
being for something more than all this earthly'
scene? Who has not in his heart subscribed thej
feeling declaration of the Apostle, " It doth not yet'
Appear what we shall be ? " If there be any thriving'
N'

178 THE DISSERTATION.
" earthworm,'' to whom these words convey no
meaning, let us not call him a man ! Here, if in
no other point, I feel conscious that I shall have the
suffrage of all men capable of feeling, understanding,
and reflecting. In this particular I am sure that the
" heart of man to man " is as the reflected face in a
glass. Who has not felt, that this is not the chief, or
only, end of being ; — to breathe — to eat — drink
— sleep — to-day, to-morrow, the same — and onward,
for a few short years, till at length we lie down, and
die ; giving place to others, who are to do the same,
in a useless, continuous, course for ever? Oh ! who
has not exclaimed — " Is this a//?" Surely the fullest
abundance of the things of this world will never
satisfy the cravings of the human mind ! Such is
the very constitution of Man, that to him all things
here are unsatisfying. And what is this but an
inherent "tendency" in man to abetter life than
this present ? This inclination, longing, or pro
clivity, is an undeniable fact ; and if our nature
speak the truth we cannot perish here !
I appeal not alone to the wretched or the discon
tented — but even to those who are blessed with all
that can make this life desirable. I would appeal
to any man who thinks seriously on the matter;
even to him who, in addition to the outward bless
ings of liberty and plenty, has the higher and
purer joys of a " conscience void of offence," a
heart of charity, and a home of love — and I doubt
not, that in his hours of quiet meditation, he will,
at times, be possessed with a deep consciousness
of the nothingness of the world — will feel an inde-

THE DISSERTATION. 179
scribable void — a want of something more than
all this — something loftier, nobler, and more endur
ing ! This fact, if it stood alone, this upward
tendency of the mind, would suffice to prove that
man, by his very constitution, is adapted to some
Religion ;" in other words, that " Religion is the
' Final Cause ' of the human mind."
Now this conclusion cannot be reasonably rejected
by any one who admits our Postulate, (p. 46.) And,
if this conclusion be adopted, the only plea which can
be plausibly brought forward for the fictitious science
of Natural Theology, (viz., that it is introductory to
Revelation) is at once taken away. If any precursor
be necessary to Revelation, the tendency and predis
position of the human mind must be owned to be a
more true and more effectual (because more uni
versal) precursor than any other. It is easy to raise
objections to what has been here advanced ; but it
surely is unreasonable to be reluctant in admitting
whatever is clearly proved; if, therefore, our first
position (p. 166) be now established, on a basis of
" fact," it cannot be overthrown by a sneer or a
prejudice. " The fear of Superstition doth exclude
Half of the truth from th' earth ; — the multitude,
Once prone to every marvel, now affect
To grow most philosophic, and reject
Whate'er they handle not, nor taste, nor see ! —
I envy not their vain Philosophy !
I deem such wisdom of but little worth I
— Our nature speaks the truth ! — our inmost soul
Has sympathies, which sorrow will bring forth,
With the deep mysteries that throng the whole
Of wide Creation —new-felt sympathies —
N 2

180 THE DISSERTATION.
Hid and unknown before — which are as ties-,
And links, to th' Universe — Earth — Ai'r — and Skies !
Mystery, if all untrue, man's heart rejects ;
But gives response to Truth, tho' darkly seen ;
Hence Superstition's power, which ne'er had been
So dominant, nor wrought such strong effects
On all men — reverend age and vigorous vouth —
Were it not strangely mighty, to create
A phantom-lie, so like some mystic truth,
That human hearts bow down and venerate ! —
Our human hearts have sense that there is much
In Nature that we know not — that we touch
The confines of th' invisible, and unknown !  "

F';"'-p»

,18.1

SECTION II.
Of Revelation.
I should content myself with merely deriving. my
¦remaining conclusions, as unavoidable inferences,
from what has been thus far proved ; but for the
fact, that moral conviction does not always fol
low, from the formal establishment of any point,
however important. I would, therefore, wish to
add some strong collateral reasons, which may have
a moral weight of their own ; nor would I .avoid the
consideration of any fair objections to the principles
thus far advocated.
If it be admitted, that no single truth of Theology >
can be arrived at by the sole force of natural',
reasoning, (see p. 160) and yet, that man, by his; I
very mental and moral constitution, is plainly/
adapted to some Religion, (see p. 166) I see not<j
what is to prevent a conclusion in favour of a Reve- •
lation of some kind ; unless we can make up our \
minds to believe, that our Religion ought to be a j
system of guess-work, constructed by Imagination, j
¦after the failure of the efforts of Reason. I conceive/
therefore, that, excepting those who may be ready
to defend this paradoxical notion, all men will be
inclined to admit the necessity of some Revelation ;

182 THE DISSERTATION.
for, as Dr. Paley has well observed, few men will
be found who imagine, that, even with all the ad
vantages of Christianity, we have too much light,
in Religious matters. Whatever theoretical diffi
culties, or objections, may lie against the notion
of a Revelation, I would simply ask — whether the
necessity of a Revelation, of some kind, has not
been clearly established ? — and, if so, — whether ob
jections of this class be any better than mere dialectic
amusement ?
The phrase " Revealed Religion'' is, as Coleridge
remarked, a pleonasm :2 for all Religion must be
revealed, or it is nothing but bare hypothesis. But
there are those who object "That the Christian
Revelation itself acknowledges the existence of a
Natural Religion;" and, if this objection can be
made good, our present conclusions will be, of course,
destroyed. But I shall endeavour to show that this
widely-prevalent notion arises from the ambiguity of
the .phrase3 " Natural Religion ; " and the misinter
pretation of texts resulting therefrom.
I have, more than once, explained, that the
" natural Religion," against which our argument
has been directed, is a system which the philosophic
Deist affects to deduce from premises. That in
dissoluble connexion which the mind of man almost
1 It seems hardly necessary to prove in this place the superiority of
Christianity over all other professed Revelations.
s This volume had nearly passed through the press before I
had met with " Ellis's knowledge of Divine things from Revela
tion," to which book I refer my readers.
3 See page 3.5.

THE DISSERTATION. 183
instinctively perceives between natural glory and/
supernatural power, is no logical deduction from\
premises: — it is no " argument from design.'' While!
I maintain, then, that the Scriptures alone declare
the Unity of God, I own, that " The heavens
declare his glory:"— and as man's eye perceives
the light of heaven before he can reason about it,
so does man's mind perceive, long before he begins
tb reason about, the glory of that power which
" spreads forth the heavens as a curtain." Nor let it
be said, that the distinction which I argue for, is a
merely verbal, or a useless distinction. For by
shewing the Deist, that his Naturalism is not a
deduction of strict reasoning, we compel him either
to own, that he sketches out a Religion according
to his own fancy, and then presses reason into the
support of it ; — or, to confess, that it is unreasonable
to reject the assistance of that Revelation which
alone will furnish him with that Religion which
his very constitution is adapted to, and stands in
need of.
The strongest text which the advocates of Na
turalism have been able to bring forward, is in
the 1st Chapter of the Epistle to the Romans :l But
I hope to prove that that text, instead of supporting,
directly opposes their system. I shall attempt to
shew that St. Paul is arguing to Final Causes rather
than from them : that, so far from assuming that a
1 " For the invisible things of him from the creation of the
world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are
made, even his eternal power and Godhead ; so that they are
without excuse."

184 THE dissertation.
belief in a Deity is strictly deducible from natural
premises, he makes direct reference, both here and
elsewhere, to other sources, from which this theo
logical knowledge was derived.
In the 19th verse of this Chapter St. Paul main
tains that the " wrath of God " was due towards the
heathen world, and for these two reasons; 1st.,
" Because that which may be known of God is
manifest in them ; " and 2ndly, " God hath shewed it
(ifMtwtfi) to them.'' And after making this refer
ence both to the " constitution of human nature "
(representing Religion as its " Final Cause") and to
a " prior revelation," on God's part ; he adds — " For
the invisible things of Him, from the creation of the
world, are clearly seen, being understood by the
things that are made, even his eternal power and
Godhead ; so that they are without excuse. Because,
that when they knew God (" yvoi/ns rov ®tov ") they
glorified him not as God, neither were thankful : &c."
And again, in the 28th verse, he makes mention of
their having had a previous knowledge of God, which
they had lost, " They did not like to retain God in
their knowledge." Again, in the next chapter, he
makes another allusion to the "constitution of human
nature " speaking of the law written in the " con
sciences '\ of Men.
But further — As a firm believer in the Jewish
Scriptures, the Apostle could not have been un
acquainted with the fact, that all men were descended
from common parents, to whom God had personally
revealed himself; and that, at the flood, a Revela
tion was also made to Noah, the ancestor of the whole

the dissertation. 185
post-diluvian world. Now, the Apostle's acquaint
ance with this fact is wholly inconsistent with the
notion that he admitted of a Theology actually de
duced (even if logically deducible) from natural
premises. The Apostle admitted the fact, that our
common forefather had a revealed knowledge of
God : and, indeed, I never heard of any one who
imagined that Mankind were ever totally destitute
of the knowledge of a Deify — i.e. had ever completely
obliterated all traces of the Primitive Faith, and then
reasoned themselves into a rational " Natural Theo
logy '• " The facts of all human history are con
clusive against the hypothesis, that a Natural
Theology was ever deduced purely from Natural
Principles. I conclude, therefore, that when St.
Paul declares that the heathen world have enough
" in them " (see p. 1 77) and that God " hath
shewed " enough unto them, to render them in
excusable, he is so far from sanctioning any such
theory as the Natural Theologians maintain, that
his express words, as well as his known opinions,
and character, are against it. That kind of Gentile
Religion, to which he alludes, is no deduction
from premises ; he makes an induction of the facts,
of the moral " conscience,'' and the " constitution
of the Human Mind'' — and, above all, " PrimU
five Tradition " L — and justly argues therefrom,
that Man's fearful departure from God was " in
excusable." And now, passing from the consideration of this
1 See Note D.

186 the dissertation.
objection, which is a parenthesis in our Argument,
let us briefly notice,
The second Position. — That a Religion suitable
to man must necessarily be such as the Christian ;
and no other (p. 166).
This might be made evident by pursuing either
a synthetical or an analytical mode of argument.
/That is, we might make an induction of the chief
truths of Christianity, and shew their suitability and
adaptation to the wants and constitution of Man :
Or, we might enumerate some of the principal
peculiarities of the human constitution, and shew
therefrom, that man stands in positive need of
just such Religious Truths as the principal doctrines
v of Christianity. The latter method is perhaps to
be preferred, as it is a more plain and immediate
Argument to Final Causes ; and is of the same kind
as that pursued in the last Section. I shall there
fore attempt, briefly, to make use of it ; though I
may not wholly neglect the other method.
It cannot be denied that human laws, customs,
and habits, are, to a great extent, the result of the
Human Constitution ; consequently, we may infer,
from the universal, or very general, prevalence of
certain institutes and customs, that man is a being
of such a nature, that such institutes are suitable and
necessary to him. And we shall thus arrive at a
more definite idea of Man's Religious Constitution,
and be less liable to mistake, than if we relied on
merely verbal definitionSj and logical criticisms*
which no two persons might exactly agree about.

THE DISSERTATION, 187
Now, it is a singular and undeniable fact, that the
Religious Institutes of all nations, bear some resem
blance, more or less striking, to the institutes of
Christianity.1 The analogy is not so strong that we
may infer, that either the Heathen or Christian Insti
tutes were originated purely by the natural efforts of
the mind of man ; yet it is strong enough to warrant
the conclusion, that the Institutes are, to a certain
extent, consentaneous to the human constitution.
And, that if Man is to have a Religion suitable to
him, it must, in its main particulars, resemble Chris
tianity. And when we further discover, that the
well-being and perfection of man, up to the present
4;ime, have varied, in exact ratio, with his confor
mity to Christianity; and that the Institutes of
other Religions are only suitable ' to Human Na
ture, and contribute to its well-being, in propor
tion as they are assimilated to the Christian In
stitutes ; I think we have the strongest reason to
conclude, that Christianity is the necessary Religion
of Man.
Previous to the Christian era, we find, that a gra
dual corruption of religion had taken place, almost
from the earliest ages ; so much so, that the farther
we go back, the purer and the simpler does the
religion appear to have been. " Quo propius
aberat," says Cicero in his Tusculan Disputations,
" ab ortu et Divina progenie, hoc melius ea fortasse
" quae erant vera cernebat." By thus tracing back
the wide and languid stream, of Religious Tra
dition, to its sources among the rivers and fountains
1 See Note D.

T88 THE DISSERTATION.
which watered a primeval paradise, (where man
rejoiced in the presence of his Maker ! — where
*' creatures of a day" held holiest communion with
the Eternal !) — we shall find that the simplest and
purest religious doctrines and practices are those
which are most ancient, and most universal ; and
which Christianity more fully developes, elucidates,
and enforces.
In the Book of Job, for instance, (more ancient
perhaps, by some hundreds of years, than any book in
the world,) we find no traces of an intricate theology,
or an elaborate ceremonial. The belief in one
God — the Creator, and Moral Governor of the
World — The acknowledgment of the Moral Cor
ruption of Man. — The hope of a future Sanctifier,
¦and Redeemer; — These points seem to constitute
the brief, though comprehensive, Creed of the Patri
archal Religion. And it was accompanied and
•transiriitted, by the one significative rite of Sacri-
-fice. Now these three points — the belief in God — in
Man's present alienation from him — and in the future
restoration to his favour — may be traced, though in
a thousand distorted forms, in every Religion which
has been known among men. But Christianity is
the only Religion which receives these points purely,
and without those peculiar crudities, and absurdities,
which, more or less, distinguish every other system.
Now, these points must be owned to be, either
Tevealed originally by God, or to be the natural
offspring1 [by no means the logical deductions] of
the Human Mind ; and our argument for their
1 See page 176.

the dissertation. 189?
reception, as truths, is equally strong on either
supposition. For if they be acknowledged to be
revealed, their truth, of course, is at once settled ; —
they must form part of our religion : and if they
be thought to be the natural offspring of the mind
of man, they cannot be excluded from any reli
gion, which professes to be suitable to a being con
stituted as man is.
And the same mode of argument may be pursued
with regard to the mysterious rite of Sacrifice. Whe
ther the sense which Man naturally had of his inabi
lity to purify his own nature, and restore himself to
God's favor, originated some vague notion of sacri
fice — or whether (which I incline to think to be
the truth) — the deficiency of moral purity, and of
spiritual power, was made known by God to Man,
and sacrifice was an instituted type and memorial of
man's restoration by a Mighty Saviour and Purifier
to be hereafter revealed ; — in either case, the fact
is undeniable, that Sacrifice has been universal : that
the notion seems suitable to the Human mind : and
the argument is conclusive that a Religion suitable to
Beings constituted as men are, must acknowledge
some such truth.1
In the profound work of Bishop Butler, on the
" Analogy of Religion Natural and Revealed to the
constitution and course of nature," this argument is
greatly illustrated : and the Sacrifice of Christ,.
1 The same conclusion may also be drawn even by those who
admit either Warburton's or Taylor's Theory of Sacrifice. The
fact is the same, how greatly soever the explanation may vary.

190 THE DISSERTATION.
" offered once for all," is defended in a way in
which, I think, no person of competent understand
ing will fail to see force. And I cannot too strongly
recommend the perusal of the whole chapter " on
the Appointment of a Mediator and Redeemer."
This is, indeed, the distinctive doctrine of our Reli
gion ; Redemption effected by the Mediation of
Christ; and I am convinced that whoever will think
deeply about it, will find in it a peculiar suitability to
the constitution of human nature. And, therefore, I
do not dwell on the other characteristics (Moral and
Spiritual) of the Christian System; as the doctrine of
Mediation is its main feature. Indeed, if it were
not so, I think that Christianity could not be re
ceived as a Religion suitable to man. For it is
plain, that man by his very constitution requires
some such doctrine as this ; since every religion
which has prevailed in the world acknowledges it,
in some way.
But the suitability of the Doctrine of Christ's
Mediation,1 to the constitution of man, is no theo
retical truth. It may be decided by the powerful tests
of fact and experience. After a trial of 1800 years,
it surely cannot be difficult to decide, whether the
Chief Doctrine of our Faith be suitable to men, or
not. It is a practical, historic, question. What has'
been the effect of this Doctrine on those who have
heartily received it ?
Now, without entering into the question of the
1 I use the term " Mediation" in a generic sense — including the
whole work of Christ's intervention on man's behalf.

THE DISSERTATION. 191
cause of this effect, I simply state the fact itself —
That the cordial reception of this doctrine has been
strikingly accompanied, in every age and country,
by a renovation of the heart and mind of man.
It invariably calls into life and action the best feel
ings, and holiest sympathies of the human soul. The
effect thus wrought upon the whole human constitution
is as extensive, as it is inexplicable ; and establishes
most fully the point for which I have been con
tending. Wherever the doctrine of Reconciliation \
to God by Christ has been received — the Soul
of Man has been thrilled as it were with a fresh
vitality. — It has vibrated, like a newly-strung harp,
whereon some heavenly harmony has been struck,
by the hand of a master, which all can feel, but none I
can fully comprehend !
It would not be difficult still further to shew the
suitability of Christianity to the constitution of
Human Beings, by an induction of its other principal
doctrines — Regeneration — Repentance — Faith, &c.
For it surely admits of proof, that a Religion without
such doctrines would not be a Religion suitable to
the Constitution of Man; and, therefore, on each
point, a distinct argument might be raised. But the
object of this Dissertation is perhaps to a great
extent attained by the General Arguments now set
forth. Whoever may wish further to pursue snch
Arguments as those to which I now allude, may
find assistance in the Sermons of Bishop Butler and
in Dr. Chalmer's Bridgewater Treatise.
I here conclude with that sublime summary which

192 THE DISSERTATION".
St. John in the Apocalypse has given, (not simply
of the doctrine of Causation — but of all Theology)
which is — if I may so say — the key to the whole
Argument of this Discourse ; " 'Eyw fi/*i to A, xan to
£1, r, ap%ri xxi ro riXos, 'o irfuros xoa 0 iir%oiro; ! — God
himself is both the " First Cause," and the " Final
Cause," of the whole Universe of Intelligent Being.

193

SECTION III.
Of Truths of Reason.
Having now concluded our General Argument by
illustrating the position — That the Christian Reli
gion is peculiarly adapted to the constitution and
condition of Man ; so that it may even be
regarded as the " Final Cause " of the human mind ;
let us proceed, finally, to enquire — Whether the
Chief Truths of Revelation must not be considered
as Truths of the highest class — i. e., " eternal and
necessary Truths of Reason?"1 In this Enquiry,
which is supplementary to, though not necessarily
connected with, our whole Argument, it will be
allowable to take what has been thus far proved, as
established Truth, from which we may safely argue.
At the beginning of this Dissertation, I attempted
to point out the distinction between " Truths of
Reason," and " Truths of Understanding,"2 which
distinction, though long since admitted in Germany,
was not familiar to English Metaphysicians, until it
was vindicated by Coleridge. " The Understanding,"
(says Coleridge) " in all its Judgments, refers to
" some other faculty— as its Ultimate Authority" —
1 See page 42, where I classed together mathematical, moral,
and religious Truths, as equally " eternal and necessary."
4 See pp. 41, 42 &c. — see also note E.
O

194 THE DISSERTATION.
which figurative way of speaking may be thus trans
lated : When the Mind of a Man has performed an
Act of Judgment " according to sense," and when
he has reflected on that Judgment, he compares it
with a certain internal Standard by which he decides
the right and the wrong — the true and the false —
the just and the unjust. And that inward process
is an act of pure Reason.
The subordinate character of an act of Understand'
ing to an act of Reason, is plain, for instance, from
the fact — that in Understanding anything we do not
pronounce any Rational or Moral decision concernr
ing it. " Reason," says Hooker, " is a direct aspect
" of Truth; an inward beholding; having a similar
" relation to the Intelligible or Spiritual, as sense has
" to the Material, or Phenomenal."1 From "which it
would appear, that Truths of Reason are (if I may
so express it) of an a. priori, and Truths of Under
standing of an a. posteriori character. We may
hence see the absurdity of expecting any " Ar*
guments" (strictly so called) to establish a Truth
of Reason. For Argument is a process of Under
standing, and can only conduct us to Truths of
Understanding, which are within the province of
Sense and Experience. We have seen .that no
Arguments, yet adduced, have been able to establish
the First Truths of Theology ; but this can be ac
counted for, at once, if it be admitted, that they
are not Truths of Understanding. It is, indeedj
exactly what might have been expected. If they
could be brought to the Test of Sense or Experience,
1 Quoted in the Aids to Reflection, p. 214.

THE DISSERTATION. 195
they might doubtless be capable of proof by Argu
ment ; but in this case there would surely1 ba no
need of a Revelation to make them known. I, there
fore, cannot but consider the very phrase, for in
stance — " Argument for the being of God" — (so far
as it is intelligible) — to be a kind of blasphemy; it
degrades the Truth of the Divine Existence, by sup
posing that it may be discerned, and judged of, and
argued about, as a Truth of Understanding. To
suppose the possibility of " An Argument for the
being of God," is to suppose Infinite Perfection to
* be reducible to the finite forms of sense.
But further : All that has been brought forward in
the foregoing Arguments to shew the want of a
revelation, may bevconsidered as proving the sub
ject matter of Revelation (viz. Religious Truths) — to
belong to the class of Truths not discoverable by the
Human Understanding. There could be no need of a
Revelation to make known " Truths of Sense."
Revealed Truths must, therefore, necessarily be
Truths of a higher class. The Truths of Sense, or
Understanding, are inseparable from the forms of
space and time. The higher Truths (i. e. Truths of
Reason) are not so — and are therefore esteemed " ne
cessary and eternal." Since therefore Revealed
Truths must be superior to " Truths of Sense," they
are " necessary and eternal."
And, indeed, the very nature of the Revealed
Truths will shew us, that if Truths at all they must
be immutable " Truths of Reason." If there be a
.God— can we without irrational profanity deny that
o 2

196 THE DISSERTATION.
the truth of his being is an Eternal and Necessary
Truth ?
The fundamental doctrines of our Religion are
contained in this statement- — " There is one God ; and
one Mediator between God and man — the Man,
Christ Jesus." If these propositions be true at all,
their Truth cannot be limited by those modes of con
ception which may be peculiar to finite Intelligences.
And if they are not so limited, they cannot be consi
dered as Truths of Understanding, but must even be
regarded as unchangeable Truths of Reason.
It may be objected — that if Religious Truths were
Truths of Reason, there would not be such diversity
of opinion concerning them ; for a priori Truth
would commend itself at once to every mind, and the
denial of it would involve a plain contradiction. —
But this objection assumes the very point in dispute.
It assumes, that the human mind is capable of per
ceiving all Truths of Reason by Intuition, and does
not stand in any need of Revelation. And until this
assumption be proved, the objection, founded upon
it, cannot be considered valid.
And further: — It is very possible, that it may be
the exclusive prerogative of a higher order of Intel
lect than Man's to perceive the a. priori necessity of
certain Revealed Truths of Reason — which, to us,
may be matters of faith. I say, it is very possible,
(and this possibility is sufficient to obviate the force
of the objection, as such), that a higher order of
Intelligence than ours (which may see farther into
the arcana of Moral and Intellectual being ^han we

THE DISSERTATION. 197
can) may fully perceive, for instance, the Revealed
Doctrine of Atonement,1 to be a Necessary and Eter
nal Truth of Reason— just as plainly as the Mind
of Man perceives the immutable necessity of the
Truth, 2 + 2=4.
Let it be observed, that those Truths of Reason/
which the Mind of Man intuitively perceives, refer?
rather to the possible Relations of Being, than to \
Being itself. I think it will not be denied, that the i
possible Relations of Being are, in modo concipi-
endi, prior to, and independent of, Being itself — '
(seep. 170.)— Now, Religious and Moral Truths i
may be defined as the possible and actual Relations i
of Religious and Moral Being ; therefore, their j
priority and independency cannot be consistently i
denied.2 And this admission of the Anteriority of"7
Religious Truth, to all Sensible Truth, is exactly
equivalent to our first assertion. — That the Truths of
.Religion are not Truths of Understanding, but of
Ep. Hebrews ix. 22, y(up"i aifianxxvaia*; « ymrai atpeo-i*;.
8 This may be in some degree illustrated and confirmed by the
following sentences of Dr. Chalmers's Bridgwater Treatise (chap. I.,
on the Supremacy of Conscience.) " The virtuousness of justice
" was a stable doctrine in Ethical Science anterior to the existence
" of the Species ; and would remain so, though the Species were
"destroyed — just as much as the properties of a triangle are the
" enduring stabilities of Mathematical science ; and that though no
" matter had been created to exemplify the positions or the figures
" of Geometry."——" Virtue is not the creation of the Divine
" Will, but has had everlasting residence in the nature of the God-
" head." — See pp. 58 and 59, Vol. I. The truth of these positions
depends on this statement. — That the possible Relations of Being
must be conceived of as prior to being itself; " iii modo con-
cipiendi.")

198 THE DISSERTATION.
Reason ; and consequently cannot be arrived at by
Argument, but must be known by Revelation, unless
they are perceived intuitively.
In conformity with this conclusion are the words
of the great Apostle.1 " The Natural Man (i.e. Man's
" Natural Understanding) receiveth not the things
" of the Spirit of God ; for they are foolishness
" unto him ; neither can he know them ; because they
" are spiritually discerned :" Which spiritual discern
ing can only result from the elevation and spiritu
alizing of the Mind of Man. This we are distinctly
informed in the Christian Revelation ; and it is
indeed a plain deduction from the premises. For
since all truths of Reason are '*' spiritually dis
cerned" — those Truths of Reason which are not
intuitively perceived, but are revealed, will not be
rightly apprehended, unless the Mind of Man be
prepared to receive them ; i. e. unless it be brought
up to the level of the Truths placed before it. And
this, if the expression be allowable, may be consi
dered as the rationale of the whole Christian doctrine
of Regeneration and Renovation of Character ; which
is declared to be essential for acceptance with God,
. and for a right reception of his Revealed Truth.
From which it may be seen that a Revelation of
Eternal Truth, without a corresponding regeneration
or renewing of the Mind of Man, to render it capable
of rightly receiving it, would not accomplish any
important end.
It will now be evident in what sense, and on what
1 £p. I, Corinthians, ii. 14.

THE DISSERTATION. 199
grounds, I assert the Truths of Revelation to be
necessary Truths of Reason " Spiritually discerned,
i. e. not cognizable by Sense." A fuller defence of
this statement might perhaps be considered by some
to be out of place in this Dissertation ; and its own
importance might well demand a distinct Treatise
upon it. The defence of this position would per
haps be little more than a development of the prin
ciple already laid down — That " the possible Rela
tions of Being are to be conceived of as prior to
Being itself."
It might throw light on this subject to compare
the sentiments of Plato concerning " Eternal forms,"
and " Universals," with those of Berkeley, Cudworth,
Kant, and Coleridge among the moderns, concerning
those Truths which the Mind directly perceives as
necessary and immutable Truths of Reason. The
doctrine of Plato, as laid down both in the Timaeus
and the Parmenides, corresponds to a great extent, if
not altogether, with what has been now maintained
concerning the " possible Relations of Being," whe
ther sensible or intelligent.
An able commentator on Aristotle, in illustrating
the sixth chapter of the first book of the Ethics,
writes thus : — " Neque semper verum est ' Aristidis
justitiam esse virtutem,' non enim semper est Aris-
tides : at semper verum, ' Justitiam esse Virtutem.'
Hoc intuens, Plato statuit rx xaOoAa sola proprie
" esse," atque idcirco esse irparas xo-ixg xxi pd\\qx
aWaf, &c." And this exactly accords with what was
premised in the Exordium of this Discourse, and
what has been since stated concerning Truths of

200 THE DISSERTATION.
Reason. Those philosophers, indeed, who, from
Protagoras downwards, have most strongly denied the
existence of Eternal and Immutable Truths, and
have constructed their Ethical and Religious Systems
on the principle, that all truths are relative, and
that our notions of right and wrong, just and unjust,
&c, are derived from positive institution, have not
always been able even to complete their systems,
without tacitly assuming that which they denied.
Thus there is a contradiction, unless I greatly err,
between Aristotle's professed rejection of Immutable
Truth, and the spirit and tone of the whole of
his matchless Treatise of Morals. He plainly assumes
the existence and Truth of a Moral Constitution in
Man ; and all his conclusions depend^n the reality
and certainty of his premises ; but surely that
reality and certainty cannot be admitted without
giving up the notion that Moral Truth is a merely
conventional thing — or that the whole Moral Consti
tution of Man is the pure result of habit. And yet in
the opening of his work, Aristotle affirms — " rx Si
xxXx xxi rx Stxx'x 7te/h m> w iroXinxn e:x<.irurx\. roirx\irnv
£p££l SlXtpOfXV XXI TfXxVTlV Uf£ SoXllV VOfJ-'ji fJUOVOV llvXl, 0U(T£l St
fArif And further on, he attacks the doctrine of Plato
concerning " Universals."1 But I have exceeded, I
fear, the proper limits of this discussion, and here
come to a close in the words of Dr. Cudworth :2 —
" If the noetical perceptions of the Soul were only
phantastical and did not extend to the comprehen
sion of the absolute Truth of things, then every opi-
' See also the fifth book, especially on Political Justice.
5 See Cud worth's Eternal and Immutable Morality p. 268-

THE DISSERTATION. 201
nion would of necessity be alike true, neither could
there be any absolute falsehood in any, because
every fancy is true,1 i. e. every fancy is a fancy, or
an appearance, and nothing more is required to it;
for absolute Truth belongs not to the nature of it.
But it is evident to all who are not sunk and degene
rated below men into brutish sottishness that there
are false opinions ; whence it follows undeniably
that the Noetical Knowing and Intellective Power
extends to the Absolute Truth of things. So that
whatever Theoretical Universal Proposition in Geo
metry or Metaphysics is true to one Mind — the same
is absolutely true in itself, and therefore true to all
minds whatsoever throughout the whole world, that
clearly understand it.e
" Wherefore, though the immediate objects of
knowledge which are the Intelligible Essences of
things, and their Relations to one another, or Veri
ties, exist no where but in minds, yet notwithstand
ing they are not figments of the mind ; because then
every opinion or cogitation would be alike true ; i. e.
a true figment, having no other truth but relative to
that particular mind whose figment it is ; but these
things have an absolute and immutable nature in
themselves, and their mutual respects to one another
are alike immutable. And, therefore, those opinions
and cogitations of the mind which are not conform
able to the immutable Reality of those objective
1 tiaaa. Qairouria. Iriv aXufta;.
2 The readers of Cudworth should bear in mind that the words
" Understand" and " Understanding" are used by him in the same
sense as Coleridge and others (whom we have followed) use Reason
and Reasoning,

202 THE DISSERTATION.
ideas, have an absolute falsehood in them. As for
example, the nature of a triangle, is an immutable
thing, and this is demonstrable of it, as immutably
and necessarily true, that it hath three angles equal to
two right ones ; neither can any man's opinion or
thinking make it otherwise : for it is a false opinion
unless it be agreeable to the immutable nature of a
triangle. So likewise the plain regular Geometrical
Solids, as such, have an immutable Nature or Essence :
and it is demonstrable of them that there are five
such bodies, and that there can be no more : And
any opinion to the contrary will be an absolute
falsehood. Wherefore, every opinion, or thinking, is
not knowledge ; but only a right opinion : and there
fore knowledge is not relative wjo? to xplvov, as Sense
is. Truth is the most nnbending and uncompliable,
the most necessary, firm, immutable, and adamantine
thing in the world."

THE END.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

Note A. p. 22.
After the various reviews which have appeared, of Lord
Brougham's Discourse of Natural Theology, it may seem superfluous
again to call special attention to it, by this Note. But no review
which I have seen has exposed the Ant i- Christian tendency of that
volume ; and I am not without hope that these remarks may call
forth, from some able pen, such an exposure.
Judging from the " Evidences of the Design" of Lord Brough
am's book, I should conclude, that it was intended to show, that a
Revelation was superfluous. I cannot be diverted from this
conclusion, by the occasional allusions which he makes to the Chris
tian Religion. They rather tend to strengthen my belief in the
Infidel tendency of his Lordship's Discourse; for even his most dis
tant allusions to Christianity and its defenders generally, convey a
sneer, a doubt, or a censure. If there be such an art as what Pope
called " damning withfaintpraise,"Lord Broughammust be admitted
to he a complete master of it; as well as of a cognate art of ' praising
by faint censure.' When, in " The Discourse," a reference is made
to any of the great Champions of our Faith, it is almost invariably
in disparaging terms. When, on the contrary, such writers as Hume
and Voltaire are alluded to, their faults are extenuated and their
literary merits greatly exaggerated (see p. 233, &c).
I cannot think, for example, that it is a mere love of accurate
expression which makes Lord Brougham (p. 6), upbraid Bishop
Butler with incorrectness for using the words " Theology" and
" Religion," as synonymous ; because I find that his Lordship is
himself guilty of this very inaccuracy in p. 205 of his discourse ; —
when he says that " Revelation cannot be true if Natural Religion
is false;" — which sentence is meant to be a continuation of the
Argument of the preceding page, which is for Natural Theology,

206" APPENDIX.
and not for Natural Religion. But Bishop Butler is by no means the
only Christian writer whom Lord Brougham would convict of inac
curacy. " Clarke, Bentley, and Derham" seem to be considered
equally guilty. Bentley, indeed, does not escape merely with this
censure, but is further rebuked, with some degree of feeling, for " his
Sermon or rather Vituperation against Infidels," (see p. 202.) and
Soame Jenyns' " injudicious defence of Christianity," is men
tioned with ineffable contempt.
The underrating of Dr. Paley is ridiculously extreme, in a dis
course professedly introductory to one of the works of that divine.
His Lordship does not hesitate to denounce the Reverend Arch
deacon, for positive " incapacity for metaphysical researches;"
(see p. 80) and represents him as little better than an elegant
copyist — who had but " little of scientific habits," and a " mo
derate power of generalizing !" Now, admitting the unjusti
fiable idolatry of Paley, which has been prevalent in this country,
it must surely be owned that Lord Brougham might have expressed
himself in terms rather more moderate than these. If he had been
more cautious, his motive might have been less apparent for his
extreme disparagement of an eloquent and successful Christian
Author. But turning for a moment from his Lordship's sneers at " even
zealous" Christians (see p. 202), is it not singular to find that,
while professedly refuting the unblushing Atheism of the Baron
d'Holbach's Systeme de la Nature, he makes room for flattery of
Infidel genius?
" It is impossible," says Lord Brougham, " to deny the merits of
" the Systeme de la Nature." (See p. 233) And yet immediately
afterwards he is obliged to confess that its chief merit consisted in
its " extraordinary eloquence ;" and that as a " piece of Reason-
" ing it never rises above a set of plausible sophisms !" I conceive
that Voltaire (of whose writings Lord Brougham appears to have
made abundant use), was, at least, as good a judge of French
composition as his Lordship ; and it is somewhat singular that
it is the " style and composition" of this book which Voltaire
singles out for especial condemnation !
In the Review of some of Hume's opinions in note v. p. 248, the
Deistical bias of his Lordshipis even more apparent. The coolness

APPENDIX. 207
with which he comments on Hume's attacks on Revelation, presents
a singular contrast to the zeal with which he defends " Natural
Religion." It must be noted, that when Lord Brougham speaks of
" Religion," his observations apply to that Natural System which
the DeistS'are so anxious to maintain ; and yet I do not doubt that
his Lordship's Defence of " Religion" in some passages of his Dis
course, has passed for piety with many of his Readers.
It happened that that part of Lord Brougham's Discourse in which
he betrays an awkward kind of admiration for Voltaire, came under my
notice just as I had finished perusing the Atheistic ribaldry of that
writer's tract, entitled " Songe de Platon." They who are ac
quainted with that impious production will sympathise with mv
feelings of disgust, on meeting with the anecdote which Lord
Brougham records, of Voltaire's " excess of religious principle."
I have observed with pain that among all the Critics who have
reviewed Lord Brougham's book, not one seems to have exposed that
Deistical spirit which pervades it from first to last. Some have
noticed his style — some his logic — some his philosophy — none his
species of Religion. I am not aware, for instance, that so palpable a
fact as the following has been yet noticed. — That he invariably
speaks of " Christians " merely as parties in a Theological Argu
ment ; and never once associates himself with them, or their opi
nions — even by the general term " we." I repeat, I do not think
it has once escaped him.
The words" Deist" and " Theist," are, strictly speaking, perhaps,
synonymous ; but yet it is generally to be observed that the former.
is used in a bad, and the latter in a good, sense. Custom has appro
priated the term " Deist" to the enemies of all Revelations and of
Christianity in particular. While the word Theist is considered
applicable to all who believe in One God. Now Lord Brougham
seems anxious to get rid of the obnoxious term Deist — that he may
shelter his opinions in the generality of the most fashionable " Theist. '
Accordingly, when his Lordship had occasion to quote the preamble
to the Boyle Lectures, he professes to give the exact words thus:—
" The subject of the eight Sermons is to be in the words of the
"Kill." " The proof of the Christian Religion against notorious Infi
dels, Atheists, Theists, &c." (see p. 201.) Whoever will turn to the
lectures will find that these are not the exact " words of the will."

208 ai-fendix.
The term there employed is '* Deists." Is it very creditable to any
writer to descend to this species of dishonesty ? or is it difficult to
perceive the reason of this great tenderness for Deism ?
On the general arguments of the " Discourse," I cannot in this
place enter. They must be admitted, however, to be infinitely supe
rior to those of some of their pamphlet-critics ; who do not seem to
have always comprehended what they undertook to answer. The
Examiners of his Lordship's Metaphysics are singularly unfortunate,
as they have selected his very best and strongest points. It comes
as little within my province to criticise the affected diction and
pompous vocabulary of the Discourse. I own that I cannot see what
is gained by the new and laborious exposition of terms — or the novel
classification and arrangement of the Science with which his Lord
ship sets out. Simple-minded readers, perhaps, are apt to take all
this for precision of language and accuracy of thought ; and rest
contented in the belief that there must be in reality some great
discovery, and profound depth of thinking, where there are so many
learned words — such a formidable apparatus of Greek derivatives —
such manifold classifications — subdivisions — and analyses. I am
obliged to confess my own inability to perceive what Lord Brougham
has gained in point of accuracy, by this curious " psychological"
display. I find nothing in " the Discourse" which might not be as
clearly and fully expressed in the vulgar-tongue, as in his new
" deontological" dialect. There is, perhaps, ground to suspect, that
complaints of the obscurity of language and difficulty of expression
not unfrequently arise from obscurity of thinking.
The French Revolution was preceded and accompanied by the
writings of the Deistical philosophers, which undermined at once
the Loyalty, the Faith, and the Morals of the Nation. Are we
doomed in this, as in every thing else, to follow the fatal footsteps
of France ?

APPENDIX. 209

Note B. p. 62.
Lord Brougham (Disc. p. 248, &c.) has attempted to answer Mr.
Hume's argument against Natural Theology ; but with what suc
cess the Reader must judge. It appears to me that while Mr. Hume
confines himself to , demonstrating the insufficiency of the proof of
Natural Religion, he is unanswerable. (See note E.) And I leave
it to any reader to decide, whether the utmost that Lor J Bnugham's
answer amounts to is more than this — that Religion is not thereby
proved to be impossible ? I, for one, cannot see any more in it.
It has long seemed to me that considerable pains have been used,
to represent- Hume's opinions as a legitimate consequence of Berke
ley's : whereas the philosophy of Berkeley furnishes us with the true
key to the Liscovery of Hume's error. Hume denied the existence i
of Efficient Causes. Berkeley founded his whole system on the j
belief of them. Berkeley insisted on the necessity of an Intelligent-'
Efficient Cause for all the phenomena of nature. The opinions of
that dutinguished writer have been, however, almost systematically
distorted. In illustration of my meaning, I would select, for example, the
references toBerkeley which are to befound in Dr. Gillies' Translation
of Aristotle. Having quoted a passage from the Metaphysics, he
pronounces it to have answered by anticipation the " errors of Hume,
Hobbes, Berkeley, and others :" The gross unfairness and ignorance
of this style of criticism cannot easily be surpassed. Especially as
the very passage quoted may be interpreted in perfect accordance
with Berkeley's sentiments ; and is generally expressed even in
words which Berkeley himself might have written : " to pit iv pire
" T« xliSwra dial, /aute ra aiaSy/taTa, \cus a.\r,8ns' rs yxg aio-Javo^evB
" waflos thto sa-Tf to Je rot viroxiifi.it <a fin ihxi u. •jtoiii rriv ata$.Tr,»,
koWtoi>." The reason which Aristotle gives for the Existence of
something " beyond sense," " irepot n ntapa tijv atVSuo-iv,' is exactly
what Berkeley alleged for an Intelligent Cause of all things, " to
" y*$ xivav t« kivb/*evs <n$ori%m Ian." If this were the only passage
in which Dr. Gillies had betrayed both a want of fairness towards
those with whom he differs, and a want of knowledge on the sub-

210 APPENDIX.
jects which he professes to handle, I should not have selected it
thus. The opponents of Berkeley seem generally to have learned their
" objections" from one another ; as few of them betray many signs
of having read a single Treatise of that profound thinker. It has
long appeared to me, that the whole of the philosophical controversy,
in which Berkeley occupies so distinguished a position, may be
brought to this issue — Is that which we have called our " Fundamen
tal Axiom" — true or false ? viz., that " Whatever begins to be must
have a Cause? — And that, not an occult — blindly-working Cause,
(which is a contradiction), but an Intelligence ? Berkeley main
tained the truth of this axiom; and upon this his whole system may
be established. (See on this subject p. 73, &c, of this Dissertation ;
and some remarks in Professor Whewell's Bridgewater Treatise,
p. 365.
Dr. Reid was considered, at one time, by a certain class of philo
sophers, as the confuter and demolisher of Berkeley's doctrine. But
Dr. Brown has severely confuted this pretended confutation. Not
that Dr. Brown agrees with Berkeley ! — By no means! He has a
" Confutation," of his own making, perfectly ready, when he has
rejected Reid's. Therefore, leaving Reid in the hands of his able
opponent, we will see at what point Dr. Brown fancied that he
discovered a flaw in Berkeley's argument.
" Sic parvis componere magna" necesse est !
And I think the reader will be of opinion that as yet Berkeley has
not been answered.
I must give Dr. Brown the credit of boldly announcing
the unpopular truth that the imagined distinction between the
primary and secondary qualities of matter is a groundless dis
tinction. He seems, indeed, to think it absurd. " As if," he
exclaims, " any qualities of matter could become known to
" the mind, but as they are capable of affecting the Mind
" with certain feelings, and as relative therefore to the feelings
*' which they excite ;" — " but," he elsewhere remarks, with a
cool and amusing air of superiority, " the pious demonstration of
" Berkeley is obviated at once by affirming that ideas are only the
" mind affected iu a certain manner !" — [27th Lecture.] How is
this ? I ask. I do not myself see the cogency of the inference ; for
Berkeley himself lays down exactly what Brown here affirms, as a

appendix. 211
confutation of him ! But Berkeley further insisted, that when the
mind was " affected in a certain manner," (though he expressed
himself in rather better language than this) there must be some
Cause which so affects it, and Dr. Brown does not disprove this. He
mistakes Berkeley's opinion in toto by supposing that according to
him, " ideas had a distinct existence apart from the mind" — which
very hypothesis it was the labour of Berkeley's life to confute!

p2

212 appendix.

Note C. p. 104.
It is observable, that most of the disputes concerning Moral
Science regard the Origin rather than the Nature of Morality. On
which subject there are some interesting remarks in Dr. Chalmers's
Bridgewater Treatise, in the chapter on Miscellaneous Adap
tations. But I am inclined to believe that there is not so great a differ
ence, as is commonly imagined, even among the theories of (he
Origin of our moral ideas.
All men seem to agree that Morality has reference to some law
— which Law seems to be generally regarded as a stable, and not
an ever- vary ing thing. Thus, the Aristotelian would denominate
this Law; the General Intention or Law of Nature. The
Christian (meaning the same thing) would prefer to speak of it as
the Law of God ; or his Will. And since every law tending to
promote the good of a community is in harmony with the Intention
of Nature, every legislator might consider his own particular laws
(being adapted to the benefit of the state) to be binding on every
man in the state ; so that even the conventional morality of a state
has reference to Law ; which law will eventually be altered, if it
oppose the moral convictions of mankind.
The superiority of Christianity is manifested in the method
which it adopts to obtain conformity to this universally admitted
Law in Nature. Every particular philosopher would furnish such
means as were agreeable to his Moral Theory. The Aristotelian,
for instance, would rely on the disposition of a well-informed and
virtuous man. But not one-thousandth part of the human race
could ever become Moral by philosophic principles and means.
| Therefore Legislators, instead of trusting to these, enforce obedience
| to their Laws more effectually by means of the Fear of Punishment.
\ It must, however, be owned that in all means of this nature there is
j something of an ignoble and inferior kind ; which seems to interfere
I with that chief excellence of obedience. — pure voluntariness. Now,

appendix. 213
the means which Christianity furnishes, appear equally noble with .
the Philosopher's, equally extensive in influence with the Legisla
tor's. The Love of Gcd's LAW implanted in the heart of man is
the Christian means of Moral Obedience — noble enough for the sage
— and which may be universal enough for the world.

Note D.
It has been shown very fully by Eusebius, (Prep. Evan. 1. 10.)
by Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, and other early Christian
writers, that, in the words of Dr. Cave, " whatever ussful and
excellent notions the great masters of Religion amongst the
Heathen had amongst them, 'tis plain they borrowed, or more truly
stole them from the writings of the ancient Jews." Moses, indeed,
not only wrote many ages before their oldest Authors, Orpheus,
Homer, or Hesiod — but seems to be able to boast a higher antiquity
than even the Gods of the Classical Mythology. The English
reader may gather much on this subject from Dr. Cndworth, — See
also Dr. Hales' Analysis of Chronology. — vol. 4, p. 459, &c.

214 appendix.

Note E.

I quote the following from Coleridge to illustrate this point : —
" My sight and touch convey to me a certain impression, to
which my Understanding applies its preconceptions (conceptus,
antecedentes et generalissimi) of Quantity and Relation, and thus
refers it to the class and name of three-cornered bodies. We will
suppose it the iron of a turf-spade. It compares the sides, and
finds that any two measured as one are greater than the third ;
and according to a law of the imagination, there arises a presump
tion that in all other bodies of the same figure (i. e. three-cornered
and equilateral) the same proportion exists. After this, the senses
have been directed successively to a number of three-cornered
bodies of unequal sides — and in these too the same proportion has
been found without exception, till at length it becomes a fact of
experience, that in all triangles hitherto seen the two sides together
are greater than the third : and there will exist no ground or
analogy for anticipating an exception to a rule generalized from so
vast a number of particular instances. So far and no farther could
the Understanding carry us : and as far as this ( the faculty, judg
ing according to sense,' conducts many of the inferior animals,
if not in the same, yet in instances analogous and fully equivalent.
" The Reason supersedes the whole process, and on the first con
ception presented by the Understanding in consequence of the first
sight of a triangular figure of whatever sort it, might chance to
be, it affirms with an assurance incapable of future increase, with a
perfect certainly, that in all possible triangles any two of the in
closing lines will and must be greater than the third. In short.
Understanding in its highest form of experience, remains commen
surate with the experimental notices of the senses, from which it is
generalized. Reason, on the other hand, either predetermines
experience, or avails itself of a past experience to supersede its
necessity in all future time ; and affirms truths which no sense
could perceive, nor experiment verify, rior experience confirm." —
Aids to Reflection, p. 223.
This distinction between Truths of Reason and Truths of Under
standing will furnish the only conclusive answer to Mr. Hume'*
argument referred to in note B.

appendix. 215
Mr. Hume had denied that Man could obtain any knowledge of /
the Moral Governor of the Universe from the works of Nature — [
even if the theory of Causation were admitted; because we have )
no right to argue that any Cause is more than the alleged Effect ']
shows him to be. Therefore, if it could be proved that this Creation
was the work of some Mighty Superior Being, it would not from
thence follow that he was the Omnipotent Moral Governor of the
Universe. We cannot fairly argue that his power extends one hair's ;
breadth beyond that which we see that it has wrought. — Now this l
Argument cannot be answered by those who derive all our knowledge
from Sense. Therefore, if there be no Truths except empirical
Truths, if there be no truths except " Truths of Understanding" —
there can be no Religion ; for " Understanding in its highest form
of experience, remains commensurate with the experimental notices
of the senses from which it is generalized." '' The things that are
seen are temporal — the things that are not seen are Eternal." —
See also p. 195 of this volume.

2l6 appendix.

Note F. — Miscellaneous.
Page 1. — I would not by my opening observation be thought to
imply any belief in the modern theories of human perfectibility.
In speaking of the " progress of human society," I allude only to
that amount of civilized advancement which may be proved by the
facts of history; and I conceive that I might on other occasions
with equal propriety speak of the " retrograde of the human
species," at different times, and under various circumstances. The
theory that civilization has arisen out of primeval barbarism is
contradicted by the facts of antiquity. Our present position does
not, as 1 conceive, furnishany analogical argument for the notion of
the perfectibility of man. I am not, indeed, distrustful of a
glorious final destiny in reserve for us — but I do not anticipate
that it will be accomplished by philosophising theorists, or idolators
of education. To all such I would apply the words of the Poet,
" You talk Utopia ! "
It is observable that almost every monarchy, before that of the
Roman Empire appears to have degraded the human race. The
spread of Christianity may partly account for the difference.
Page 2i>.—l cannot but take this opportunity of stating my
conviction that the restoration of the Chorepiscopi of the Ancient
Church, on some such plan as that alluded to by Mr. Newman of
Oriel in his pamphlet on the subject, would be attended with the
most salutary effects. I subjoin some remarks which I made some
time since through the medium of the periodical press.
" Our position as a church is materially affected by the late
alterations in the frame-work of the Constitution. A state of things
which under the old system might not have wrought serious
practical mischief, under the present system may bring total ruin
on the establishment. Our legislators and highest patrons may be
our worst foes! If our present condition is to be improved, it
must not be by a patchwork reform, to answer the exigencies of
the present moment — it must be by a vigorous and prospective
policy immediately commenced. The evil does not admit of delay

appendix. 217
Already almost we are fulfilling the description of the historian —
Nee vitia nostra, nee remedia paii possumus..
" A pamphlet has recently been put forth by Mr. Newman, Fel
low of Oriel College, Oxford, recommending the restoration of Suf
fragan Bishops; in which he has given a brief statement of ihe
nature and history of their office. We are disposed to believe that
no single measure which could be proposed would be productive
of such extensive advantage to the Church as that which Mr.
Newman here advocates.
" In the ancient church the bishoprics were not even compara
tively so large and populous as now ; and in proportion as a diocese
became populous, the metropolitan ordained chorepiscopoi, or
country bishops ; subsequently called 'suffragans' (probably from
their having a vote in councils with their metropolitans). For the
establishment of suffragan bishops, the sanction of antiquity may
be adduced, from the churches of Europe, Asia, and Africa, in their
earliest times ; and the urgent necessity for them in the present
day, among us, surely will not need demonstration. ' The burden
of this people,' a population of 20,000,000, is too great for our
bishops to bear alone. A diocese of 1,883,958, such as that of
Chester, or of 1,722,685, like that of London, is sufficient to over
whelm anyone man, even with its temporal business, to say nothing
of that which is the highest and most serious consideration — the
immense spiritual responsibility.
" There is one feature about Mr. Newman's pamphlet which we
feel bound, in times such as these, to single out for commendation.
There is throughout a tone of religious and loyal submission and
deference to the authority of the bishops of our apostolic church,
which forms a singular contrast to the prevalent language of the
day, even among the clergy. We hear too much of the ' readiness
of the clergy to co-operate with the bishops,' and too little of
their readiness to obey them as the delegates of Christ, who have
received their high authority from him to rule his church, and
who are responsible to him alone. That it is the duty of the
clergy to co-operate with the bishops is undeniable; but it is a
strange sign of the times that the clergy think it necessary in their
addresses to their spiritual rulers to inform them of this ! Far
different, however, is the tone of Mr. Newman, (though he has
ouce accidentally made use of the words which we have objected to;)

218 appendix.
there is a reverence for the bishop's high office and authority per
vading his pages, which we earnestly hope will prove contagious
among his brethren. We cannot forbear quoting the following
contrast from page 14, as illustrative of this point. Our readers
will see that the ' co-operation ' of the clergy is not men
tioned with that patronizing air which we have just complained
of. After alluding to the ' over-populousness ' of the dioceses, he
continues : —
" Such vast charges must be distressing even to the most vigour-
ous minds; oppressing them with a sense of responsibility, if not,
rather, engrossing, dissipating, and exhausting their minds with
the mere formal routine of business. If they are able to sustain
such duties, they are greater than the inspired lawgiver of Israel,
who said, ' 1 am not able to bear all this people alone, because
it is too heavy for me.' Nothing is more necessary to the Rulers
of the Church, than that they should have seasons of leisure. A
whirl of business is always unfavourable to depth and accuracy
of religious views. It is one chief end of the institution of the
ministerial order itself, that there should be men in the world
who have time to think apart from it, and live above it, in order
to influence those whose duties call them more directly into the
bustle of it. So much was this felt in early times, that places of
retreat were sometimes assigned to the Bishops at a distance from
their city, whither they were expected to betake themselves,
during certain seasons of the year, for the purpose of collecting
their minds. Doubtless such leisure may be abused, as every
thing else ; but so far is clear, that while leisure may become an
evil, an incessant hurry of successive engagements must be an
evil, a serious evil, to the whole Church, hurtful to any one, and
more than personally hurtful, dangerous to the common cause,
in the case of those who are by office guides of conduct, arbiters
in moral questions, patterns of holiness and wisdom, and not the
mere executive of a system which is ordered by prescribed rules,
and can go on without them. And when it is recollected that,
in addition to their ecclesiastical duties, our Prelates have their
place in the councils of the realm, most eneficially to the nation
(which, indeed, as a Christian people, is bound to uphold them
there,) not to mention the necessity of their meeting together

220 appendix.
that another bishop can deprive him of an authority so received.
In restoring these bishops, let the model of antiquity be imitated.
In temporal matters, let them, indeed, be subject to their metro
politans, but in spiritual matters let them be, as far as possible,
independent. " While we thus refer to antiquity, we are aware that a question
has been raised — whether there were not two kinds of ehorepis-
copoi in the ancient church ? And it has been argued from the
tenth canon of the Council of Antioch, that the office itself was not
episcopal though a bishop might hold and exercise it. Those who
would wish to see all that can be urged in defence of this untenable
hypothesis, we refer to the 44th Dissertation of Natal. Alexander,
on the History of the Fourth Century, in the 4th Volume of his
Ecclesiastical History. We will simply state that the whole of this
Jesuit's pretended demonstration, is founded on his own strained
inference from the word etiamsi, which occurs in the canon alluded
to. " In the note to page 41, Mr. Newman has suggested a subject
of inquiry, which we should like to see investigated — viz. How
the1 suffragans became suppressed in this country? It is suffi
ciently evident in history that the Metropolitans from the sixth
century at least, had been jealous of their influence, (and in the
ninth they were suppressed, by edict, in the Gallican church,) but
this is hardly sufficient to account for their total extinction in this
country." Page 80 — I would here refer to Soame Jenyns' Enquiry —
Bayle's Enquiry — and Abp. King's Origin of Evil. The chief
defenders of the hypothesis referred to in the Text are now to be
found among the Calvinists ; most of whose arguments may be
met with in St. Augustin, Aquinus, and Jansenius.
Page 103. The fundamental principles of Aristotle's inductive
method are; That Nature does nothing in vain. And, That the
real experience of Men, their arts, systems, (Eth. B. 1. c. 1.)
language, (c. 4.) actions and choices, are good and sufficient
data for a practical Treatise on human morals.
Page 120. " Compare, I beseech you, the consequences on both
sides. The world (say I,) resembles an animal.
Therefore, it is an animal.

APPENDIX. 221
Therefore, it arose from generation.
The steps, I confess, are wide ; yet there is some small appear
ance of analogy in each step.
-The world (say others) resembles a machine.
Therefore, it is a machine.
Therefore, it arose from design.
The steps are here equally wide; and the analogy less striking."
Hume's Dialogues. Nat. Rel. pp. 79, 181.
Page 148. I cannot forbear, in this place, from alluding to the
often-quoted disregard of Lord Bacon for the whole inquiry into
Final Causes ; which he half contemptuously declared to be
"dedicated to God, and barren like a vestal.'' Professor Whewell,
in his Bridgewater Treatise, has thus beautifully followed out the
doubtful metaphor of Bacon : —
" If he had had occasion to develope his simile, (full of eloquent
meaning as his similes often are) he would probably have said —
That to these Final Causes barrenness was no reproach ; seeing
that they ought to be not the mothers, but the daughters of our
Natural Sciences ; and that they were barren, not by the imperfec
tion of their nature, but in order that they might be kept pure
and undefined ; and as fit ministers in the temple of God."
Page 133, middle. — I am very far from acquiescing in this opin
ion, and only mention it to show that there could be no very clear
knowledge on the subject, if such an opinion could be for a moment
entertained, as it has been by men of some ingenuity. When in the
Parmenides, ro lv is said to be prior to va*. I understand it to mean
priority " in modo concipiendi," and not in the manner of existence.
Just as Dr. Clarke in his u Demonstration" conceives of the
"' necessary existence" of the Deity as prior to his " self-ex
istence" — though both are affirmed to be eternal. As, also, the
Church maintains the Eternal Generation of the Son of God, the
Second Hypostasis of the Trinity, though a kind of priority " in
modo concipiendi," be attributable to the Father.
Page 138.— Dr. Johnson in his Review of Soame Jcnyns, does
not scruple to admit the (redominance of Evil over Good in the
world.— On the whole subject of the dilemma of Epicurus concern
ing the Goodness and Power of God — see Tucker's Light oft
Nature. Page 159. — '¦' Although the Moderns teach that space is real

APPENDIX.

" and infinitely extended, yet if we consider that it is no intellec-
" tual notion, nor yet perceived by any of our senses, we shall,
" perhaps be inclined to think with Plato in his Timaeus, that this
" also is the result of a xoy/o-fto? »oSo;, or spurious reasoning, and a
" kind of waking dream." — Berkeley's Siris.

THOMAS CUHSON HANSARD, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

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C V-

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Ainslee, Rev. G., M.A., Emanuel College, Cambridge.
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