George Washington Flowers Memorial Collection DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY OF COLONEL FLOWERS r uz^mM^*^^ //o^ m* IT V 1 * r_- It is, therefore, worth while to search out the true powers of the set of words we employ to signify this sort of notions, what is or can be, meant by them, and endeavour to find the precise bounds of what we are capable of determinately comprehending, of this kind ; and of representing so discriminately that different persons can coincide in the conception. This is the principal scope of the present undertaking. This in- quiry is rather philological than physical. It is not an investigation of the nature of substances ; the scope is not to develope any new property of substantial ex- istence not hitherto recognized, nor to prove such ex- istence : but is concerned altogether with the propriety of the application of signs and of the forming of com- plex notions or ideas to be denoted by certain general words which, though very generally used, are not of very clear, conspicuous, and decided import, as seen in different discourses and heard from the mouths of the commonalty. For there is no question whether there is such a condition of the human mind as that which it is in at the moment when, a proposition being stated to it, it perceives more or less fully and dei< minately the ideas which the words contained in that proposition stand for, and embraces or rejects it : but in regard to that arbitrary action of the mind of man by which is determined the extent of certain select combinations of particular or elementary ideas, that are to he denoted by certain general terms, there "be a question how many particulars, and of what are included in that which was originally, and is now most generally limited, to he denoted by the word assent, or the word faith. There may arise, also, se- veral particular questions about these things. People of a certain class define faith in a way that may be deemed anomalous, though extensively receiv- ed without examination. They include in their defi- nition the idea of voluntary exertion ; and go to per- suade people they have at their option to believe or disbelieve. If when men first took into their heads to form or make out a complex notion and attach it to some certain word by which they consented in the design to have it uniformly denoted, such as a word answering or equivalent to our English word faith, belief, or assent, (which is a thing that would be found signally useful in the purposes of their intercourse, where there were frequent occasion to bring up such or such notices, in the process of their dealings or investi- gations.) they included in it the idea of voluntary exer- tion, and determined some degree of this sort of move- ment, such, at least, as incipient volition, should make an essential part of that notion — as if they should have said, the perception of the terms of a proposition, and a desire that it be received as true, and that the avouch- e: of the doctrine prosper and succeed well in the de- sign of propagating it, shall constitute what shall be meant and purported by this word — and he, therefore, that has a proposition or contexture of propositions presented clearly to his understanding, and he sincere- ly wishes that it were true, and wishes well to the party who delivers it, has then what is called faith — he believes that proposition or contexture of proposi- tions — he is a believer to all intents and purposes of the significancy of this word ; then, allowing no tho- rough change of the language having come about, the word retained its office in general customary use — it would be very proper to use the word in that sense now. This would be the propriety of its signification. But whether any one who is not a partizan, or acces- sary to the views of a party, uses it in such a sense, and whether there are not multitudes of seriously stu- dious persons who apply it to a quite different use, and wholly exclude from their idea of its meaning all notice of voluntary action, considering it a circum- stance utterly removed from volition, are questions that with great confidence may be brought up, upon the occasion of diversifying this significancy ; the way of settling which, will give rise to one or two others ; such as, for instance, what is. the meaning of an insin- cere profession of faith, in the case when a person declares, with all the marks of sincerity, that such or such a statement (having been made to him) may prove true, wishes well to the person who avouches it, de- sires others will receive it ; and at the same time, with no less indication of sincerity, declares he hisself can- not believe it, has doubts of it, and has not faith ? What can be the meaning of insincere, when, in such a case as this, a man is accused of insincerity of pro- fession in regard to belief — of not believing what he does believe, or believing to be not true what in his heart he actually believes to be true ? Besides investigating the nature of faith, we shall have occasion to reflect on the influence several ways of handling this idea have had on the affairs of human society : for if one man has esteemed faith a volunta- ry act and a duty, another a necessary act, and another no act at all ; and if of those who have taken it to be voluntary, one has entertained a direct contrary be- lief to that of another, there has been fighting between people on account of this very thing ; and different persons have fought and several have been killed, on account of some secret belief one has suspected to be in another. It is of important use, then, to determine the pro- per estimate of this thing ; and consider what con- nexions give it its weight and moment. For, whereas the belief of some propositions has great consequence in our thoughts and lives ; others yet are trivial, and whether we believe them or not, is indifferent. It will make a part of the business of the following dis- course to canvass several questions concerning the in- fluence and uses of faith, and the effects of different ways of defining it, as well as those which concern its nature. Some other considerations about faith, may be wor- thy of our attention, in their due places — such as the phenomena of its effects in its connection with parti- cular sorts of objects, or in certain instances of it. Let the reader bear in mind, if we can ascertain and determine what shall be meant by the word faith, we can readily discover how far we are capable of that thing which we call by that name; and also learn what are its proper objects. CHAPTER II. Of Faith in general. \l HEN the understanding of man is presented with a proposition setting forth the existence of things whereof it has no experience, it immediately exercises an act or emotion with respect to that proposition, wherein it acquiesces in that proposition or does not acquiesce in it. This acquiescence or not acquies- cence, is only a particular entertainment the mind gives that proposition at once. But the act of the un- derstanding, (if such it is to be called,) wherein its acquiescence or not acquiescence is implied, is called assent or dissent. Although the effect exhibited by the understanding's notice of a proposition is repre- sented by a word that is expressive of a free volunta- 1* 6 ry action ; yet it is no more than an act of necessity. The act of acquiescence in a proposition, called assent- ing to it, or of its rejection of it, is a necessary act. The mind is passive in respect to the effect a propo- sition thus proposed to its view, produces in it : and although we say the understanding performs an act in regard to such proposition, yet, more strictly perhaps to speak, it only receives an impression from it, and a certain change in its train of thought ; which, in the way, produces some emotions either slight or energet- ic, pleasant or unpleasant. If the proposition excites assent, the operation it brings about has greater ener- gy in it than when it does not produce assent : for in this latter case, the mind barely does not view it as a veritable one, and perceives that it does not agree with what it has experienced and known : wherefore it is not likely to produce much emotion of any kind. Whereas, if acquiescence follows the presentment, it receives an accession to its opinions, which may influ- ence, more or less, the voluntary thoughts and mo- tions of the persons to whom such proposition is ex- hibited. The emotion itself is governed by the nature of the proposition. If it be a pleasing report, and is believed, it produces joy and complacency. If an unpleasant one, and is believed, it produces the con- trary emotions. A proposition is a contexture of signs, determinately representing several ideas experienced by the relater and the hearer, and affirming or denying certain things to exist or to have existed : and a pro- position being presented to the understanding, implies that the understanding to which it is presented, has previous knowledge of the import of those signs. For if the proposition consist of any thing more than mere sounds, it cannot be said to be presented to the under- standing, unless the understanding perceives it : that is, perceives some determinate ideas, by virtue of something designed to represent them. This I speak after the manner of the world, on the principle thai propositions are conveyed by articulate sounds. Thus, in this particular condition, that of a proposi- tion coining within the notice of the understanding, — with respect to any exertion or operation in reference to that proposition, we are all necessary agents. When a proposition is presented to the understanding, it ac- quiesces in it or does not acquiesce in it. At the in- stant a proposition is perceived and apprehended by it, it must of necessity either assent to or dissent from it. When I am told that a vessel has at a certain time sunk, sixty miles at sea, I can no more avoid either be- lieving or disbelieving it than, when my eyes are open, I can avoid seeing the rays of the lamp that is actually before me. Admit I believe it: yet, after further in- quiry concerning the thing, I may have attained such discoveries of the grounds that this proposition rests upon, as make so complete a revolution in my views, that I can no more avoid disbelieving it. Or, on the contrary, my discoveries may be such as to confirm and make my belief stronger, and approach nearer to perfect assurance. Signs are of two sorts : First — Such as we use to denote ideas that we have in our minds, to other intelligent creatures who can have no actual aspection of them : such as 1. Articulate sounds, called words ; 2. Characters and marks impressed on sensible sur- faces, which are mostly called words, being the im- mediate signs of words : though what are called hieroglyphics have formerly been much in use for this purpose, and some nations make use of them at this day. In these the colour is sometimes made to signify something. These are emblematical re- presentatives of the things to which we refer, and each has the power of signifying an intire idea : whereas it often requires several w r ords ; 8 3. Those artful turns and changes in movement, we employ to signify ideas, without any sounds or cha- racters, commonly called gesture or action, in ora- tory ; but they are used where sounds could do no execution at all, as in conversing w r ith deaf people. All these are called signs of ideas. But those which are far most common and extensively used, are words, either spoken, or represented to the eye. Secondly — Ideas are called signs : i. e. signs of things really existing, separate from, and independent on the mind. So a proposition may be either verbal or mental. It may be delivered to me by another, through the instrumentality of words, either orally or by written or impressed tokens of them on paper, so that I shall receive the first notices of it from my ear or eye ; or it may be suggested to me by any of my trains of thought, either those of imagination, me- mory, or volition ; in this latter case, it is a purely mental proposition. And when one distinctly per- ceives any number of determinate ideas represent- ing the existence of things without — sufficient to pre- dicate one thing of another, and that seem fit to be joined or disjoined, and that therefore are joined or disjoined, then is* a proposition presented to his under- standing. The result is a necessary effect, which, by- whatever name it is commonly called, is the designed object of our meditation at this time. It will scarce be denied, that some consequence does follow, and some impression is made on the mind, which is some change either temporary or lasting, small or great, that takes place in the operations that are going on there : and, for a general name, it may aptly enough be called acquiescence or not acquies- cense ; assent or dissent. By other words, this effect produced in the understanding of mankind by the pre- sentment of a proposition, is called belief or disbelief. Sometimes belief is called faith ; which can primarily mean nothing but assent, though in process of us; _ something else is tacked to that idea, v. g. some moral quality or incident, as confidence, patience, or some- thing else ; and faith is made to signify a compounded idea of various sorts of things, or else used sometimes to signify one idea and sometimes another. This is the way we are apt to talk of assent or faith, or rather of that state of mind, whatever it is made up of, or is most distinguished by, which follows the no- tice of an assertion, either express or tacit ; when, led by the clue of our natural light and use of our facul- ties according to common reasoning, we would talk impartially. But whether this thing I have been men- tioning, be precisely that which the bulk of those who speak of the subject constantly and unitedly signify by any of these words — faith, assent, belief, disbelief, or the like — is a question not easy to answer, because many words are vaguely applied. Yet, if I choose to use one of these words for the signifying of this idea, and I give notice of my intention, I suppose I have a right to do so. There is a question whether faith is an operation op not : whether it can correctly be called an act, even excluding the idea of voluntary effort. Action may precede and follow ; but whether, in itself, faith has any glimpse of action of any sort, or not, is a question. Although we are apt to suppose faith to be an opera- tion, it is rather a varied condition, posture, condi- tional attitude, of the mind, made up of relation to other things, wherein is a reference to a definite propo- sition, and to the previous condition of the mind, wherefrom it is shifted. With respect to the proposi- tion, it acquiesces in it and entertains it with a view of the likeliness of the asserted habitude of its terms or parts : and with respect to the other, it has not the same view of the contrary proposition, but sees it with a dif- ferent degree of probability than it had in view before. It is a circumstance that is inseparably attendant on the perception of a preponderance or a balance of probabili- 10 This is all that this accident of mind consists in, whether we call it assent or acquiescence. We say it is grounded on probability : which it is no otherwise than he idea or view or discovery of the appearance of a certain measure or degree of probability • or, that appearance cannot be, but that this instantaneously en- sues. I say varied condition, for these reasons ; 1. There is a necessary change supervening to our intellectual affairs immediately consequent to a new proposition being disclosed to view, and thus the con- dition of the mind is varied from what it was. 2. There are several degrees of stability and determinateness to our entertainment of a proposition with acceptance, from which we are liable to waver more or less — and the view 7 of it is generally liable to be varied by suc- cessive discoveries. The word faith has had various meanings, and has now* at this day. Sometimes it denotes veracity, •sometimes trustiness, sometimes fidelity and constancy in the serving of one's interest to whom there is an attachment or engagement. But I think the word more frequently is applied to the idea of credence giv- en to propositions concerning things very remote from our exploration. Sometimes hope is joined to belief to make up an idea that is to be signified by this word. — But what I call faith, is the condition of mind in which it assents to a proposition : in describing which condition, several particular incidents are to be noted. Here I use faith as a general term, compre- hending all degrees and varieties of favourable and complacent entertainment of a proposition fairly un- derstood : for when a proposition is not understood, it does not seem to be exhibited and proposed to the understanding at all. Whether the proposition comes from heaven or earth, by means of words written or spoken ; through the senses ; or from the though? a man's own heart ; and whatever the proposition be, whether of things remote or near, past, present, oi 11 ture, visible or invisible ; a certain effect follows the recognition of it in his consciousness, and this effect, if it be not knowledge, is constituted of certain relations or habitudes of things perceived or supposed, where- upon if the mind acquiesce in or accept the proposi- tion to the rejection of the contradictory one, or does not acquiesce in or accept the contradictory one to the rejection of this, — this posture of mind in reference to the given proposition, I call faith. That complex notion to which I assign this word faith, as an abstract term, is made up out of the follow- ing constituent ideas : 1. The perception of a proposition stated for accept- ance. 2. The perception or idea of the exact contrary pro- position. 3. The peculiar relation existing between the pre- vailing notices of the mind resulting from its usual experience, and one of these propositions. 4. Peculiar relation between the same subject and the other proposition ; which is tKe same as the ref- lation of the other proposition to the state of the mind immediately previous to a perception of it. — For the relation of a proposition to the state of mind fro?n which it is changed by the introduction of this proposition, must be one and the same thing with a relation of the contradictory proposition to the state of the mind to which it is changed by in- troduction of this proposition. These constitute what I denote by the word faith. The parts of a proposition are called terms. They are signs. They consist of ideas or words, or both. If the proposition is verbal, i. e. stated by words, a word is called a term inclusive of what it re- presents. If without words, the terms are ideas only. The terms of a proposition are the principal parts of it : — as the thing of which any thing is affirmed or de- nied, and the thins: affirmed or denied of it, are. called 12 terms. One is called the subject ; the other the pre- dicate. That which has any thing affirmed or denied of it, is the subject ; and that which is affirmed or de- nied of it, is the predicate. For example — God is love. God is the subject, and love is the predicate : because the idea we denote by the word love, is affirmatively predicated of that we denote by the word God : for they are but ideas by which one is affirmed of another, and it means only that the idea of love is contained in the idea of God. Not that it is a trifling proposition importing that, of two words one idea may be signi- fied by either, they being of the same meaning,— such as rouge is red, Dick is Richard, &c. but that the idea of God is a complex idea representing a real being which has several properties, and the quality or affection named love, makes a part of it. This is more perspicuous- ly explicable when adjective-words are employed in affirmations. When one idea is affirmed of another, one of them must be a complex idea, and the other, if it be complex, must be less in its extent. But when one is denied of the other, they may be both simple ideas : as white is not red. To form a proposition, signs must be joined or disjoined. The terms must be joined or disjoined ; the other signs are used instru- mentally in this purpose. This is affirming or deny- ing. By joining we affirm, and by disjoining we de- ny. And when signs joined or disjoined are stipu- lated to a rational mind, in affirmation or negation, as fit objects to be accepted or rejected, either acceptance or not acceptance instantaneously follows. If the stipu- lation be accepted, and admitted with satisfaction, the mind's acquiescing in it, I call faith, of some degree. If this takes place, it is because, what ? — because the ?ninq! has a view of a likeliness to agree — i. e. what are so proposed, to agree or disagree as stated ; and like- wise in conformity to the like agreement or disagree- ment in the reality of things existing, if the proposi- tion relate to things without. Likeliness to agree or 13 disagree, or likeliness to be true, is satisfactorily assum- ing things to agree or disagree, when their agreement or disagreement is not perceived, either intuitively or traced through intervening connexions which gradually show it with certainty, but though it cannot be per- perceived at all, is presumed to be in the original re- alities these ideas represent : and therefore these are accepted as agreeing or disagreeing in the manner they are joined or disjoined, though apparently they do not perfectly. No matter whether this joining or disjoining is done by a separate person who relates me something to be believed, or by myself. I can make a proposition to myself. I immediately admit it, or do not. I admit that it may be true, and therefore give it some degree of assent ; or else I totally reject it and deny it ; and adhere with a strong degree of assent to the contrary side of the question. There is a percep- tion of a proposition and a simultaneous cognition of certain relations it has in a separate reference to other things distinct from itself, — as, to the train of our usual experience ; — a relation, also, to the previous posture of the mind and to another proposition : these percep- tions and different relations, being crouded into a mo- ment of time, constitute the general phenomena of the condition of mind we are discoursing of. If these re- lations be such as indicate agreement to the reality of things, they are a strong foundation of faith, which thereupon is firmly established. Such is the sort of notion I use this word to indi- cate : that is to say, as a general or abstract term sig- nifying something whereof may be degrees and varie- ties. This appears to me to be what takes place in our intellectual concerns, when, a statement of something whereof we have not certain knowledge and perhaps cannot attain, coming to view, we are said to credit, believe, or presume it to be proper and real rather than inconsistent, absurd, fallacious, or fantastical. 14 The word faith is supposed to come originally from a Greek word signifying to persuade. That which, in the Latin language, answers to this word faith, is fides. The French use the word foi for a similar purpose. The Italian language has it fede ; and the Spanish fe. But whether either of these words as used by these different nations, signified precisely the same idea that I signify by the word faith, or as any class of men have ever signified by it, is a thing not to be proved by translators. When we indubiously perceive the agreement or disagreement of any ideas, we have knowledge : and that, whether we perceive this, by intuition, directly ; or by the agreement or disagreement of ideas which intervene between such ones as cannot be immediately compared together : in one case it is called intuitive knowledge ; and in the other demonstrative knowledge. In these cases we have certainty. We clearly per- ceive the agreement or disagreement, either mediately or immediately. This is superior to faith. Where we have knowledge we have no need of faith : but when we have no knowledge we have nothing better than faith for our guide. Where we have not this clear perception of agreement or disagreement, but only take it to be, without experiencing it, we have on- ly faith. An idea may be fantastical or real : that is, it may have a pattern in nature or it may not. Thus, the idea of a goose is a real idea ; but the idea of a centaur is a fantastical idea. There is a question in cases of ideas joined in proposition, when they agree satisfactorily, whether they agree according to the agreeing of the things they represent. If they repre- sent nothing, this reference is futile : for although there is no inconsistency in saying a centaur is covered with red hair, and these two terms will agree ve- ry well in our ideas, yet, — where is any thing expe- rienced in nature to which to refer them, as a stand- 15 ard to determine whether their agreement is such as that of things which they represent ? Words are indif- ferent to any ideas. Men may accustom themselves to join almost any ideas ; and scarcely any, when they are inured to connect them without examination, will appear incongruous. But we look beyond, to what we have experienced in nature, independent of this or that statement, compatible with the truth of it. When it is said, paper is not parchment, I clearly see the dis- agreement of the terms : I have knowledge : absolute and real knowledge : for, having experienced the re- ality of what is declared, I know it to be a fact that it is so in nature : that they are two distinct specie^ of sub- stance, of which one does not comprehend the other. The same may be said of the proposition, a triangle is not a colour. Here, likewise, I have certain know- ledge and immediate perception of the disagreement. — This is a proposition that conveys knowledge, also. But if I am told a rattlesnake bit my dog as he was hunting in a wood a mile distant out of my view, I certainly have no knowledge of the reality of this agreement of the ideas joined ; — I can have nothing but faith. This is a proper object of faith. Imme- diately I assent to it or disbelieve it. If I receive the proposition as true, I do so because I conceive of a likeliness that the stated apposition and agreement is conformable to the existing fact ; and, therefore, pre- . sume it to be so. This is evidence. Likeliness to be true, is evidence. It depends principally on conformity to our customary experience. A person must place his assent or faith according to the evidence present to his conception. The preponderance of evidence carries with it the concession of credence. What appears evident to me to-day, may not appear so to-morrow ; insomuch that the very contrary may appear most evi- dent. On the other hand, what appears not evident to me to-day, may to-morrow appear very evident, and the contrary be wholly denied, 16 If it be asserted, gold is yellow, the purport is, i Idea of yellow agrees with the idea of gold : (but how van it agree with the idea of gold any other way than making a part of it ?) and hereof I have a full percep- tion : I know these ideas to agree ; for the idea of yel- low makes a part of my complex idea of gold : I have experienced by my senses that the thing which goes by the name gold, has the properties and power to ex- cite in me these perceptions whereof yellow is one. Therefore I know this proposition to be true. I have knowledge of this. Likewise I know it to be real, so far as it has any concern with real ideas, because I have experienced these things separately from this state- ment. But if a person should report to me Green- wich is five miles from London, — the words purport this — the idea of five miles agrees with the idea of the distance of space between those two places, Green- wich and London. Here I have no certainty that these ideas are real ; having no experience of those places, to assure me there are such in the world. Equality to five miles must enter into the idea of in- tervening space, on a single line, between those two places. I must look beyond these ideas, to real exist- ence. Here I have no knowledge : no perception of real agreement, nor the propriety of this joining of signs. It is only an object of faith. I believe it or do not believe it. Allow I believe it, — I do so be- cause for several reasons it appears more likely to be true than not ; and although I have no experience of the places nor of measuring the space mentioned ; yet all the considerations that induce my assent, may re- solve themselves into a conformity to my experience ; for it may be conformable to my experience that the person who relates this fact, usually makes veritable re- ports. The abundance of concurrent testimony may add weight to his in this particular ; I having read or heard from numerous others the very same statement ; and it is comformahle to my experience that multi- 17 tildes do not concurrently testify falsely tilings of this nature. This, therefore, is a fit object of faith. It brings no knowledge ; but opinion only. Let us suppose an example of a proposition made to one to whom the terms are familiar, and who is competent to consider the several circumstances that make for its likeliness or unlikeliness : such as, Eng- land has declared war against America. Here it is supposed there are certain determined ideas under- stood to be conveyed and meant by these expressions, England (or the rulers of England) — declaring war, — and America. A reflective conception or idea of the very contrary proposition, naturally arises — Eng- land has not declared war against America. Thus these two perceptions will be objects of his under- standing — England has declared war against America. England has not declared war against America. In the tenour of the mind's reflections or views, is a prevailing currency of experience, including the res- pects of other ideas it is accustomed to. There is a certain relation or habitude between this, and one of the propositions ; and a certain relation or habitude between it and the other proposition. To one it may be that of agreement ; and to the other, disagreement. He will at once assent to the one, and dissent from the other ; or he will assent to the one so far as to doubt of its falsehood, and doubt of the truth of the other. For if he disbelieves England has declared war against America, he must believe England has not declared war against America. And if he doubts that England has declared war against America, he must doubt of the tFuth of the other proposition, that England has not declared war against America. Also, if he sur- mises England has declared war against America, he must of course conceive of a proportionably less degree of probability in the contrary assertion. If he believes one, he must at the same time disbelieve the other He cannot believe one without disbelieving the other: 9* 18 and he cannot doubt of one, without doubting of the other. Yet, at the very first impression he must give the preference to one or the other. I3ut these relations are continually liable to be varied by deliberation, in most cases, till conclusively established by a thorough discussion. These appearances are almosti nstantaneous. A multiplicity of them seems to take place in almost no tinle. The succession of men's intellectual acts, has, on many occasions, a rapidity that is scarcely conceivable. Hence the nicety of analyzing the func- tions of mind. Thus, the man to whom this statement is made, will have faith in one* or other of the propositions ; but it is not noticed unless it be in favour of the proposition first advanced. What is stated and first related, is used to determine whether a man has faith or is an un- believer ; although he may at the same time have faith in that tacit proposition which denies it. You complain of my want of faith, and do not consider that although I believe not precisely the same proposition that you believe, yet I believe different ones, nay, even the very contrary proposition to that which you believe, and, if the truth is to be known, I have as much faith as you have. This is the state of faith. Such is the plight of soul, which goes under the gen- eral word faith. Supposing this definition of faith to be accepted, at least granted that it is my use of the word ; let us, to avoid obscurit}', recapitulate the several component articles of which we compound this notion ; and ex- plain them more fully. In assigning four parts to the comprehension of this general idea, I would be understood as considering them predicamental ones. The essential parts of this idea are these four : I. Perception of a certain proposition exhibited to the mind, for its acceptance. This perception of a pro- position is considered to include a notice of the pro- 19 bable agreement or disagreement of its terms. A proposition consists of signs joined or separated, to affirm or deny something. These either appear to agree when joined, or not to agree ; and they appear to disagree when disjoined, or not to disagree, ft may be verbal or mental, and relate any of a varie- ty of subjects, not of certain knowledge, but un- known ; — it may be conveyed by words or any other outward signs, or it may be brought up in the course of our voluntary thinking. But we consi- der it without regard to words. All that belongs to a proposition according to its purport, so far as» apprehended, is supposed to be taken into this per- ception of a proposition. The proposition, when speaking of this case, is admitted to be of that pe- culiar kind, which is neither demonstrable nor self- evident, nor declarative of things immediately be- fore the senses, but a subject of probability, and a proper object of faith, though not of knowledge. II. Perception of a proposition which is the -reverse of this that is stipulated or exhibited. — This 1 may be called a conception. The idea is purely reflective. It is a natural result of the propounding of the other, by which it is, as it were, elicited ; perhaps as ne- cessary as the rebounding rays of light by physical reflection in a course contrary to their first emana- tion. — Some may doubt whether it be a neces- sary effect when one is informed there was an earthquake at Havana last week, that he imme- diately thinks of the contrary — there was not an earthquake at Havana last week, — or when told, Spain has ceded Florida to America, he directly thinks Spain has not ceded Florida to America. But the quickness of thought often deceives us ; yet where is any deliberation, this plainly appears : and it seems reasonable to expect this as an invaria- ble result of propounding any statement, that the 20 negative or affirmative or whatever contradicts it, shall be instantly contrasted with it. III. A relation or habitude of the given proposition to the prevailing conscious experience of the mind. The mind has certain reflections and reasonings to which it is habituated, arising from its recollections of past, experience, as well as from imagination and sensation. This comprehends the idea of likeliness to agree with the reality of things, applied to the pro- position, or of unlikeliness to agree. Towards this state of the mind, depending altogether upon sepa- rate principles, the newly stipulated proposition has a certain aspect. It may be that of agreement or conformity, and if so, there is what is said to be ac- quiescence and admission, and a readiness to pre- sume upon the agreement or disagreement not known : but if it be such as repugnance and non- conformity, there arises displacency, and dissent. IV. A relation or habitude the contrary proposition has to the prevailing experience of the mind, or, in the common expression, to the mind. This denial or contradiction of the proposition, holds its peculiar relation, also, with the same thing as the other does. It may be of agreement or of disagreement : i. e. it may show the probable disagreement of the signs as disjoined, or agreement as joined. This were perhaps as correctly termed relation of the present to the previous state of the mind from which it is shifted by the perception of a proposition : for, with regard to that proposition, we can realize nothing there, more than a want of agreement and acqui- escence. Yet for our present purpose, it may be as useful to arrange it in this point of view. These relations hold the same proportion to each other at the moment of the first impression, and when the opinion has been settled by fair investigation. But when deliberation or suspense interpose, the case is different. 21 In these two different relations subsists the very firsf principle and foundation of all the degrees of proba- bility. For they are liable to fluctuate and to be va- ried progressively by deliberation, study, contempla- tion, reading, observation, and intercourse. Thus then it is seen these heads are predicamental, and compounded of several different particulars, of which, a variety may agree to the general discrimina- tions, to constitute any definite case : out of these consi- derations is composed that which I deem to be justly called faith. It may be observable that when speak- ing of faith we do not consider all these particular views, but only that signal circumstance, acquiescence of the mind in a certain proposition, in preference to another ; — but this cannot be without a view of these relations : these are what necessarily attend it ; with- out which it could not be what it is. Such is the gen- eral prospect before the mind in this attitude. If what has been here said concerning faith be cor- rect, it may give rise to several remarks ; particularly that faith is a private possession of the mind, and is some- thing that has place within a man's own breast, whol- ly secret from his fellow beings, and can no more be made appear without external signs than any of his ideas. It is even more secret than our passions. It has not those external indications which mechanically an- nounce our emotions and passions whether we will or not. You cannot see my faith in my countenance or complexion as you can my anger. There is scarcely a greater secret than naturally this is. You may re- late a particular serious account of things surmised or generally credited. I may believe it or disbelieve it. You see me listen to it with silent attention. Whether I believe it or not, is a secret beyond your line. Whilst I hearken, peradventure I have genuine faith in what is delivered : yet you discover no change in my countenance. — You may ask a man whether he 22 ?:as faith or not, in a given proposition. It is always a bold question ; and, in many cases, a very idle one. It is a freedom that is admissible between intimate friends ; and is very proper for fair disputants, who set out honestly and impartially to try their powers of reasoning, upon any question, where one may find the other's belief concerning some other subject, a ne- cessary article in forming an argument ; but then it should be an adopted rule in which they should con- sent, that each should consider himself bound to make unreserved declarations in answer to such question ; otherwise it should not be admitted at all. — What opinions and faith a man has in himself, he is con- scious of : but he cannot see another man's faith. He can get no track of it but information, derived from voluntary communication : But the other can keep it i^cret if he will. So much concerning faith in general. Let us pro- ceed, now, to examine the- degrees of faith as mea- sured by probability and the incidental varyings of the relations that come under view upon this occa- sion. 23 CHAPTER III. Of the Degrees of Faith, according to probability, and force ot Impression. JL HE degrees of faith or assent, are doubt, sur- mise, guess, belie/, and assurance. Doubt or demur, is the first degree of faith : for where is no assent, we are said to dissent from a pro- position ; and, not acquiescing in it at all, give assent to the very contrary proposition. The word assent, im- plies in its import a relation to some particular propo^ sition known and defined to the mind which exerciser that assent, or is the subject of that change which we call assent. Doubt is the first degree of assent or faith, because the very next thing after totally disbelieving a proposition, and denying and excluding every de- gree of acquiescence in it, is to doubt whether it be true or false. Where is any doubt of the truth of a proposition, it is not totally disbelieved. Here no such a thing as disbelief takes place ; neither can it be unreservedly believed : for it is not wholly denied ; and not thought to be impossible to be true. Doubt is admitting it possible to be true. When a proposi- tion is absolutely disbelived, there can be no doubt of it ; because its truth is altogether denied : the bias of the mind is direct to the contrary side : and all its ac- quiescence of assent is to the very contrary proposi tion. And with respect to propositions, the very first change of the mind from disbelief, is doubt. I use disbelief as the adversative of belief, and in a very- different sense from unbelief, which may mean any degree of faith falling short of belief. But when a proposition is not disbelieved, it seems to be in some degree believed \ that is, we so far acquiesce in it as to 24 admit it possible to "be true, and admit at least that there is as much probability of its being true as the contrary. Therefore doubt is the very first and low- est degree of faith. Moreover, admitting the possi- bility of the proposition being true, we admit simulta- neously some degree of probability also, which may be called the lowest degree and smallest measure of probability, because probability must have a gradua- tion correspondent to that of faith, since except it be probability faith has no foundation in the rational mind. — Yet this degree of probability that is conceded and admitted of a proposition being true, is, in this place, exactly in balance with what is allowed to the contrary proposition, or of this proposition being not true. Thus though this degree of faith is but one re- move from disbelief, (denial) nevertheless as much probability is given to one side of the question as the other, and we stand, as it were, on an average between two. This may seem a paradox ; — it being rather in- coherent to say there is a very small degree of proba- bility that such a thing is true, and there is a very binall degree of probability that it is not true. But this diminutiveness of probability , means only the ob- scurity of our intellectual view : — it is grounded on our shortsightedness of understanding : the fact is, we admit but a very small degree of probability at all events, in either case ; and there appears as much on one side as the other : for we think very little on either side of the question, if indeed we may be said to think at all. For probability is appearing to the mind likely to agree, in what cannot be brought imme- diately togetherand intuitively seen whether they agree or not. It has no actual connexion with deliberation. We scarce think at all. This is the nature ok that condition of mind we call doubting. When we come up to those degrees of faith which are footed on a preponderancy of evidence on the side of a proposi- tion presented, in opposition to a contradictory one. 2b we trace the mind in an attitude of alertness of thought, and find this acquiescence or assent stands connected with more clear and definite views of the things we refer to. Here is more active thinking and investiga- tion: indeed these must have taken place before any such degrees of faith can happen. This use of the word doubt may not be readily ac- cepted, because it may be said to have been generally understood in a different sense : — though perhaps not rightly understood : for where any thing is absolutely disbelieved and denied, there can be no doubt of it. If I have doubt, it no more derogates from one pro- position than the exact contrary one. I am as far from believing one as the other. The assent is not fixed. There is no belief at all. It is a state of mind that falls short of belief. It may come under the gen- eral name assent, or faith, as an abstract term ; — yet it is not so high a degree of it as is called belief, where credence is unreservedly given to a definitive proposition, and the contrary directly denied. — It is said doubt relates to the proposition of which it expresses a defect of acquiescence in it : as one is said to doubt of such a statement, but not to doubt that another statement is true. This is a prevailing mode of con- necting the word : but both these things are implied in one and the same phrase. If I doubt of the truth of one statement, I exactly in the same degree doubt of the falsehood of the reverse statement. In respect to belief, my mind is in equilibrio ; and I neither ex- clusively give assent to, nor withhold assent from, either. The second degree of faith, is that, next above doubt or demurring, where the probability in favour of a proposition preponderates ever so little the proba- bility of the contrary. This may be called smmiise. When the probability recognized by the mind, is barely enough to turn the scale of the balance from the level of an equilibrium, towards the side of a given 3 26 proposition, the corresponding degree of faith that takes place hereon, is that which I call surmise. In such cases, it is sometimes vulgarly said, though per- haps corruptly, that we are jealous of such or such a tiling ; — or that we are very suspicious that it is so : as if we should say, we incline to belief and assurance of it. But jealousy and susjncion are by no means synonimous with surmise. This is only a misuse of words. In surmise is very little voluntary thinking. It seems to originate in suggestion, and to come by way of our trains of associate ideas. When a man merely surmises a thing, he has not commonly sufficient confidence to make the assertion of the proposition he hasin view, whether affirmative or negative, though he is less wavering than when he doubts. The third degree of faith is guess ; or, as it is some- times called, conjecture. This is that which takes place when the scale of evidence inclines somewhat more in its descent on the side of a proposition stipu- lated, than in the case of surmise. When a man guesses, he has more faith than when he surmises, al- though no more profound thought or examination at- tends it : as, suppose I should say, I guess there will be a day of judgment sometime or other, when the con- scious selves or persons of men, even though separate from the bodies they have now, shall stand before the judgement bar of the great Lord and Governor of the universe, to give account of the deeds they shall have done here, and be justly punished for all their rogueries, even though they go clear in this world — I guess there are several beings superior to mankind in intellectual powers and acquirements ; but not with any extra sense or faculty, over and above and altogether differ- ent from what we have ; for in regard to that I can have no faith because I have no ideas. I can form no idea of such a sense or faculty. Faith being the taking of ideas to agi-ee m disagree, or as if they agreed or dis- agreed,, while their agreement or disagreement cannot i 27 be actually discerned, it is plain that where we have no ideas to suppose related in this way, and conceive nothing, we can have no faith. Knowledge is per- ceiving the relation of agreement or repugnance be- tween ideas : and faith is taking up with reckoning upon this agreement or repugnance, without perceiv- ing it. And we can no more have faith without ideas than we can have knowledge without ideas : but 1 can guess there exist several beings of superior rank, who with such kind of powers and faculties as we have got, have attained to vastly greater accumula- tions of knowledge and greater expertness in the use of those faculties, than we have any account that human beings have given any examples of; — and this is a de- gree of faith that I have. I guess that three hundred pigeons have alighted in my field about sixty rods from my house. I guess the number forty-seven is contained eight times in four hundred and nineteen — though I have made no calculation on it : — but a little figuring carries me quite beyond the confines of faith, and gives me demonstrative knoivledge that it is so, that forty-seven is contained in four hundred and nineteen eight times ; and precisely forty-three re- main. But with regard to the superior beings and the judgment, I am chained down to faith, and can't stir an inch, out of this station, to any thing higher ; though I can fluctuate (within these limits) from pillar to post ; — guess, surmise, believe, alternately, according to the appearance of things ; guess at, to-day, what I shall believe to-morrow ; — and perhaps what I believe to-day, to-morrow I shall but surmise or doubt. In guessing, is great confidence, though it is, appa- rently, farther from deliberation than surmise itself. We are apt to esteem it a fortuitous and desultory dashing at truth, without any guide at all, more than imagination. There seems to be, often, a precipitan- cy and hastiness about it, that impresses a strong per- suasion : and a man may guess what upon a minute's 28 reflection he will utterly disallow. The moment we begin to deliberate we stop guessing with repect to that particular thing we deliberate upon. Yet tin- questionably an appearance of greater likelihood or probability arises to the mind, when one is disposed to guess, than when he can only surmise. The fourth degree of faith, is where the preponder- ancy of the probability is still greater, and is not mere*- ly enough to give the scale the smallest inclination or decidence, but to carry it down in compliance with several coincident considerations called proofs, which, the more they are in number, have the greater weight, and the more we approach the solid basis of know- ledge. And this may be called belief. — Here is an interval that admits a varying accumulation of proofs, of which the more we get together, the stronger is our belief, the better supported, and the more it ap- proaches to full assurance, which is the highest and last degree of assent, next to knowledge, which is quite beyond the boundaries of faith ; — and the less w r e are in danger of being confuted and carried back to those inferior degrees, guess, surmise, or doubt. But it is all but belief still, till it comes to full as- surance. Belief is susceptiblev of different firmness and strength, and is more or less liable to be subvert- ed by accumulation of evidence on a contrary propo- sition, according to the pertinency and number of proofs we have. If a man believes, he must have con- sidered the weight of evidence on which his faith is bottomed ; and compared some facts or truths that go to support his belief, with others that are used on the contrary side of the question. Thus if I believe three hundred pigeons have alighted on my field, it is be- cause — what ? not merely on account of the same con- siderations that would have induced me to guess ; — but, because it is the season of the year when multi- tudes of pigeons frequently are changing their place, in companies — not only so, — but I have seen, a short 29 time before, a flock in which I guess were three hun- dred, flying in that direction ; — it is a field of grain; — it is a place where pigeons have been wont to halt ; — those which I saw appeared inclining to descend to the ground ; — and I no longer guess, but actually be- lieve that three hundred pigeons are seated upon that field. These several considerations laid together, are proofs, that give me this persuasion. In regard to those instances where I have said it is impossible to avoid either believing or disbelieving at the moment when a proposition is first apprehended as stipulated to the mind, let it be noted that, by be- lief y is there meant, faith in general, and not that par- ticular degree of it which is strictly called belief in distinction from other degrees, and which, for that purpose, I am now appropriating the word to desig- nate. But however it may be with some particular sorts of propositions, though it be impossible to disbe- lieve some, and impossible to believe others, at the time they are stated, I think propositions in general, are capable of being entertained with these several de- grees of faith, according to the circumstances under which they appear : — that is, supposing them to be such as belong to the province of faith, and not of knowledge, and yet not absurd, or contradictory of. themselves. But some will entertain absurdities with faith, from want of thought : nay, according to our history, the world has not yet wanted its thousands nor its tens of thousands who could swallow absurd propositions and entertain them with some degree of faith proportionate to the thought and reflection they were capable of exercising about such objects. When belief has for its object some action done or in- tended by another, it is named suspicion. The fifth degree of faith is that which follows when the preponderancy of the probability is the greatest that it can be without completely terminating the va- riation of the mind's acquiescence^, and admitting of 5* m 30 knowledge. — This I call assurance. This is the very last, and called the highest degree of faith, verging to absolute knowledge, where is no wavering nor uncer- tainty at all, but a clear and satisfactory view of the agreement or diagreement of two things affirmed or denied of one another. So long as we have nothing but faith, we are liable to be overpersuaded, and can be dispossessed of the opinions we have, to be furnish- ed with new ones. But when we have knowledge, we cannot be persuaded out of that. In case of assu- rance, is greater weight of probability than in that of belief. This state of mind is often mistaken for know- ledge : and it is very common to make the same use of it, as a principle of conduct. By examining these several degrees of faith, we trace the mind in all its attitudes and changes of pos- ture with respect to a proposition given, concerning things unknown, from the very first moment of its listening and leaning towards it, till it embraces it in full confidence, as if it were a matter of certainty. In these cases of«assent and acquiescence of mind, we are to take notice that we are always liable to be confuted and put back to a state of distrust and doubt, and even totally to abandon our belief, and assent to the contrary side of the question. This is a circum- stance of the condition of our intellectual affairs, that distinguishes all degrees of faith : whereas, when we arrive at knowledge, we are no longer liable to be dispossessed of our assuredness by any arguments whatever, but may only lose it by oblivion. In casses of assent, and when we have only opinion, we are liable to have our stock of evidence upon which our faith is bottomed, overbalanced by the proofs that another person may get together in favour of a proposition that is contradictory of what we believe, and thus he is said to confute us, and overset the whole structure of our tenet whereof we are per- suaded : but when- a man kncnvs a thing, he cannot 31 be persuaded from it by arguments, and dispossessed. of his knowledge by proofs to the contrary ; for knowledge supersedes the influence of proofs : all proof is there at an end. As the equivocal manner in which this subject has heretofore been customarily treated by many of those who have made much use of the word, has given rise to several questions concerning faith ; our next course shall be to examine them. — The most considerable and important of these questions, are, whether faith be voluntary oraot : — whether there be obligation in respect tofaith, — or whether a man may be said to have obligation to give assent to a proposition, or not : — whether faith can be a duty, or not : — whether faith can be imputed as a virtue or the want of it as a vice, or not : — and whether a man can believe what he does not understand and what he cannot conceive, pr not 32. CHAPTER IV. The question canvassed, whether Faith is voluntary or involuntary. X HE five great questions that remain to be set- tled concerning faith, to clear the way to the object of this present pursuit, are, 1st — Is faith voluntary or in- voluntary ? 2d — Is faith a subject of obligation, or can a man be under obligation to believe a proposition, or not ? 3d — Can faith be a duty, or not? 4th — Can faith be a virtue or the want of it a vice ? 5th — Can a man believe what he does not understand and cannot con- ceive ? With regard to the first of these questions, we may, in the very entrance, lay it down as an unquestiona- ble position that it must be either voluntary or invo- luntary. One or other of these, it must be : which is no more than saying, it must be either voluntary or be not voluntary : and this is self-evident. For the in- separable preposition in, tacked to the word volunta- ry, is nothing but a privative, and signifies only an exclusion of the quality it is connected with, from the thing of which it is spoken. In respect of the first question, then, this Disquisi- tion begins at the conceptions we have, to which we habitually apply the terms voluntary and faith. These are not substances ; but mode and relation. The sim- ple idea of motion we get from real existence ulterior to our understanding, that causes it by way of sensa- tion. The idea of a mode of motion, as a distinct idea, is made by exertion of our intellect whereby it is lim- ited and determined to its peculiar composition, and fixed to its peculiar word or sign by which it is always to be known and distingished. — Men, in the first in ' 33 stance, arbitrarily connect whatever signs they please, with their notions, to denote them to others : yet when languages are established by general use, and confined by custom to any particular train, the usage of the majority of those who apply the words of a language in any certain way, most frequently, is taken to be the standard of what is called propriety or the popular use of words most readily and extensively un- derstood. Consequently, this Disquisition is not so much a physical as a philological one. The question whether there be any such thing as free-agency or not, does not concern things beyond our conceptions, and does not resolve itself into the question whether such particular thing we cannot clearly comprehend, be possible to exist in the universe, or be possible to have been created in consistence with the known parts of real existence, or not : otherwise it were trifling ; and all the noise that has been made about settling it, is nonsense. But it is in fact little other than the question whether there be such an idea in men, to which is properly applied the term free-agency. It is only to ask whether free-will be a proper and sig- nificant term which denotes a determinate notion pre' vailing in people at large, which is generally and cor- rectly understood by that sign being used. Therefore, this also is a philological inquiry. To settle this, it were never needful to go farther than to be acquaint- ed with common custom ; since the very circumstance, the using of such a word generally, in writing and discourse, and being understood, is of itself a conspi- cuous proof that there is such a thing. — For if there were no such thing determined, in which men con- sented, how could there be so much talk about it ? and how can we account for their understanding one ano- ther when we charge them with using sounds without meaning ? — The controversy about the thing proves its existence ; — whence the question of its existence becomes absurd. There is, then, what is called volun- 34 tary. There is a distinction of voluntary and invo- luntary in the motions of men, whether of mind or bo- dy. There is a distinction of free and not free. — It being conclusively settled that there is such a thing as an idea to which in propriety such a word is referred, men can with use and consistency talk of what agrees with it, and what does not. This, that, and the other tiling, may be denied of it : and so many things may be affirmed of it as there are of different distinct no- tions in its composition, necessary to form that idea of voluntary. What is called voluntary, and the distinc- tion between voluntary and involuntary, is something that exists in the minds of men, which is signified by those words, or else it is no where, and those words signify nothing, but are still used at random, without any settled meaning. Voluntary is that which dis- criminates any act or posture by its following in conse- quence that motion of the sensorium, which, called volition, consists in a radiating movement or change ©f the sensorial substance, beginning at its centre and proceeding towards the extremities. Involuntary, on the contrary, is that which discriminates any act or posture, which, being caused by sensation, a diametri- cally reverse movement of the same substance, ope- rates to resist and oppose such particular volition as, at the time, might have a tendency to prevail. I am speaking of what the terms signify in their common propriety. — Numerous examples might illustrate this application of the words mentioned, and bring to view instances of such things as make up these meanings : e. g. when any one is under the pressure of severe bodily pain of any sort, that has come suddenly upon him, the very first expedient to relieve it, is voluntary exertion. Beasts and all animals whatsoever, resort in- stantaneously to voluntary effort : such as violent res- piration, writhing, &c. and in case the pain is ago- nizing, the whole voluntary energy is put in requisi- sition, and a general struggle agitates the whole frame. ■ 35 And some relief is in fact obtained by these means. For the time being, they divert from the perception. The moment any violent effort of this kind is going on, we are not sensible of the pain. This instanta- neous effort, in some cases loses its discrimination of voluntary ', and is even called involuntary : the mo- tion being so rapid, and having become so familiar, the manner in which it originated is not perceived : as in cases of Tetanus, called cramp, lock-jaw, St. Vitus's dance, &c. which are originally voluntary motions. On the contrary, when any sharp pain supervenes tt> any part of the body, it has a direct tendency to suspend voluntary activity ; checks resolution in all other respects besides some effort to resist the press of the prevailing sensation ; diminishes the desire of ac- tive employment ; and brings down the loftiest aims of ambition. Thus we see ' one naturally resists the other ; which makes it probable they are contrary mo- tions of the same substance. — Our sensations are, un- doubtedly, motion : for all the sensorial fibres of Our system are usually in motion while we live ; and we are conscious of an increased motion in a part which pertinges an external body that produces an irritation or sensation. Other facts, of parallel effect, are fami- liar to those who study physiology. Faith, as has been before observed, is an attitude of the mind, including relation to two propositions. Thus it consists of the idea of certain perceptions ex- isting in the mind ; and two different relations, as those existing perceptions respect each of the proposi- tions, which are discerned to be opposite and contra- dictory. — It being determined what these two things are which are called by these names, it will be easy to settle the question whether faith is voluntary or not, by our common faculty of discerning, since it is this by which we know intuitively, one idea is not ano- ther idea. For if voluntary is so different a thing 36 from faith that it does not consist with it, or in other words, the idea of voluntary makes no part of the idea of faith, it is evident that voluntary cannot be affirmed of faith. For one idea cannot he affirmed of another, on any other principle but that it is contained in it.-r- liy this rule, the one of which the other is affirmed, must be a complex idea. A simple idea cannot be affirmed of another simple idea* That which is af- firmed of another, whether a simple or a complex one, is to be found among the component parts of that of which if is affirmed. For whether they be simple ideas or composed of more or less of the distinguisha- ble elementary conceptions that make up the particu- lar ideas limited and marked out by distinct names, which go to constitute this i^ea of which the other is affirmed, the one that is affirmed of it, will be found amongst them : e. g. if faith be voluntary, it is be- cause the idea of voluntary is contained in, or makes one of the constituents of, the idea of faith. Now it is plain that by examining these ideas that we denote by these signs, voluntary and faith, precisely ascertain- ing the particular notices and considerations that con- stitute them, (for one of them at least is a complex idea) whereby we discover whether one is contained in the other, we shall be able directly to settle the question whether one can be affirmed of the other. For if in our conception of that thing we call faith, made of the perceptions of two contrary propositions propounded to the understanding, the relation the mind stands in with regard to those propositions, which is an effect of the consideration of certain proofs and their proportions, that make the agreement or disagreement of their terms appear to the mind, com- prising that state or impression called acquiescence in the one and a want of acquiescence in the other, no such idea as that which we call voluntary is found to be comprehended, faith cannot be affirmed to be vo- luntary ; i. e. the idea of voluntary cannot be affirmed 37 to be in that of faith ; and we do not say that that quality belongs to faith. If no such idea as of what immediately follows consecutively to- volition and is caused by it, enters into the composition of that, which, having agreed to denote by the word faith, propriety determinately affixes to that name, we cannot consist^ ently say faith is voluntary. The idea of motion may be thought not to be ne- cessarily included in whatever the epithet voluntary is applied to, and not an indispensable condition of af- firming any thing to be voluntary. The word mo- tion may be said to stand for another idea distinct from that which voluntary stands for ; and the addition of the word motion to voluntary, to make a sign that expresses altogether a different idea from what does j one of them by itself. Yet as it is considered some- thing flowing from volition (which is motion) as an effect caused by it, we necessarily include in it rela- tion to motion ; and we cannot frame a conception of a relation to motion, and escape altogether the idea of motion : for a relation cannot be conceived totally in- dependent of, and separate from, the thing related, and to which the relation has a view, where two or more ideas are compared : (for out of this arises rela- tion, such sort of ideas having no other source :) so that if we deny it the predicament of mode of motion, se- veral things wherein motion is not essential, or is ex- cluded, being called voluntary because they are effects coming, in consecution, from volition, we must at least allow it a rank among our ideas of relations ; and if so, we must conceive an idea of motion, inasmuch as motion is the thing related. — There are other mo- tions besides voluntary ones. There is motion that is not voluntary. And if the idea of faith take in the conception of motion, it may not imply voluntary mo- tion. If acquiescence, consent, or impression, tacitly involve the idea of motion, it is not voluntary motion ; and the relation is not direct to motion, but to propo- 4 38 sitions. Moreover it is not conceived to be a result of voluntary effort ; for it comes in the train of sensa- tion rather than volition. There is a certain habitude between the terms of a proposition, ''and between two propositions, coming to view through the intervening visto of certain proofs ; and under this view of the propositions and proofs, in which is relation to each, there is a certain impression, (called acquiescence or assenting) made on the mind by this prospect. This impression seems signally sensitive. It comes as an effect, regularly, from an appearance of things. The propositions appear on certain grounds, with certain as- pects, and the impression then takes place. Perhaps the propositions are not brought up to apprehension by voluntary seeking, as recollection, invention, study, — but bolted upon the mind through the auricular senso- ry from the force of an external speaker ; or through the sight, from a book of another's writing : yet what- ever way they come to view, the impression, what- ever it be, that is consecutive to the appearance they make, is what the mind cannot avoid, and therefore is not voluntary, but involuntary. The assent must be given to that proposition which appears to have the preponderance of evidence ; and in a degree that is proportionate to that preponderance. The mind of man cannot avoid assenting to that which appears more probable than the contrary. It is a necessary consequence coming after its adequate cause instituted in the very constitution of nature. It is involuntary. It partakes of no voluntary exertion. It is not at our option to believe or disbelieve, when a proposition stands displayed to our understanding, in a certain ha- bitude relative with proofs and with another proposi- tion. Studying the question, is voluntary. Men have confounded belief with inquiry when they have spoken of it as a voluntary and free act ; or rather, they have confounded believing a proposition, with the act of endeavouring to prove it. 39 m Throw hither all your paradoxical samples, declina- ble and indeclinable, from the Mahometan creed, to the memoir of a backwoodsman of Kentucky. Here comes a lad who informs me that four oxen and a cow have broken into my field of com, (its distance is two hundred rods) and are feasting themselves there upon the fruits of my labour. — It is contended, it is at my option to believe or disbelieve it : and a question is started, whether, if faith follows choice, a man's self- love will not naturally determine him to believe what is pleasant, and to disbelieve what is unpleasant. For certainly there are some things which he would wish to realize, and which he rejoices in believing ; and other things which he regrets, and would choose that the reality should be quite otherwise. Now this is by no means pleasant for me to believe : the more faith I have in the boy's report, the more uneasiness ; be- cause I consider myself despoiled of the fruits of my labour. But you say I can believe it or not believe, as I please. Most surely then I will not believe, for in- deed this pleases me most. But you will say next, it will make no odds in the reality of things existing. I answer then — for this very reason I will disbelieve, because in spite of existence I can have the pleasure of disbelieving any calamity has befallen me, and of sup- posing all my possessions are secure while in fact ano- ther man's herd is devouring my harvest. Moreover, you argue, the disbelief would have a bad effect ; for thereupon you would omit sending a servant to dis- lodge the depredators and repair the fence : the conse- quence might be the loss of the whole crop. But, man, can I not do this at venture ? Indeed I can take these measures fo please him that makes the report and to se- cure myself, charging the servant to be ready on the emergency if there be any foundation to this state- ment ; at the same time that I do myself the pleasure to believe there is no such foundation at all. But what will you say if I tell you I do believe this report, 40 and find myself unable to disbelieve it, in consideration of several circumstances, particularly that the relateris a person noted for veracity, and 1 have knowledge of a fact that greedy unruly cattle quarter adjoining my enclosure, and of another, that my fence is poor ; — wherefore the probability -seems greater on the side of this story than the contrary : and by believing it, I am induced to send forces to drive away the cattle and mend the fence. A very proper motive — say you. I admit it. For you will not pretend that I can believe' the report and disbelieve it at one time, unless you allow it possible for the same thing to be and not to be, and for one body to be in two places at the same time : yet a man can almost do this if faith follow choice : at least as quick as one thought can succeed another, he may be expected to pass from belief to disbelief. — Faith, in itself, is not partially free : it is either wholly free or wholly necessary. This very argument of the fixedness of real exist- ence not to be controlled nor in any way affected by our faith, is an argument against the freedom of faith, because the objects of faith relate to the re- ality of things : they essentially imply a reference to it But faith either conforms wholly to the evidence apparent, and the impression the mind lies under, or it is even as free and optional as it was with a modern Dutchman, who, cavalierly reflecting upon a traveller for propagating some doctrine which he and his neigh- bours had not been accustomed to, evinced, with much advantage, his independence of mind, by say- ing — " Suppose this man comes here amongst us, and, because he has great learning and more abili- ties than the generality of us, makes a book ; — must I believe it ? — Am I obliged to believe it ? — No ; — / ivont believe any of his books. I have one book, and that is enough — that Fll believe ; — but not his." " But," rejoined a by-stander, " I suppose, my friend, you would believe it if you thought it were 41 true — would you not?" to which the other saith, u tf ; — Pt pe tamirfd if I wool pelieve z7." — And just such a notion of faith, has every one who deems it a free voluntary act ; or a thing that spontaneously follows choice. CHAPTER V. Whether there can be obligation of Faith or not. JL HE next question is, whether faith can be the subject of obligation — or, whether a man can be under obligation to have faith, and to believe any proposi- tion, or not. And this, one would think, would re- quire no deep investigation to answer : it seeming what is generally admitted by all who have common sense, that obligation to do, can extend no farther than power to do ; and that the term obligation is applica- ble only to such things as are at our option to do or not to do, or which we have power to do or forbear ; but is no how consistent with what is involuntary and will happen whether we will or no. — Nevertheless the question may have a fair eventilation ; and it will be found to be a philological one rather than any other ; for it depends on what meaning is attached to the word obligation, to ascertain whether it agrees with faith so as to be applicable to it. The method to be pursued in commencing this investigation in a proper way, is to ascertain the determined composition of the idea: to which we affix the word obligation. When we have done this, if we have a determinate idea of faith, we can compare it with this idea of faith, and see whether it has such an aspect towards it that one with propriety may be said to have obligation to faith, viz. obligation to believe a proposition.— Perhaps this word 4* 42 obligation, is variously defined by different persons; The only sure track toward the truth we are here in quest of, is to keep in view the meaning that is most common with those who use the language most regu- larly and most extensively. This we must be govern- ed by, inasmuch as we have no other guide to an accu- rate use of the words of our vocabulary ; it being the very thing that is called the standard of propriety. The prevailing practice among such speculators is the rule and measure, and the conformity to it in the use of words, is propriety. Obligation seems to be a peculiar fitness whereof we are sensible, (and whereby it appears urgent,) of the performance of any action in our power to do or forbear, arising from a dependency of others' feelings on that action, and of our own feelings upon the ef- fect that action has upon theirs, founded in the nature of things. I don't know that this explanation conveys precise- ly what is most commonly understood by the word obligation, by cursory observers; yet I believe as much as this is generally meant by that word, by those who use it with any degree of regularity. Now what we have power to do or forbear, I take to be purely optional, and altogether opposed to involunta- ry. Now if there be any propriety in saying a man has obligation to faith, it is because the idea of faith is implied in this definition, so as to be found among the relations of the idea of obligation, otherwise among the things it is related to. It must equally comport with this sort of fitness arising from such and such depend- encies and connections, with any action in our power to do or forbear. Faith must be some action in our power to do or forbear. To say any thing is in our power to do or forbear, is to say it follows choice, or in other words is consecutive to choice. Now here is a certain relation between these ideas, i. e. between the idea of obligation and the idea of faith. There is a certain connection of the particular ideas that com- pose the idea of obligation. There is agreement of one part of the idea with the other parts. One part is a sort of actions, or kind of actions, i. e. any such as we have in our power to do or forbear. Faith must be of this kind if it can be said a man is under obligation to faith. There is this particular relation re.- quired, between this and any other idea to which this is said to be applicable. Any thing whereof this re- lation is affirmed, must comport and consist with what is described in that part of the definition, that declares the thing of which this peculiar fitness is an at- tribute. And if this is action and faith be no action ; and if this is voluntary and faith be not voluntary ; it is plain no such relation subsists between obligation and faith, and that therefore a person cannot be properly said to have obligation to faith. With regard to this definition, if it be not the com- mon sense of the term when considered as marking a distinct idea, I would have any one furnish a different explanation which should better express the proper use of this word. For when it is said I am under obligation to be punctual and upright to my fellow- men, what else is it, in sense and meaning, but saying there is rationally an eminent fitness in it, (i. e. in such voluntary conduct of me towards them) that makes it sensibly urgent because of a dependency of their feelings upon my free course of conduct in this respect, and because, being a member of society, my feelings also have a dependency on the effect my con- duct has upon theirs, by way of sympathy which by nature I have with beings of the same make ; and that from these two dependencies, this fitness and its ad- junct urgency naturally arises. For if I had no feel- ing, more than a stone, I were not sensible of any ef- fect my operations should have on others, neither were I susceptible of the pleasures and pains which consti- tute the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice : 44 therefore could not have any obligation at all. But, as a sensible and rational being, I am said to be under obligation to certain actions. Something like this, I am sure is generally meant by obligation : or else the word is very equivocal. Moreover this plainly applies to what is voluntary and unconstrained, and to nothing else. Furthermore, the epithet voluntary belongs to nothing but what is consequent to will. By what has been heretofore said, faith has been, not only proved to be involuntary, but, I think, made very evident to be no action at all. And if faith is not vo- luntary, and obligation belongs exclusively to what is voluntary, it plainly follows, there is no such thing as obligation holding a man to have faith in a proposition. We do not say a smoke-jack is volitive or free, in its circumvolution ; neither do we say it is under obliga- tion to circulate. Yet that motion is as voluntary as faith is ; and obligation as aptly belongs to it as it does to faith. But obligation does not belong to any thing which is not voluntary : — how, then, can there be ob- ligation to have faith ? — No such thing can be found in nature. It is for ever irreconcileable and repug- nant to our experience. What has been frequently said of the obligation of faith, when spoken with any sincerity, has alluded merely to the ultraneous examining of probability, searching after truth, or whatever is preparatory to faith ; or else to outward profession, declaring to others that one adheres to this or that tenet. Conse- quently this language has been very equivocal, and improper when obligation has been applied to faith itself- 45 CHAPTER VI. Whether Faith can be a Duty or not. Wi E are not without examples of those who con- tend it is an important and serious duty, on several oc- casions, to believe, or have faith in, a certain class of propositions : i. e. to believe some propositions, par- ticularly assigned, and to disbelieve others. And the propriety and intelligibleness of this, are questioned. One would think this question could be settled without difficulty, because the accepted meaning of duty is obviously confined to what we are at liberty to do or leave undone ; and not only so, but, the re- ceived sense depends so much upon obligation, that to say it is our duty to do such or such an action, is ve- ry much the same as to say we are under obligation to do it. But in respect to obligation being restricted to the influence or prescription of human laws, there may be a question whether in certain cases it is not our du- ty to perform something which we are not obligated to do : as giving a breakfast to a stranger who is fainting from want, when, in this sense, we are under no obligation to do it : but it would be a matter of ob- ligation if he had contracted with the man to labour for us during the day and had promised him his suste- nance, or if we had received money from him for the purpose of such supply. This should be called legal obligation. But I say, we have obligation to do it : we have obligation, independent of the awe we arr under from the compulsory influence of human inst tutions. We have obligation to do good. We have obligation to do good, setting aside all. contracts, pro- mises, human laws and commands, Whatever. And what we have obligation to do, I understand to be 46 our duty. The law of nature imposes obligations on us, independently of the authorities of all human esta- blishments. The law of nature makes certain actions fit, to the highest degree urgent, and indispensable to our well-being. It lays us under obligations in conse- quence of the relations we stand in, and the proper- ties we possess. Mankind being possessed of sym- pathy, are made happy or unhappy by the perception of the effects their voluntary conduct has on other in- dividuals of their species. One cannot see a being of the same species with himself, suffering pain in con- sequence of any voluntary act by which he has been the intentional cause of that effect, and be happy while he has that perception ; — wherefore, being sen- sible of the relation of dependency between others' feelings and his own voluntary and free actions, and between his own feelings and those of others, which are effects following his own actions, it is fit, and in- dispensably requisite to the security of his enjoyment as a percipient and intelligent creature, in the rank and station he holds among the connexions of real being, that he perform certain actions and practise certain courses in preference to others,- With respect to those beings. This is obligation. We have obligation to do good and not to do evil ; — nay, obligation to do to others what we would have them do to us. These dependencies result from the constitution of nature. This property, called sympathy, is constitutional in men. But this doing good, supposes voluntary action, supposes choice, supposes free-agency. And if faith be not a voluntary act, and no act at all, as hath been shown, it plainly appears faith does not belong to this predicament : and faith is not doing good. The dif- ference between obligation and duty, is this : — Obli- gation is the fitness or requisition of -an action, and duty is the action itself, which we have obligation to do. If it be represented as my duty to believe any 47 story, it is said to be so on the principle of certain reasons that are urged, which may be supposed ought to induce me to believe it ; (this argumentation itself pretends faith to be voluntary — duty is not pretended to be any thing that is not voluntary) but not ration- ally making it evident as other reports of fact. It is said it originated in such a source, relates to such sub- jects, has such coincidences of some of its passages, its first promulgation was accompanied by such cir- cumstances, and followed by such events, it influ- ences in such a manner the governments and great powers of the world ; and it is my duty to have faith in it — and if I do not, I shall be punished, so and so : — ■ perhaps in a lake of burning brimstone : — have my soul which is spirit, (i. e. not matter) cut from my body, and thrown, by itself, leaving the body other- where, into a lake consisting of flame made by an immense mass of brimstone being in a state of burning, to lie there unconsumed during eternal ages ! Also, the propositions are assigned. It is this or that parti- cular story, or doctrine, and not another, which is prescribed me as mv; task to believe. But if it be ad- dressed to my reason, there is no need of saying it is my duty : it is the duty of water to descend from a declivity. It does so in obedience to the law of gra- vity. It submits to the mandate of nature. Physical necessity impels it. In the same sense and no other, it is the duty of a rational soul to close with a propo- sition Avhich has with it a preponderancy of evidence. My reason can no more refuse assent to the proposi- tion which has the greatest weight of evidence or ap- pears more probable than the contrary, than water can refuse to descend from a declivity. Neither can I any more avoid disbelieving it, if it lack that evi- dence and appear improbable. One is as necessary as the other. Both are effects instituted in the order of nature ; and issuing from principles grounded in the constitution of things. Some are apt to speak di- 48 minutively of duty, and say that a man in doing this or that exploit, has done no more than his duty — if he do mo?*e he is ivorthy of praise. But what com- mendation does he deserve for doing his duty ? Thus they will have certain ordinary offices duties ; where- as if a man does any thing great and noble, they say he super erogates, and does more than his duty. As such they deem it honorary and worthy of particular note. Here they evidently circumscribe duty to legal obligation ; as if it were nothing better than doing what a man feels himself constrained to do, from a dread of suffering some pain or inconvenience to be inflicted by his fellow-men, in consequence of omit- ting it. When nothing else operates to induce one to do what is just or good, there is no more than legal ob- ligation, or what is prescribed by human contrivances. What is to be performed in conformity to obligation, is duty. Any particular action a person is under obliga- tion to do, is a duty. You owe me three hundred dol- lars. You have obligation to pay me that sum be- cause you have received the value of it from me, and two of your neighbours saw you r put your name under a piece of writing which set forth your promise to do it. The writing is vulgarly called an obligation, be- cause it proves obligation. It proves the fitness of that action, — proves that it is requisite in order to peace, honour and subsistence, — so far as you have ability : for obligation reaches no farther than power. This peculiar fitness, depending on and distinguished by such existing relations and circumstances as are noted on these occasions, is obligation ; and the pay- ment of the money, if your are able, is a duty you have to perform towards me. And every thing you have obligation to do, is a duty. This is all the dif- ference of duty and obligation. But you have obliga- tion to many things besides what you are legally hold- en to, by written or verbal promise. Obligation does not consist in paper nor in sounds. Of course you 49 have many duties more than this. It is your duty to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to instruct the ignorant, and to do divers other things, when you are able. — But Faith is none of these. — I am aware of what one stands ready to object, — faith is a duty of a spiritual being to a spirit — i. e. what the soul of man, which is a spirit, owes to God who is a spirit : that it is a spiritual or intellectual act which is a duty, that God requires of the soul, and is totally distinct from all other duties : which soul, if it refuses to perform this duty, will be punished therefor, in a manner suited to its peculiar capacities. This is going beyond our ideas. This ranges beyond the uttermost bourne of our conceptions. A most divine elevation of senti- ment, truly ! For we know nothing of spirit, only that it is not matter. All the conception we have of spirit, is this negation of material existence. We can give it neithr local habitation nor form. Here we use sounds without signification. Whatever proper words we use, however grammatically arranged, we speak them as parrots do, without any fixed purport : and it is the same thing whether a man talks or a parrot talks, when he utters words with no determinate ideas attached to them for their meaning : — but we use words in this way when we pretend to mean what we cannot mean, or to denote ideas which we are not capable of comprehending. We have no idea at all of spirit, more than the mere sound of that word ; at least that word does not convey us any notion of a distinct subject of real existence. We have no pretence to any other knowledge of its essence than privation or denial of something we do know. — All we can say, is, that it is not matter : therefore we have no concep- tion of what it is, but what it is not. For an idea of acting, we must recur to our common stock of element- ary notions drawn from sensation and reflection. We have no conception of any sort of effort but what we find here. We have seen matter in motion, and we 50 are conscious of communicating and suspending mo- tion in particular instances by will. This is all we know of acting. But it is said faith is not this sort — it is action of the soul or spirit, wholly different in kind. Now then the literal statement of all that is purported in this whole argument, is simply to say, faith is something we know not what, performed by Something we know not what, towards something we know not what : which amounts, ultimately, to this — faith is somewhat of which we have no conception : which means very little more than saying, faith is nothing at all : as much as to say, the word faith means nothing, because there is no conception or idea to ap- ply it to. This is at once denying faith to be volun- tary, obligatory, and any thing else that is pretended of it : so that this objection itself confutes the tenet that faith is a duty. Faith is no duty. It is not a voluntary act : it has nothing to do w T ith obligation : — it is a condition of mind, produced by certain ap- pearances and relations therein. It is one's duty to inquire after truth ; to diligently search for wisdom and propriety ; to examine the probability of tenets which may have influence on his character as a social agent ; and when he has done this, his faith necessarily follows his evidence, as water runs rapidly over de- scending ground. It appears, then, to be improper to say, faith is a duty, — or, it is a man's duty to have faith in a proposition or any assigned set of proposi- tions. It wants sense ; and is unintelligible. 51 CHAPTER VII. Whether Faith can be a Virtue, the want of it a Vice. J. HIS fourth question, respecting the imputing of faith as a virtue, has been, in a great measure, anti- cipated in the foregoing discussions : for there is very little difference between this, and the ques- tion whether faith can be a duty : for if it be not properly a duty, one would think, by natural and di- rect inference, it could not be a virtue, nor the want of it a vice ; — referring to the common accceptations of the words. For virtue is generally thought to be something which men have somewhat of obligation to, and so is duty. To do one's duty, also, commonly passes for virtue : and to be virtuous, is confest to be one's duty. For virtue is generally taken to be somewhat that in moral actions is called good, in opposition to evil, which is called vice or wickedness; and it is not questioned it is one's duty to be good ; — else what is I the meaning of this precept, < Cease to do evil and learn to do well ?' and there is a conspicuous affinity of all these words that relate to the preferableness of modes and measures of voluntary action. Yet it is well enough to mark out some precise limits to what we will have understood and denoted by this word, that our idea of virtue may be as determinate, at least, as that of faith, when we are investigating tne propriety of affirming one of the other. — Moreover, we are not on ground which may give us any distrust of the fa- cility of accomplishing this decision. For those who ascribe merit to any thing which is absolutely con- strained and unavoidable, who make virtue consist in involuntary motions, or accidents beyond all control 52 of volition, and openly preach that doctrine in earnest, are not now numerous. If faith, therefore, he not a duty, not a subject of obligation, not voluntary, not free, and no action at all, as we have endeavoured to show, it will be manifest that it cannot be a virtue, in itself, nor the absence or want of it be a vice : for vir- tue and vice are words which are usually thought to belong, in their appropriation, to what is in one's power to do or forbear : otherwise men do not con- ceive either of them a fit object of praise or blame, reward or punishment. Virtue is very frequently used in the same sense as duty. But to speak more phi- lologically, perhaps virtue is a more general term, not applicable to so minutely detailed particulars, and re- presents rather sorts of action, or the qualities which are habits of actions, resulting from repetition of cer- tain acts, than individual action. Thus whereas it is my duty to pay my neighbour twenty-five dollars, it is virtue in me to be habitually punctual and pay all my debts that I owe to any people, as fast as I have ability and opportunity. And whereas it is my duty to sit still and not outrageously and deliriously lament while I have a mortified finger amputated, to the an- noyance of the feelings of all around me, and the em- barrassment of the operator ; — also, when my win- dow is shattered by hail, to abstain from raving exe- crations of my fate ; — patience is a virtue, which is a habit of quiet resignation to things over which we have no control. — As a particular action is a duty ; that sort of action, or a habit of actions of that sort, may be called a virtue. Yet virtue is particular as well as general : though what is termed a virtue is more usually a sort or rank of actions, than that which we term a duty, which is mostly designated by some particularity of detail. But faith not being any act at all, especially a voluntary one, and not follow- ing consecutive to volition, how can it be a tribe of actions, a sort of actions, a series of actions, a set of 53 actions, or a habit of action ? It unquestionably has the power of a more general signification than duty has. As, it is the duty of a porter to open the gate to let me pass, when I am calling on him ; but it is a virtue for a man to be attentive and punctual in performing the proper offices of his station. Some people affect to consider faith as a necessary effect taking place in the soul, pursuant to the opera- tion of a cause that is supernatural, at the same time they represent it as a virtue. As if they should say it is a virtue in one sense, for which we are to be re- warded and honoured ; in another sense an endow- ment from a superiour and uncontrollable power, that supervenes in a manner perfectly independent of any recourses we may use ; in another sense a gift that is obtained by supplication, from a being able to bestow it. But now, so many different senses in which to consider one thing, are hardly reconcilable. For an action that is called voluntary, is very different from what follows the fortuitous force in the necessary ope- ration of physical causes among inanimate things : though some will not allow them to be different in kind, but trace all movements and effects of move- ment, to physical necessity. This does not concern the present disquisition : it is sufficient there is a dis- tinction between what, in the human s}^stem, follows volition, and what follows the impulse of communi- cated motion from one piece of inanimate matter to another. We make a distinction, because we perceive a difference. And upon this distinction and this dif- ference, our whole argument is superstructed. This distinction is as strong as any we have in our moral ideas. Nothing is more readily noted than the diver- sity of voluntary and involuntary movement, when considered in connexion with a sentient being, in one instance ; and with an incogitative inanimate mass, in the other, as a rock. We readily distinguish the Ioqo- 5* 54 motion of a horse, from the descent of a stone down a slope, or the current of a river. If faith is not a virtue, it necessarily follows that the want or absence of it, is not a vice. For, not having faith in a proposition, can imply no ill-will : and vice supposes some obliquity of intention. How, then, can the want of faith be charged to a man as vice ? Faith is no virtue : therefore, being without faith, is no vice. If this be so, it is absurd to attach reward to one, or punishment to the other. Where shall we rank such an expression as, " He that believeth shall be saved ; and he that believeth not, shall be damned ?" Is this properly to be taken in its literal sense ? What would be the consequences following such a construction ? — But we have no need of investigating the consequences of considering this declaration in the literal import : for they are obvious enough : and the absurdity of this sense and applica- tion, if faith does not include the idea of spontaneity, is no less obvious. For if it be but ascertained whe- ther faith be any thing that follows choice, we know, if it be not, and is not voluntary, it thence necessarily follows, it is unreasonable and unjust to pronounce a man condemned to any suffering in consideration of his not believing, or in other words, not having faith : and, therefore, in morals thfe proposition would be ir- rational, out of rule altogether, and, in this sense, ab- surd. Yet, upon such a principal as that by which this proposition is accepted in a literal sense, the words infidel and sceptic have become words of re- proach. To be an unbeliever has been thought so great a vice that it was reckoned no crime to kill one who was an unbeliever. Both Christians and Mahometans have acted upon this principle. Many ^fanatics, in all ages of history, have showed no more signs of compunction or regret while they have killed infidels and heretics, than if they were killing wolves or wasps. This must have been owing to a persua- 55 sion that faith, such as they possessed, was so sublime a virtue as to exempt from guilt, and consecrate all the actions of those who possessed it : and that the want of it was so black a vice, that those who believed not in this way, deserved death, insomuch that it were no offence to kill them. Those who enlisted in the croi- sades, and the partizans for that expedition, acted up- on this principle. " According to some accounts, ma- ny Christians who had been suffered by the Turks to live in that city, (Jerusalem) led the conquerors into the most private caves where women had concealed themselves with their children, and not one of them was suffered to escape." Such was a specimen of their conduct when victorious. Those who martyr- ed people for their opinions, justified themselves by this principle. Such ruffians have existed in every age of the world. Why should the idea of reproach have been associated with the words infidel, unbeliever, sceptic, heretic ? or with the words deist and atheist ? What can either of these be accused of, more than that he does not believe the same thing that another man believes, or another society of men professes to be- lieve ? Yet, alas, are not these words made synonimous with enemy of mankind 7 As if the^j persons were to be shunned as rapacious animals are, and scouted from civil society. But how are they to be known ? Per- haps it is only an unwillingness to prof ess some cer- tain doctrine, and to support a certain cause, that is viewed so culpable in them. For these anathematizers want nothing but the signal of compliance, whereby they shall be assured of either their co-operation or implicit submission ; they then reckon them in the household of faith. Look to the plain meanings of these words. An infidel means one who does not believe. Believe what ? Some given statement. For there is no one but believes something — therefore, in this sense there can be no such thing as an infidel or unbeliever in the workL If an infidel mean one who does not believe 56 any thing, there is no such character in the world. — But you believe that a man lived three days and three nights in the stomach of a whale, in the midst of the sea, and was then vomited alive upon the shore ; you, therefore, are a believer. I do not believe it j therefore I am an infidel. Moreover; I believe the earth sheds more light to the moon than the sun does : then I am a believer. You do not believe it ; there- fore you are an infidel. So we both are infidels in different respects : and all mankind are both infidels and believers. How has come about this uncouth as- sociation of the idea of malignity with these terms ? Men's shortsightedness, and the slight and desultory way they have used the words, have been the proxi- mate cause. It is the interest of aspiring parties, that men be shortsighted and ignorant. Parties of ambi- tious deep-designing adventurers, who lead the multi- tude by the arts of delusion, have established this as- sociation of ideas. Sordid interest has brought it about. Every sect makes use of such terms, to similar effect. One of the articles of the Mahometans' belief, is, that unbelievers are the only persons who are to be pun- ished eternally. The punishment of vnheliai is to be everlasting, to shew that it is the greatest of all crimes. A heretic is one who has the character of not be- lieving what the church or ecclesiastical society where he lives, professes to believe and holds forth as the standard of orthodox faith. In the current style, he is reputed an incendiary and disorganizing character, and his preaching is deemed seditious. A sceptic is one that doubts ; does not believe things ; but has this small degree of faith, that he most usually doubts. He does not at once disbelieve and de- ny ; he demurs ; he suspends the determination of his assent; does not declare decidedly on one side or the other of the question ; has not the degree of faith ; does not believe confidently in a proposition a6 soon as presented ; but hesitates. This scrupulous.? 57 trembling genius is called a dangerous man in society — more dangerous than the blasphemer. An atheist is, literally, one who does not believe there is a God. At least, does not believe the exist- ence of such a being as is usually called God, — a be- ing having will, wisdom, &c. and who is infinite. There is lack of faith in such a one ; — he does not believe in that proposition which sets forth the exist- ence of such a particularly described being : — perhaps he openly denies it, and refuses assent to it altogether. Such is called a monster. He is represented as re- belling against God ; storming the battlements of hea- ven ; and bidding defiance to almighty power ! But where is the reality of any of these implications ? How is any malignity, any ill-will to God or man, implied in this critical condition of mind ? He is necessarily without faith in that proposition, because there is not evidence enough brought to his view, to carry conviction with it, and produce assent. With respect to his fellow-men, he is destitute of what they possess, with whatever advantages may pertain to it. They perhaps have that faith, while he has not. — [Though in my humble opinion there are more real atheists among those who anathematize the character, and cry up the saving efficacy of faith, than among those who say nothing and make no stir about these things :] What then ? — He will be no more apt to have any grudge against them for their possessing that, than they will have against him, for being des- titute of it. It is not natural for a man to desire faith or to crave faith which he has not ; nor to envy others the faith which they have got, more than he has. With respect to the Supreme Being, whose existence is supposed, on such an occasion, to be questioned, does it imply any hatred or irreverence ? Does the idea of not believing that a being exists, include the idea of rebellion aasunst that being ? If I do not be- neve a person exists or ever had existence other than in 58 name, is it understood, of course, that I hate that pep- son, and am laying a plan to destroy his life or cur- tail his prerogatives or enjoyment ? It is the ne plus ultra of nugacity to interpret in this way. What is a deist ? — A deist is one who does not be- lieve all the propositions in the bible. This is the common acceptation of the word among Christians. He that does not assent to all the propositions in the scriptures, (so called,) and admit them on the hypothe- sis that they were given by inspiration of God, and are of spiritual, divine, supernatural prompture, they call a deist. But the original meaning denoted ono whd does believe the existence of one God. But the received meaning, now, is one that disbelieves the infallibility of the scriptures. He has not faith, with respect to that proposition, and many other proposi- tions in the scriptures ; — he does not believe. This is the utmost can be said of him. Now the meanings of all these names, being no- thing but negations, exhibiting only absence of some circumstances or relations concerned with the mind of man, how can they import any degree of guilt ? and with what propriety can they be used as tokens of reproach or indignity ? For me, it appears altoge- ther as inconsistent to impute them as vice to any char- racter, as to impute the shade of a tree, or the shadow in which any object is accidentally enveloped, a bad quality in that object. For want of faith is no more action in a person, than the want of any measure of light, is a quality in a tree. And yet by observing the manner in which a very numerous class of people are apt to speak and write, we shall find it an extensive fashion to speak of the want of faith as a vice. Hence the phrase, practical unbelief ! But what can be the meaning of tins phrase ? If we interpret it by the literal powers of the signs of which it is composed, we shall even find it to be contradiction. For the syllable un is a privative ; 50 and merely expresses the absence of belief, which whether it be called an act or a relation, is thereby denied in the phrase. But if faith be ever so truly an action, or ever so active, of itself, the privation of it is no action : and, to call any thing practical which looks directly another way from practice, I am sure sounds like contradiction. In short, faith is not a virtue ; and the want of it is not a vice. A man may have a very small degree of faith ; doubt of most dogmas of foreign and remote existences ; deny the rest ; and have entire confidence in little or nothing more than what he has absolute knowledge of; and yet have as much virtue as one who believes every thing he hears. He may possess as many good qualities ; have as much integrity, gen- erosity, industry, charity, or hospitality, as the most credulous person whatever. It is not always the per- son who has the most faith, that has the most virtue. A credulous person or enthusiast may be noted for as bad qualities and habits as any other, and be as extra- vagant in any part of his social character. Accord- ingly, we find some of those who are most aptly cal- led sceptics, practicing the social virtues more exem- plarily than any bigot. 60 CHAPTER VIII. Whether a man can believe what he does not understand and cannot conceive. lJUR business is not to determine whether one can have faith at his option or have no faith, as he lifts his hand or lets it rest, consecutive to an act of will, and believe or disbelieve at any moment whatever he pleases to turn the eye of his imagination upon ; or whether he can feel obligation to have faith in any proposition or propositions ; — that faith is neither vo- luntary nor obligatory, neither a duty nor virtue, having been already made appear. But the question is, now, whether there can be any such thing as faith in a proposition which is not understood. This ques- tion remains, if faith be considered ever so fixed and un- avoidable an effect, remote from a catenation with will. A proposition not understood is either a proposition relating things of which we have not determinate con- ceptions, or one relating things of which we have no conception at all, when the signs can mean nothing but other familiar things not supposed to be purported. But we may want determinate conceptions either by reason that the things cannot be comprehended and distinctly conceived, or because the words are ambi- guous and the purport is not discriminately and as- suredly apprehended. There are propositions which afford some ideas that are distinctly comprehended, and are defective in others which are not clearly con- ceived. There are others, whose terms, taken toge- ther, are not understood at all. A man when he de- livers me a proposition, may mean a different thing from what I understand by it : he may understand it and have distinct ideas connected with all its signs — 6t 4 but I may attach different ideas to the words from what he does, and thus understand them in a differ- ent sense from what he does ; wherefore I do not un- derstand what he intends to convey. Possibly, at the same time I believe such a proposition as I understand, while he also believes a different proposition, even such a one as he understands and intends to stipulate to me, — which, through the ambiguity of the words, I do not get sight of. Yet he may affect to mean what he cannot mean. He may overstrain the power of his words and make pretence of signifying some- thing which neither he nor I can comprehend, be- ing altogether beyond the patrol of our apprehension, and which therefore cannot be signified by them : so that neither of us can understand it. But words be- ing equivocal or accustomed to inconstant use, is not the only reason why one person does not understand a proposition which another does understand. The pro- position may be delivered in a different tongue and language from what one has been bred to, or has learn- ed ; and then the person who hears it in a language he does not know, gets no definite ideas at all, ex- cept those of the sounds which are used as outward signs. Thus if a man delivers me a proposition in the Greek language, and I do not understand that language, I do not receive the ideas intended to be conveyed ; — perhaps I do not get a glimpse of one single idea that he designs to communicate to me. — Again ; if another asserts, in my own language, " Re- ligion is the support of adversity," perchance I do not understand the proposition he goes to make, because I take the words in different senses from those in which he uses them. I understand by the word reli- gion the same thing as virtue or holiness, while pro- bably he means, on the contrary, nothing but a pro- fession of a certain description of faith and belief, with an adherence to an instituted set of ceremony. Also I mav understand by the word support, fit being ad- 6 • 62 lnitted at all events to ))e used figuratively in sentence) a source of comfort, consolation, entertain- ment, and delight, to those who are in adversity : — whereas he may mean hy it the means of upholding them in the estimate of the world ; so that they have the countenance and help of a popular and numerous class of their fellow mortals who are more prosperous. But if he tells me, an angel of God, from waiting at the gate of the palace of heaven, descended to the surface of this planet earth, and declared to him and several others who were in company tending some sheep, that a child, of more than human genius, was born of a virgin who had conceived him not hy com- merce with man, hut by the Holy Ghost, — I must confess, to speak after the manner of men, he makes a proposition which neither he nor I can understand. If his purport is to exclude from the significance of the word angel the idea of a human being, (still re- taining the power of speech ;) and also all idea of mat- ter from God, Holy Ghost, palace of heaven, &c. he evidently attempts to mean more than he can mean, i. e. to connect with words more than he can connect, because he cannot conceive; — for what we cannot conceive, we cannot connect with a word. In the same rank stands the proposition of the devils and the swine, to wit: that a separate person from a man, be- ing in the body of a man, spoke, in behalf of a legion of other different individuals of his own species, toge- ther with himself, all being in the same body, saying, *• suffer us to go away into the swine*' — and after re- ceiving permission from the personage to whom the address was made, they all left the man. and went straightway into the bodies of a large herd of swine, which thereupon ran violently down a steep hill into the sea, and Were choked to death. This can too more bo understood than many others of the same structure. What is meant by saying it cannot be understood, is, . rt the proposition that is designed to be m 03 not be understood ; our natural and ordinary experi- ence being denied in the scope of the communication, and our words can import nothing more than our na- tural and ordinary experience. Whereby, it is diffi- cult to apprehend what is intended by the word de- vils, if we do not include the idea of matter. But some other proposition may be understood : some- thing (mite different may be understood by this same assemblage of signs : — the whole may be considered as an allegory — the words being applied not in their true, but in ajigw'ative sense, and that unusually caba- listical. — The question is, whether there can be faith in a proposition not understood; — that is to say, perhaps more correctly, whether such a proposition can be entertained with faith ? And to this, the answer must be either negative or contradictory of our definition of faith, hitherto admitted. We must either deny that part of the definition which designates the main object of faith as a proposition presented to the under- standing; or else contradict ourselves when we say, affirmatively, that we can have faith in a proposition which we do not understand : because, while we pre- dicate faith, we deny that which we admit to be es- sential to it ; and say (in effect) we can have faith where there cannot be such a thing as faith. For to be presented to the understanding, is to be understood. This I think will scarcely be questioned. For what is understood without being perceived ? and when a proposition is offered, if nothing is known of it but the signs that meet the external senses, — the words which are heard by the ears, or seen by the eyes on paper, are empty sounds, or arbitrary marks, to which one may attach any imaginative ideas at random. But if certain other ideas are conceived and distinctly noted as having been designedly attached to these words to be signified by them, we are then said to understand the proposition. It is understood ; — that fs, presented to the understanding. The words are 64 not only presented to the ear or eye, but their mean- ing, which consists of other ideas, and their connexion with them as signs — is presented to the mind. If faith is a condition of mind, related to a propo- sition which is presented to the understanding, to wit: a condition that includes such a relation, it plainly follows, that where no proposition is presented to the understanding, can be no faith. — But, being under- stood, is the same thing as being presented or exhibit- ed to the understanding : consequently, when a pro- position is not understood, no faith can exist, relating to that proposition. But belief is a degree of faith, consequently there can be no belief of such a propo- sition. Therefore a man cannot believe a proposition which he does not understand, nor any thing which he cannot conceive. There cannot be such a thing as belief of what is inconceivable. If any one will per- spicuously specify what this presenting any thing to the understanding consists of, if the thing presented is not understood, and will tell me how any thing can be understood and not be presented to the understanding, or how any thing can be presented to a person's un- derstanding, and not be understood by that person, I will confess that my scale of arguing is anomalous. If faith can be without understanding ; things with- out understanding may have faith : — as wheel-bar- rows and wind-mills. Neither will it depend upon the degree of intellectual power any sort of being is possessed of, how much faith he has-h-a cat will have as great a quantity of faith as an elephant ; and an elephant be as full of faith as a Roman Catholic priest. If, then, it does not appear consistent to suppose faith can be where no understanding is, it is reasona- ble to infer, the object of faith must be exhibited to the understanding before any faith about it can be ex- cited. And being exhibited to the understanding, means being understood ; unless a man can be said to understand things which he has no ideas of, or to have 05 ideas without perceiving them : for, to have ideas de^ terminately connected with signs of ideas, is to under- stand the proposition which these signs and these ideas constitute. And if this proposition is not presented or exhibited to the understanding, I should like to know where it is, and how any such thing as faith can be applied to it or stand connected with it. I know some are apt to contend that men believe some things because they do not understand them ; and that cases occur, where, for this very reason, that they do not understand a proposition, they have faith in it, which, if they fairly understood it, they would immediately deny all credence in. This argument is specious enough : but I say, it is not because a person does not understand a proposition, that he believes it ; but, that which he does not understand, he cannot be- lieve, and that which he understands, he does .believe, not merely because he understands it, but because it has evidence with it overbalancing the contrary : ra- ther, the proposition which he does not understand, he cannot believe ; but that which he understands he can believe ; and he either does believe it, or does not believe it, according to evidence. — By saying he can believe it, is meant, there is a possibility that it be evi- dent, and that he believe it : whereas while it is not understood, there is no possibility of its being evident. To say, a man not understanding a proposition as it is meant, believes it in a different sense, will not avail : for a proposition being composed, not merely of words, but of certain conceptions or ideas also, to be denoted by words, and their connexion with certain words which are to signify them, a different sense makes a different proposition. Thus, if the proposition affirm, a man who was dead, having risen out of a tomb, made his appearance erect, with a ghastly visage, ex- hibiting the wounds inflicted by his murderer, and spoke, with advice to his friends ; it will not avail to say you understand it in a different sense, because, not 6* 66 understanding how a dead man could speak, you take the words in a different sense from what seems to be their literal import, even in such a sense as you can comprehend, that is, the man which appeared and spoke, was a living creature instead of a dead one ; — for in so saying, you confess you believe another proposi- tion and not the given one. The proposition which you understand, you believe ; and that which you do not understand, you do not believe. For, what two pro- positions are more distinct than a dead man spoke, and , a living man sjioke. The latter you believe ; and the former you do not believe, because you cannot de- ny the idea of life, in the predication of the idea of speaking. — Such as are satisfied with the doctrine of shades, which supposes a something bearing the shape of a human body, retains the consciousness of the past actions and perceptions of one deceased, have vague notions of personal identity. They seem to think that this consciousness and memory, are not necessarily adherent to the body which shared in the past sufferings and actions : but when they represent the apparition pointing to his head, to his breast, his side, or otherwhere, to show the wounds inflicted on him in battle, or about the time of his departure from life ; yet perhaps saying my body lies at a little dis- tance under a certain ledge of rocks, at the foot of a certain hill, &c. — then they confound themselves. — They cannot believe the same body to be in two places at the same time. Moreover, propositions are made by joining and separating ideas, or else mere signs of ideas without considering any thing determinately denoted by them. The ideas are presumed to agree or disagree when such agreement or disagreement cannot be brought to an immediate perception ; and this sort of propositions is of matters of faith ; in other words the proper ob- jects of faith : when if the mind is satisfied with this presuming upon a thing not known, there is faith. 67 Now if there be no ideas to compare together or to ascribe this sort of relation to, certainly no faith takes place. — You tell me four thousand angels descended from the utmost visible part of the regions of ether, not being material bodies but celestial spirits, yet visi- ble, having wings at their shoulders, and otherwise the shapes of men, sounding trumpets and singing glo- ry to the most high. — I do not understand your state- ment ; — therefore how can I believe it ? I do not know what ideas I am to attach to your words. Such as I conceive, you purport to exclude. How can I believe what I have not ideas of? You also say, God sees things past, present, and future. — I cannot con- ceive how things future are seen, though I understand very well what seeing things present is. Consequent- ly not having ideas of all that you would be at, I can- not believe you. Some make profession of believing there are crea- tures, of a certain description, which they call witches. But whether they can really believe such doctrine as has been delivered concerning such creatures, is a question. I can believe several strange and odd re- ports of creatures such as I can conceive, to wit, or- ganic masses of matter with life ; and extraordinary feats performed by them. But if the elementary con- ceptions whereof I make up the ideas of these beings, are denied and excluded, no foundation remains for such ideas. I can conceive of creatures which are very small, and yet have human faculties : and I can believe there are such ; that is, it is possible to believe it, because I can understand it : though I do not say that I do believe it. I can conceive there are erea- tures in the shape of a dog, in the shape of a horse, — creatures many hundred times smaller, with shapes which I never yet saw : I can conceive they are ex- ceeding swift in their motion, have cunning, have sa- gacity, have judgment, and reasoning ; — nay, even have wit, abstraction, invention — the passions, anger 68 and envy/ and many of the knacks of human art. I can conceive of such things ; I can understand such statements. For having such ideas, it is not impossi- ble for them to combine with any other shape besides that of the human body. But if matter be denied, what idea remains ? — I then contradict myself if I say I have any of these ideas. But when you come to be asserting that they make themselves invisible ; that they pass through walls of brick, stone, or wood, in their full size, without displacing any thing ; that they are metamorphosed from one creature to another at their pleasure or convenience ; — I cannot compre- hend such properties of matter ; I cannot distinctly apprehend such species' of beings. Now the founda- tion of my faith is gone. I cannot believe, because I lack ideas. — I cannot conceive how a woman or a man can be changed into a horse by putting a bridle over the person's head, fixing the bit into the mouth. If I could believe such a thing, I might impute to my own fault that I have not more frequently the conve- nience of a horse to relieve my fatigue of walking and to make my way with greater expedition, on certain emergencies, in some parts of my travels. All the stories of metamorphoses, ghosts, appari- tions, witchcrafts, oracles, and ominous prodigies, come under this head. They cannot be understood ; therefore cannot be believed. Yet there may be such as profess to believe them. They may believe what they can understand, and clearly make out in their conceptions. But what they cannot so make out, they cannot believe. For there can be no faith where there are no ideas : and where we are not assured or deter- mined what ideas are to be understood by given signs, we are without ideas in respect to the existing stipu- lation ; as well as where we cannot form any concep- tion. So then men cannot believe that which they cannot understand, or which they cannot conceive. If a man G9 professes to believe any such proposition as relates things beyond his capacity to conceive, his profession is without the reality of experience. To make a de- claration of faith, is easy : has no connexion with stu- dy or deliberation. But the reality cannot be where is no distinct conception. CHAPTER IX. Q.UEIIT— -Whether any evil consequence is to flow from the want of Faith in those things which are beyond the verge of ak our influence : which, if we believed them we should have no more power to eschew or approach than if we disbelieved them ? JLiET us suppose that after a run of years and ages, the dead bodies of all the individuals of the human race that shall ever have lived and died, are to rise out of the earth and sea, intire ; however scattered and mouldered or converted into other fabrics, all the par- ticles and limbs being re-united and established ; and having re-assumed their life, sense, and consciousness, are to be judged according to the deeds they shall be conscious of having acted in their former life on this earth ; and that this is an established truth, and will as assuredly be a fact as the time of our existence will elapse. But in supposing it, we, if possible, arc be- lievers. Let us suppose that although you and I be- lieve this proposition, yet a third person, who is a neighbour of us, to whom the statement has been made, does not believe it, utterly denies it, and en- tertains the proposition with no degree of faith. It is not supposed to depend upon our entertainment of it in our minds. It must undeniably be a thing which is to be 4fe 70 brought about by power which is inconceivably trans- cendent to ours, and by means altogether beyond our control or influence. Our belief of the proposition, does not make the proposition true ; nor does his dis- belief of it, make it false. If he believed the event would take place, he could not forward it, nor pre- vent or delay it, by any effort he could make, any more than if we disbelieved it, we could hinder or ac- celerate it. Our foith has reference to the reality of things, and rather depends on that, than the reality of things depends upon our faith. If my faith is well founded, real existence ulterior to my faith causes it, and not my faith causes real existence ulterior to my faith. He does not believe : and the question is, whether he is to suffer any evil consequences from his want of faith in regard to this statement, or not. And to this, the proper answer seems most evidently that he is not. For it does net appear rationally evident that disagreeable emotions or thoughts are more wont to follow as constant effects, this want of faith, than agreeable or pleasing ones. Yet cases occur, in which painful emotions and thoughts have the want of faith for their regular, proximate cause. Yet not more frequently than faith. For example : 1 have an only son who follows sailing, and has adventured to a neighbouring island about sixty miles distant ; in the way to which, is a danger- ous whirlpool ; and, though a course with which he is not familiarly acquainted, being destitute of a thorough pilot, has taken the whole direction of the vessel up- on himself. Have heard nothing from him in several days — the weather has been bad — and I believe he has been drawn to the bottom, — and consequently am un- happy. My faith is the cause of my misery. My wife does not believe this proposition, and therefore is at ease. Her reflections are full of eomplacency. The effects of her want of faith are not painful, but the reverse. — But, this moment comes up a man who has ;i jusl arrived from the place for which my son em- barked. The openness of his countenance exhilarates me with a ray of hope ; hut transient. He tells us lie s.iw the man on the island ; and was sure he passed the gulph in safety. On account of circumstances known to myself. I do not believe his report. Here, plainly, my unbelief makes me unhappy. The wife believes it : and, more confirmed in her opinion, ex- periences a new accession to her satisfaction and de- light, resulting from her faith on this particular occa- sion. Here you sec, both pleasant and unpleasant feelings are owed to faith and to the want of faith. — Still a question remains, whether a person is to suffer any other evil consequences of not having faith in particular instances of these remote and uncontrollable subjects, besides what naturally are inseparable from his reflections upon that particular subject concerning which he lacks faith ? or, whether any other bad effects, different from these, to take place in his other trains of thought or in other parts of his life and experience, arc instituted either physically or morally, to result from such a cause as being destitute of faith in any in- stance ? In asking such a question, let me be under- stood to except what is instituted by the governments* of the world of mankind ; which is modified by the capricious pretences, and precarious proficiency, of such an imperfect progressive being. For it is well known that in several countries pains and penalties are instituted as punishments for a lack of faith, or ra- ther for professing to be without faith, or professing disbelief. Peradventure there is a sea of ignited sulphur pre- pared for the end of the world, somewhere in space, in which nine tenths of the human race are to be burnt eternally. Suppose I say I believe it: — (but I can say 1 believe, if I do not ; or even it^bc so as not to admit of faith.) Very well — let it be granted that I have that faith, to consider it a matter of &c1 — 7*fy 72 faith did not make it — no — nor all my powers of bo* dy and mind, and those of all the human race, could never make it. My believing it, could never be the cause of such a production being brought about. If my faith is founded on the reality of things, as he who has faith always supposes his faith to be and always wishes it to be, and which foundation, the more his faith approaches towards knowledge in its degree, is the more manifest, certainly that is the cause of my faith, instead of the reverse : for if it were not sup- posed to have existed anterior to my faith, where then would be my faith ? what would it rest on ? What- ever notions and persuasions I have in my head, do nothing towards the support of things without. If I believe ten thousand devils are to come at a certain day and carry off the human race in baskets to the planet Mars, I cannot prevent it. In saying I believe it is so, I confess I cannot prevent nor any how in- fluence it. You do not believe it. — Your unbelief can do nothing towards the nature and constitutions of things, which shall make such a thing impossible. You cannot order what shall be or shall not be, in remote parts of the creation. — The thing is confessedly be- yond our line. What consequences are to follow ? What thinkest thou that thou deservest to suffer for thy infidelity ? Dost thou not feel thyself very me- lancholy and deserted, when thou thinkest there is no hell in the universe ? However that be, if thou lived in some countries — if thou hadst lived in Spain some years ago, thou mightest be roasted upon a gridiron, or broken upon a rack. — Are men to be tormented by that flame for not believing there is any such punish- ment ordained ? W"as hell made to burn those who do not believe there is any ? What should we think of that monarch who should erect a guillotine expressly to cut off the heads of all those who do not believe such an engine exists in his establishments, — and take measures to detect them, one after another, and con- 73 demn them as for the most capital offence they could commit, till none should remain in his dominions who could be convicted of being destitute of that faith ? — Some sects, however, seem to maintain that eternal punishments were instituted upon such principles : for the Mahometans make it an article of belief that un- believers are the only ones who are consigned to eter- nal punishment. And other sects certainly class infi- dels in the front rank of the candidates for perdition. These objects of faith which overstretch our influ- ence, may be distributed into things past, things present, and things future. What is past, is incon- testibly beyond our power. We cannot undo what is done ; — or make as if it had never been, what has been. There are several things of this sort, of which either faith or lack of faith, contristates or perturbs one who is capable of reflection. So, if a man has lost a purse of money or other valued article out of his pocket in time past, and he believes he has drop- ed it at a place where it is irrecoverable, or does not believe it has fallen into the hands of an honest man who will restore it to him ; his reflections which are consecutive to this faith or want of faith, are painful. And in one of these instances, his not having faith of certain things, may be reckoned a cause, though not an 'operative productive cause, of unpleasant feelings which arise from reflecting on the contrary of what is not believed, as considering it the real matter of fact rather than the other side of the question. The like may be said of things present and future. Yet among the variety of these classes of objects, some instances are to be found, of things, whereof neither the belief nor disbelief has these effects following it : where if we consider a thing to be, to have been, or likely to take place in future ; — or consider it not to be, not to have been, or not possible to be in future, we feel neither pleasure nor pain m consequence of it. Thus, if I believe ever so firmly that, five thousand 74 years hence, the moon shall not be seen at all in our heavens, being burst and separated in fragments equa- bly distributed in space where they are duly balanced, when nothing but the twinkling radiance of stars shall illuminate the night ; and another day as firmly dis- believe it ; yet, neither in the one instance does my belief, nor in the other my disbelief, give me either pleasure or pain. For, what emotions, whether pleasing or unpleasing, arise from the peculiarities of this dog- ma, when reflecting upon it, take place as naturally in study and contemplation where is no belief nor disbelief, the thing not being proposed as an object of faith, as •where assent is determined. Parallel examples may be given of things present and past, whether events or substantial existence. — But, notwithstanding it is evident that in sundry cases of things present, things past, and things future, the want of faith in respect to them is a circumstance which is a forerunner to sad and painful feelings ; that other pains and deprivations voluntarily instituted as punishments to be inflicted in consequence of lack of faith, by a superior being, are to follow, does not seem to be in any degree evident — moreover, any moral institution of this kind, could not appear to us consci- entious — and what is not agreeable to conscience, is not conformable to the law of nature ; for so far forth as men have conscience, their measures of right and wrong are precisely those of the law of nature : since conscience, arising from sympathy in a being who is capable of reasoning, and from reflection on the rela- tions and tendencies of voluntary actions, has the im- mutable principles of the universal law for its base. That a man shall suffer any pain as a punishment for what he cannot avoid whether he will or no, is repug- nant to our ideas of justice and equity, and therefore cannot rationally he, ascribed to the institution oi a just being. We have certain determinate ideas to which we particular]}- appropriate the words, justice. equity) and desert, to denote them by. Some things are agreeable to those ideas, and some things are re- pugnant. Perhaps it is agreeable to our idea of justice, that a murderer shall have his life taken from him, and that a thief be flagellated. But faith, being no virtue, and the want of it, no vice, as heretofore shown, can- not be fit objects of instituted reward and punishment. If a man does not believe a proposition, it is because at that moment he cannot believe it — If he professes that he does not believe it, it is either because he tells a lie, or because he tells the truth : and to say a man shall be damned for telling a lie or for telling the truth, is a different thing from saying he is to be dam- ned for not believing. It may be reasonable that he shall be coerced for telling a lie ; — but that he be co- erced for speaking the truth or for a lack of faith, is repugnant to our idea of natural justice. So then we may reasonably conclude no man has ground to be in fear of any instituted or arbitrary punishment he shall suffer for being destitute or de- ficient of faith in regard to things out of his power, unless he is so unfortunate as to believe a very evil being governs the world. CHAPTER X. Of the influence of Passion upon Faith and Probability,. X HERE arises a question whether faith is not sometimes influenced by passion ; and whether we do not, under certain circumstances, the more readily give assent to one proposition or disbelieve another, on account of some passion prevailing in us, that re- presents the objects in a light more odious or more pleasing than, independent of any emotion, they usual- ly appear ? To which, seems very ratiunel to admit the affirmative. But this influence is immediate only on evidence. Passion so biasses the mind that the apparent evidence is greater or less than it would be estimated if the mind were perfectly cool. But, as the evidence iS, so faith must result. That there is such an influence, is seen in numerous cases of Common life. — For example, you are strongly attached to a certain lady. A neighbour relates, she has in more instances than one, evinced a particular esteem for another individual, with whom she has been Observed fondly conversing, and on whom she has bestowed tokens of friendship and affection. This ■ ighbour, too, is of reputation for veracity. Every idea her name can suggest, has its associations with some pleasurable idea, in the range of your fancy. Her words, her motions, every part of her character, you consider exempt from fault and blemish. You are not inclined to credit the report, although you cannot deny the probability the testimony carries with it, or any other evidence that presents itself on the occa- sion, — as that such a man lives in your neighbour- hood, &c. yet your affection has this hallucinating tendency, that it diminishes the magnitude of the 77 dence itself, in your view. You cannot believe, ber- cause you have so high an opinion of the woman, that you fancy she is too virtuous to be guilty of what is reported. Thus upon what proof, under any other circumstances, would not suffer you to doubt, but would carry your assent at once as high as belief, you now disbelieve from want of thought, and from pre- judice which prevents you from looking into the real deformities of the object of your attachment. — Like- wise if a man is extremely angry at another, he will not so readily believe any favourable report of him as he would at another time when not under such an impression ; and will more readily believe any ill of him though the evidence should be less. And when a man is in great fear, he is more apt to believe, and it appears more evident, some evil is approaching, to happen to him, than when he has no such emotion in him, allowing the state of things about him is the same in both cases. — Thus any strong passion pre- vailing in the heart of man, whether love or hatred, anger, desire, fear, or despair, operates to increase or diminish the evidence that appears to his understand- ing, and eventually determines its assent ; — though it can have no effect on those facts which constitute the ground of the probability in the case, to destroy or produce any one of them ; yet it influences the ef- fective evidence, or what ultimately appears In the conjuncture of assent, and thus modifies the mjnd's opinions. It was this cause which produced that remarkable effect in the minds of those who, to the number of thirty thousands, having been assembled at the com- mand of pope Martin the 7th, and solemnly harangued by this same Martin and Peter the hermit on the importance of an expedition to the Holy Land, cried out with one accord, " It is the will of God-^-it is the will of God" — Whereupon the whole multitude, as well those who did not speak as those who did, be- 7* 78 lieved not only this saying, but that the minds of that multitude actually experienced an instantaneous im- pulsion from some celestial and supernatural agency, which made them concur in this exclamation, and that the Almighty had just then informed them all, that it was His ivill they should march to war with the infi- dels. The passions which were then prevailing in. the minds of these people, and the circumstances which conspired to favour their influence, inclined them to believe in such a proposition as this, and made it ap- pear evident to them that it was absolutely the will of God that they should set out on the proposed ex- pedition to Jerusalem, to kill the gentiles and possess themselves of the places of the miracles. Their wild romantic turn of thought, the novelty of the tiling, the probability of the delightfully pleasant situations and ihe wealth and power it would lead them to, as indi- viduals, enamoured them of the cause. They were strangely attached to the project. Such was the frame of their minds, which fitted them precisely for such an impression. Their phrenzied zeal in the rites of enthusiasm, and their hatred of those who inherited the places that gave birth to their religion, contributed to inspire them with ardour on this occasion, and to make them anxiously eager to set out in the prose- cuting of the war. Thus they were more ready to believe that proposition than they would have been, under other circumstances, when most probably they would Have wholly rejected it : and it seemed more evident : — The evidence seemed greater in favour of it. — In like manner at the present day many people who, from whatever cause, have a peculiar fondness for one party and antipathy to another, come to be- lieve some tenets in the doctrine of that favourite par- ty and disbelieve those of the other, which otherwise they would not : although what chiefly distinguishes thk cvf adherer.ceJ;o a party, is generally nothing more than pro- 79 fession of faith, yet I think this devotedness sometimes carries them to faith itself in particular tenets held forth by the party they espouse, and denial of those of others — still it is from want of thought, in both cases ; for they no more examine the doctrine of one party than that of another : — and even where they pretend to make show of investigation, it is cramped and made partial by their prevailing affections, which operate as prejudice, hoodwinking their intellectual sight, magnifying in the one case and diminishing in the ■other, what would appear to be the probability of a proposition. This is a cause which operates to diversify the ap- pearance of things when a proposition is offered ; but that appearance, whatever it is, has, no less, its im- mediate natural effect. Faith must follow the great- est evidence which at the present moment appears. Conclusions are rashly drawn, and very pernicious errors propagated, in consequence of the influence of which we are here speaking. No fair and thorough discussion can take place where is any excessive passion operating to influence the train of thought or bias the judgment. Passion should be subjected to reason, and not reason to pas- sion : for what depends on the use of reason, is de- feated by that which interrupts and counteracts reason- ing: which is done by any violent emotion, and when is an undue agitation in mind, whether of love, hatr anger, desire, hope, fear, joy, or despair. There can be no fair canvassing of a question where is any inordinate precipitancy of the spirits, that ope- rates to warp the judgment to close with one side ra- ther than the other, in the conclusion of assent. — The passions must be duly attempered and regulated, be- fore the mind of man is in a nt plight to explore pro- blematical subjects, and adjust the balance of contin- gent evidence. And fcr this reason the study of mo ■ 80 ral philosophy should precede the intent pursuit of investigations wherein we are to canvass problems in such other departments, as metaphysics, history, or philology. CHAPTER XL Reflections on the influence a mistaken notion of Faith has on Civil Society, by an advertence to the consequences that in several countiies have followed certain ways of conceiving- it. WHOEVER attentively looks into human his- tory, and follows the thread of narration through the succession of generations and communities, relative of their publick transactions, can scarcely avoid taking notice of a curious fatality in their general character, whereby it is the subject of a remarkable proneness to certain strange and uncouth courses of practice, in which men seem to have acted, from some secret motives, in a manner not clearly to be deduced from obvious or known principles of conduct in human na- ture : and that, of this proneness in the common peo- ple, those in power and advantageous elevations, have taken advantage to rule and manage them to the sub- serviency of their particular views of ambition ; while the bulk of the subjects are led into many trou- blous plights and reflections by this spirit, and suffer it as a kind of disease or spirit of infirmity. The cause of this, will be found, upon strict explorement, to be some notion of faith they have in their heads, which having been defined in a concerted way by influential men, according to their interested views, is fitted to warp their judgment of the tendencies and powers of 8X actions and things, and set awry all their course of de. terminations. Thus we shall find some falling pros- trate hefore images, of metallic pacture, performing to them the addresses of homage, adulation, and penance. — Some, infatuated with the idea of renown and re- ward after death, deliriously casting themselves be- fore the chariot-wheels of a gigantic molten deity cal- led Juggernaut — others, adventuring some thou- sands of miles across oceans, to propagate a certain- sort of doctrine among a people to whom it is utterly unknown, (but other is instead of it) into climates un- suited to their constitutions, where they sicken and die like the frail exotic, under a persuasion it is their duty to inculcate such particular tenets in their fellow- mortals ; — thus the missionaries from civilized nations to distant islands and continents of barbarous heathens, till the world with the sound of their munificent deeds : — hence also we see mighty armies going forth against each other to stain the green earth with human blood, that some sacred tenet may prevail and have the strongest multitude of adherents : each party being moved by the same principle, but with a directly op* posite tenet ; — one king secretly plotting to destroy another — with what pretence ? he does not believe in the same creed ; and does not train his subjects to support the same theories about mystical things — the people of one sect and persuasion, seeking to cut off, root and branch, the people of another — one man con- triving to exclude or nonplus another, in his pursuit of a livelihood — because what? because that other does not think as he thinks, and believe as he believes. Now this is very evidently owing to a manner of defining faith, which persuades one it is a duty : — in some measure depends upon choice : and plainly contradic- tory of what has heretofore been said to explain it in this discourse ; wherein we consider faith not aiyiction following will, but a condition, complicated of relations' and aspects of things that appear to the mind of man un- bz der certain circumstances. A distortive and interested mode of defining faith, has given rise to many ex- travagant courses, in different societies of mankind. This is unquestionably conclusive from what we at present observe. For we find that a notion of faith, has a sensible effect upon a man's conduct. Several odd capricious turns of life are to be traced direct to what is ascribed to faith. Now if the limits of obliga- tion be those of power, it is plain — 1st, that faith can- not be embraced in what a man is under obligation to do, seeing it is nothing at all to do, being not an ac- tion but a condition or situation of mind made up of relations ; — and 2dly, that, as it is not what a man can bring about by an immediate voluntary effort, as he can hold his hand in a perpendicular or horizontal at- titude at any moment he pleases — it being not a con- dition that he has at command and can always bring on at pleasure ; it is not a thing which, immediately, he is accountable for. — He can apply himself, or not, to examine the grounds and proofs of a proposition ; and whatsoever they are in reality, must make its ap- pearance to his mind, and have its effect according to the established order of things, not subject to his im- agination or his passions. A way of defining faith, that has been very com- mon amongst men, seems to have been such as has in- duced them to consider opinions and persuasions of mind by which different persons were distinguished, as altogether arbitrary. In the time of the croisades, such a notion of faith must have prevailed among those who countenanced those expeditions. Faith was deemed something men could do, or something they could effect, else it could not have been considered such a criterion of character as to justify men in inflicting death on those who were supposed to be deficient of some items of belief, and saving the lives of others who were judged to possess them, or who made acknowledgment thereof. Queen Mary and her fanatic train of blood-thirsty ministers, had such a notion of faith, or acted very in- sidiously upon such a principle ; whereby hundreds of scrupulous dissenters were delivered to the flames, a sacrifice to the demoniac genius of that unholy age. The martyrs, theirselves, by such an illusive notion, thought their faith was a virtuous quality by which they merited future glory. One of these two kinds of definition of faith, must in those times have been in vogue, to wit: — 1st, That faith is an act of voluntary thinking, or an act of the soul, under the direction and control of will, for which a man is accountable ; — or else, 2dly, That it is a solemn declaration of one's opinion : which is reducing it to formal profession. There is reason to believe the leading champions of a mysterious system, conscious that faith itself is not under their control, nor any others', crave only a stur- dy professional adherence. — Shrewd, aspiring advent- urers, seeking dominion, make use of the timidity and imbecility of mankind, to plant the bulwarks of their selfish systems, which to view, is disgusting to a liber- al mind, but regarded with a partial advertence to their instrumentality by those whose bounded beam looks not beyond the weal of their own selves, their kindred, and such connexions as are necessary to strengthen their establishment, yield an unsocial com- placency, characteristic of sordid and illiberal souls. Such is the happiness of kings, popes, cardinals, and prelates : not that large diffusive enjoyment that grows out of philanthropy, but restricted and bounded to the low delights of self-conceit, quite out of the track of human perfection. On the other hand, viewed through the medium of delusion by the eye of enthu- siastic ignorance, the satisfaction they afford, is com- mentitious, and dashed with all kinds of trouble. Every one of those leaders, that are engaged by self-interest in promoting the establishment of any set of opinions, is hostile to all innovation, and with deep 84 distrust and fatal countermine, ferrets every other par- ty that makes advances to a prevalence, or aspires to predominate by insinuating a change of the current notions of his subjects. " In the year 31, Nero set fire to the city of Rome, and threw the odium of. that execrable action on the Christians who abode there, whom under that pre- tence, he caused to be wrapped up in the skins of wild beasts and worried and devoured by dogs, others to be crucified, others to be burnt alive. " Under Antoninus, the Christians were banished from their houses, forbidden to show their heads, re- proached, beaten, hurried from place to place, plun- dered, imprisoned, and stoned." " In the year 250, in the reign of the emperor Decius, the Christians were in all places driven from their habitations, stripped of their estates, and tor- mented with racks." After the Christians had gained the predominancy, they were no less intolerant to others. Europe was long tortured by the oppressive manacles of ecclesias- tical tyranny, and convulsed w T ith the bickering jea- lousies of sacerdotal influence. A reformation was be- gun by one Martin Luther, in Saxony, in 1517. — " The pope, who lived in Italy, had declared himself the sovereign of the whole world. The parts of it which were not inhabited by Christians, he accounted to be inhabited by nobody ; and if Christians took it into their heads to possess any of those countries, he gave them full liberty to make war upon the in- habitants without provocation, and to treat them with no more humanity than they would have treated wild beasts." Such usurpation awoke some to a sense of the im- posture by which their natural rights and dignity were invaded, and incited them to abet the efforts of one whose genius aspired at a reform, from other motives. 85 In effect of this recourse to make the state of thing* better, and to disencumber civil society from the fangs of a monstrous hierarchy, much blood was spilt. " To intestine divisions on account of religion, were added the horrors of a civil war, occasioned by oppresssion on one hand, and enthusiasm on the other." — " In 1525 a great number of seditious fanatics arose on a sudden in different parts of Germany, took arms, united their forces, and made war against the empire, laying waste the country with fire and sword, and committing every where the greatest cruelties. The greatest part of this furious mob was composed of pea- sants and vassals who groaned under heavy burdens, and declared they were no longer able to bear the despotic government of their chiefs — Hence this sedi- tion had the name of the rustic war, or the war of the peasants." The baleful commotions that have been excited in the world and the immense numbers of human lives which have heen sacrificed by this fantastic notion of the freedom of faith and of the importance of profes- sions, is enough to fill any reflecting mind with horror and amazement. — -Yet Luther retained some of the popish absurdities in his creed. — " The divines of the Lutheran sect, maintain that, after consecration, the body and blood of our saviour are substantially present, together with the substance of the bread and wine ; — called consubstantiation or impanation /" In earlier times those fanatic wars called the croi- sades, were set on foot by papal authority and influence. These commenced in 1091, and continued near 200 years. The object of these was to take possession of the places where Christ is said to have performed his miracles and finished the labours of his mission. These places were called the Holy Land. Nine different croisades (or expeditions of this sort) were successively prosecuted by several powers of Europe, popes, kings, emperors, or councils. — The first was set out by the 8 86 Council of Clermont influenced by Martin the 7th, and, at its first start, numbered an army of 1,000,000 men. — " Croisaders were to be exempted from prosecutions for debt, from interest on money, and from taxes. Those who engaged to go on that service, distinguished themselves with crosses of different colours worn on their clothes, ordered, it is said, by the Council of Clermont, and were thence called croises or crossbear- ers, of whom contemporary authors tell us there were 6,000,000. The English wore them white; the French red ; the Flemish green ; the Germans black ; and the Italians yellow." To kill infidels was accounted no crime. People being infidels, was thought a sufficient cause to kill them. Therefore no quarter was to be given to those whom they found inheriting the places of which they sought to make a conquest. In times of peace, individuals who were averse to lying, have not been safe : but have been murdered for their faith, or supposed opinions. " 19,700 persons are computed to have suffered martyrdom with St Irrenaeus at Lyons, under the empire of Seve- rus. " 6666 soldiers of the Theban Legion are said to have been martyred in Gaul." " One historian reck- ons 16,000 Abysinian martyrs, and 150,000 others, under Dioclesian. There is scarce any sect that does not pretend to its martyrs. Christians, Mahometans, Heathens, and Idolaters, — all have their martyrs." But great as the number is, which we have on re- cord, it is supposed a still greater number eludes our discovery. — " In the ancient church, the acts, sayings, sufferings and deaths of the martyrs, were preserved with care, in order to be read on certain days, and thus proposed as models to future ages. Yet notwithstand- ing all this diligence, we have but very little left of them: — the greatest part of them having been destroy- ed during the persecution which Dioclesian carried on for ten years, with fresh fury, against the Christians." 87 Numerous were the martyrs in England, during the lt6h century. — About the close of Cromwell's time, in the reign of Henry the 8th, was formed the whip with six strings; — being the decree of a convention of prelates who agreed that all who should believe certain articles, six in number, which they particularly pointed out, should be burnt. The six articles condemning all to be burnt who should hold them, were — I. That the body of Christ was not really present in the sacrament, after consecration. 2. That the sacra- ment might not truly be administered under one kind. 3. That priests who entered into holy orders, might marry. 4. That vows of chastity entered into, upon mature deliberation, were not to be kept. 5. That private masses were not to be used. 6. That auricu- lar confession was not to be used in the church." — A sublime notion of faith these prelates must have enter- tained, which implied either that men had the power of modifying their own persuasions and opinions at pleasure, or that a man could " hold" articles which were contrary to his sentiments ! — Many became vic- tims to this scourge. — Moreover, the persecution was greatest in Mary's reign. The persecution under this reign, began in 1553. — The whip with six strings was still kept in use. — Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were sent to dispute with twelve men of Oxford and Cam- bridge, who being too strong winded for the three, and getting the last word in the dispute, these three, on being asked whether they would recant, answering that they would not, still maintaining their opinions, were judged heretics and condemned to the fire. — Bi- shop Bonner tore out Thomas Tompkins's beard by the roots, when in prison, and several times cudgelled him severely, for no other cause but his not assenting to the doctrine of transubstantiation ! - Query — Whether this assenting, he would have enforced, was mental or verbal ? For it seems, surely, 88 if he had common sense, he knew he could not be cer- tain of the real faith or acquiescence of the other's mind, which, whatever it might be, must elude his penetra- tion if the man should make an unequivocal statement with a view to his health rather than a regard to truth. 'Hugh Laverock an old decrepid man 67 years of age, and John Apprice, a blind man, were both consigned to the fire, for being true to the sentiments and faith they had in them, in their profession. That is, for declaring they did not believe the fashionable doctrines of that day, but deemed them contrary to scripture. They were both chained to one stake. — Three women, named Catharine Hut, Joan Homes, and Elizabeth Thackwell, were apprehended and sent before Bonner, for not conforming to the order of the church, and not believing the real presence of Christ's body in the sa- crament of the altar. They were all fastened to one stake at Smithfield, and their bodies consumed by fire. — Sometime after this, thirteen persons, consisting of eleven men and two women, were all burnt together iu one fire at stratford-le-Bow, chained to different stakes — for the same crime, of denying assent to the common prescribed creed. — Hundreds of other instances, of equal atrocity, stand on record. Such are the consquences of a mistaken or misrepre- sented notion of faith. At this present day, it is often found to be the case that a person is thought to merit something by faith, and be worthy of better usage, if he believes some important articles than he would if he did not. There is a numerous class of men in this country, having great influence in this way. ■ Even now, if one makes application to some of our leading men for the office of superintending a seminary of learning, or the humble occupation of instructing chil- dren, his faith concerning some mystical topic, shall be considered a very essential point in his qualification. If he asks for the presidency of an academy, the post of a tutor in a college, a professorship, or sometimes for 89 the menial station of a doorkeeper, — some of the first questions put him, in probing his accomplishments, shall be, do you believe in divinerevelation ? — do you believe the Gospel of the evangelists ? — do you be- lieve the scriptures ? &c. The leaders want only such as consider these to be proper questions, although they do not consider them so theirselves. Consequently, if they get negative answers, they promptly refuse their patronage, and say, you can have no employment here. Such is the effect that either a slack or a deceitful way of denning this idea, has upon society. The common people who have suffered by it, have overlooked the source of the evil when artful men have craftily put into use an irregular assignment of this word ; when, theirselves being aware that faith is not a thing under the direction of human will, yet publicly adopt and make current a definition which leads the commonalty to consider it as a part of character for which they are to give an account. If an erroneous notion of faith has such consequences — if such are the consequences of wrongly conceiving the nature of faith, how import- ant is it that men be duly cautious in settling the pre- cise items of that composite idea to which they habitu- ally attach this word ! If faith is thought to be of such importance as to stamp the character and to fix the destiny of individuals and nations ; and if mankind are thought worthy of death or of coercion for their faith, if it be of this or that particular sort ; it is certainly of -irgent moment to exactly define it. 7* 90 CHAPTER XII. On the folly of referring Moral Modes to Rules and Maxims sup- ported only by Literary Authorities, and which have no evi- dence but what is drawn from Tradition or ancient Writing : and the absurdity of testing Actions by such Standards. jyjLORAL modes originate from real existence. All our ideas of reflection, are derived first from such as are experienced through the sensory by the medium of corporal impressions. Mixed modes, and those which we call moral modes, made up of the diversi- ties of men's voluntary actions, consist in reflective ideas arbitrarily put together in determined compasses, if not really experienced by sensitive observation in such identical lineaments. The precise archetype may not have been found in real existence ; yet the ele- ments of which it is constituted, have all been first known there : e. g. justice, theft, ingratitude, hospi- tality : which, either have all been observed in actual existence ; or every one of the particular movements or ideas that go to compose them, have been so observed or experienced. If we had no experience of voluntary and free action, we should never frame any such ideas. If men had observed no pattern, in real existence, of any particular sort of action, they never would have thought of limiting any by defini- tions and specific ideas. If these are derived original- ly from what we experience in the powers of real be- ing ; they are also found to have their exact patterns in real life. Afterwards they have been formed without any such patterns being before us. Now, these not on- ly have their foundation in actual experience ; but their consequences are reckoned to be real : they are constantly referred to reality. Whatever enters into the efficacy of the 121 sounds is supposed to be the same, among those who are in the habit of making use of such things or listen- ing to them ; or else such sounds are thought to carry with them invariably some fixed meanings, and can no fail of exciting their peculiar ideas wherever they come- Whether this be the received way of estimating their power, or not, it is very evident such is not the effect : for I believe no reflecting and considerate person will question, that thousands of such words and phrases are daily afloat, which multitudes hearing, have very differ- ent ideas excited in their heads by means of them, from what those who deliver them purposely annex to those sounds and phrases, or are casually associated therewith in their minds, and many individuals of such multitudes, very different ones from others. Furthermore, we shall find there is so much depen- dence upon the infallible efficacy of the sounds, that even those who deliver them, have, at one time, differ- ent notions in this connection, from what they have at another. Now, these are not a fair challenge to faith. Propositions made up with these, are not a fair chal- lenge to faith. For, be your intention what it will, how can I believe the proposition you make to me, except I receive it ? And how can I receive it, ex- cept I am satisfied of the ideas you connect with your words ? How can I have faith in what you state, when either I am at a loss whether I have the same ideas excited in me by your words, which you design them to stand for ; or have no determined ideas at all con- stantly arising by means of them ; so that sometimes J receive them in one sense and sometimes another ? I may believe some proposition, though at the same time not the one you make, because the different ap- propriations I make of the signs, constitute a very dif- ferent proposition. — This is. an idle way of using words that need explanation, which divers people give into, and practice sometimes elusively, through fear that a candid and liberal explanation of their terms 11 122 should expose the absurdities oftheir preaching. Tin entrench themselves behind the ambiguity of their signs. If the plain meaning of their expressions ac- cording to common propriety, be accepted or allowed, it would at once expose the inconsistencies and crade- ness of some connected ports of their discourses, and if their secret peculiar meanings be publicly divulged, direct prejudice would be done to their whole scale of doctrine, by disclosing the mischievous deceitfulnessof their views. Such, at least, we may presume is the case with sortie, who diffusely deal in vague expressions. — The word regeneration is one which is extremely obscure, in the way it is commonly used ; and those who make show of defining it, so far from casting light, involve its sense in deeper darkness. — The literal in- terpretation is, ( being born again.' This is im'possi- ble — So then it is said the meaning is no such thing : but, that, the word being used figuratively, the tiling intended is emblematical of such a conceit as a repeated birth, or, in other words, a new birth ;— and is a strange inward change. It is a very strained figure, to make the best of it. What is the meaning, at last ?— A moral change ? Is it a change of disposition and character ? This is very compi-ehensible, and plain enough. That a person changes his conduct in consequence of contemplation and reasoning on some certain subjects, whereby all his habits become changed, is very easy to conceive. This is a reformed character. The affections, the hi-bits of thinking, and the course of life, are all differ- ent from what they were. But no : — they say it is not this — Regeneration is something different from this — & mystical change — an inward change in the very soul, that no one can describe but he who has experi- enced it in fact. How then can any one else have ;* determinate and true idea of it excited in him by the sound of that word ? — It may be pretended that this regeneration, or being born anew, is neither physical 123 nor moral, — but spiritual. If so, there is ultimately no settled meaning to the word. For when the mean- ing of a word is shuffled out of the grasp of common apprehension, and resolved into an inconceivable sub- tlety, I aver it has no meaning at all belonging to it. But there is a set of men which prefers sounds to sense ; and places more stress upon names than upon the things they make pretence to signify. — No less vague is the word hull. This has very different fantazies attached to it in the minds of many that speak and that hear it. I desire to know what is the true meaning of a word which almost every person receives in a different sense from others ? If hell is a place, where is it ? One man associates with the idea of this sound the idea of a place far below his feet, in the bowels of the earth. — Another perhaps, attaches to it the idea of a point in open space between the surfaces of distant globes — below the earth, and betwixt it and some other parts of the universe. Another fancies hell is situated in one of the comets. While another, probably, understands by the word, merely the anguish of a guilty conscience, and deems that the person who suffers the pangs of remorse and compunctious regret for any thing in his own course he looks back upon and disapproves, actu- ally endures the pains of hell. — Now, the meaning of the word is very different when understood in this sense wherein the idea of place has nothing to do, but only an affection or emotion of the human soul, from what it is in all others it is commonly received in. Therefore we may conclude, this word has jio invariable senti- mental meaning, among the common people where it is daily used. Surely those who connect so very diffe- rent conceptions with the same sign, cannot hold intel- ligible discourse together on such a point. — But sounds are accepted without meanings ; and pass very currently instead of sense. Like may be remarked of heaven. — People have almost as various conceptions of such a place, which come into their fancies upon hearing of that 124 name, as they have countenances. — Glory to God, is ao expression, very obscure in purport. What do people mean when they say glory to God? — Is it the expres- sion of a wish that glory may be given to God ? If he already has glory in perfection, it is an idle wish : and if glory cannot be given him more than he has, it mitsl be a puerile expression indeed. If, as is said by these same people, he is replete with glory ineffable and not to be surpassed nor increased, what sense is there in desiring or commanding that glory may be given to him ? But if mortal men cannot add to his glory, b«t, as they also sa)^, their taking his name into their pol- luted lips dishonors it, what propriety is there in com- manding or requesting men to give him glory ? — Much is said about the declarative glory of God, by these same people, as if God's glory were really to be ad- advanced by the efforts of men : notwithstanding they assert that nothing which human power* can effect, can ever add a jot to his honor or glory ; but rather the very reverse if possible ; yet speaking strictly all con- fess the subject is extremely beyond human influence. It is said to be conducive to the declarative glory of God, to publish certain sorts of books and pamphlets, and utter certain discourses and hymns. Perhaps is meant merely the declaration of God's glory among men, and exhibiting and elucidating it to the notice of intelligent creatures — At the same time they say it is both incomprehensible and unutterable. So then, what will the meaning be resolved to, at last ? The great miscluef arises from a default of full and clear definitions of important words in discourses thought to be of weighty consequence. — What pity it is that long and solemn discourses should be daily held forth, about things supposed to be of serious concern to mankind, without having in them a single logical defi- nition of any of the principal words ! The word faith is generally left without definition by those who dis- course most on it. And we shall often hear elaborate 125 dissertations, of which the prime scope is to prove the indispensable urgency, and momentous effects of faith, in which yet it is never fairly stated wherein it consists. This, and several other words, ought to be critically defined, and in a manner that hearers cannot easily mis- conceive, by those who deliver discourses out of pulpits, on such topics. — Great noise is made about the spread of infidelity . This word too is used very loosely, and there is a hundred chances to one that hearers do not get the same idea of it, that is usually in the minds of those that speak. It is fashionably connected with immorality. The same things are said to promote the spread of infidelity and immorality. Depravation of morals, is associated with the idea of infidelity. It is said, the writings of free-thinkers, tend directly to deprave the hearts of men ; and that to read the books of a certain class of philosophers whose investigations are free, and unfettered by any sectarian prejudice, makes mankind licentious and unprincipled. This, stated as a matter of fact, requires, for proof, the effect to be adduced. But where shall we find out this effect ? Is any greater proportion of those persons who read books of that sort, licentious or any how extravagant in their conduct, than of those who, being trained to hold them in abhorrence, are austerely drilled to the rules of religious establishments, and read no other books but such as are prescribed by some ecclesiastical cabinet, if they read any at all ? I question whether the fact ean be produced, that any individual who has read the books of serious free-thinkers, is, after the reading of them, actually more roguish, more unstable, more intemperate, more hard-hearted, more deceitful, or more quarrelsome, in consequence of reading those books, than he was before — But if it were true that this reading has this tendency to make the moral characters of men more depraved and degenerate, certainly the -effect would be seen in the conduct and conversation of such persons as had practised this reading. Those 11* 126 who had been reading such writings, would be observed to be more loose, and some way or other iniquitous, in their course, than they were before they had seen any such books. Yet, indeed, we seldom find any other than serious and inoffensive persons acquainted with such books. But none will read philosophical books, except thinking persons. — I contend, then, this is not the effect. It is a false alarm. ' The books of free-think- ers do not conduce to demoralize the world. CHAPTER XV. Of the use of Faith. V ERY small acquaintance with the condition of man, and the common ways of the world, will shew, beyond doubt, that faith has great use in human life. Our knowledge is very bounded, and serves but a part of our purposes. — The husbandman does not know he shall have a crop, nor that a single kernal will sprout, when he sows his grain. He does not even know the same order of seasons will continue. He depends on faith. Faith induces him to act, and employ the ne cessary means to the end desired. — Nor has the astrono- mer hisself knowledge that an eclipse will take place at a certain time future, although he computes it on established demonstrative principles. For the truth of these principles rests upon the supposition that the great bodies of the mundane system shall hold their motions undisturbed, and their same relations to each other : which being future, and their dependences extending far out of the boundaries of our comprehension, he does not know, but only has faith of a high degree ; — that is, he has assurance of it, and this is faith : and this is the manner in which he must entertain the proposition ui of the eclipse, till the moment when it happens; and then he has knowledge that such an appearance takes place at such a moment of time. Most of our undertakings proceed from faith ; and are grounded and modified upon this principle, that we have faith that such and such things are or will be, where indeed we have no knowledge. The phy- sician has not knowledge that twenty grains of tartar will produce a retrogade motion in the stomach of the patient to which he exhibits it. He acts by vir- tue of faith. A merchant in Philadelphia, who has never been abroad, does not know that such a place as London exists, when he puts on board a cargo of 30,000 dollars value and consigns it to that place. — The degree of faith he has, prevails with him to re- solve on that adventure. By faith also judges and juries act, in settling matters referred to them. Demon- stration seldom enters into judicial discussions. It is their faith that dictates their decrees. Probable evidence is that which is commonly used in these inquests, and not demonstrative. Their deliberations are supposed to proceed on the evidence of probabili- ty only, and hot of demonstration nor the memory of sensitive knowledge. Testimony of others is the chief source of information. Unless the jurors or judges are eye-witnesses or ear-witnesses of the facts in question, they do not give verdicts from know- ledge, but from faith, correspondent to the degree of probability or evidence exhibited. If fifty men testi- fy under oath that they saw a certain man murder an- other, the jury not being theirselves witnesses of the fact, do not render a verdict of guilt against that man from knowledge, but from faith only — faith of a high degree — perhaps assurance — for the probability may be so great upon one side, as scarcely to admit any at all upon the other. They do not knoiv that that man has killed the other ; they believe he has, or else they have assurance that he has. 128 So, if I hold a note of hand from another, promising •one hundred dollars; and, when charged with it be- fore a judge, he acknowledges his signature — the judge does not know lhat he honestly owes me that sum of money — has not knowledge of that debt ; but only faith : it appears highly probable that he owes me a hundred dollars ; and this gives him assurance. or induces him to believe, beyond question, that the sum is thus due : and therefore he gives his opinion that the man is indebted to me in the sum of one hun- dred dollars, and pronounces his decree that he shall pay me that sum. And thus, according to the de- grees of probability, verdicts are rendered for great- er or less damages, in cases where one man is re- presented to have injured another. Whereby we see faith has daily use in courts of jurisprudence, and all judicial investigations ; and therefore is indispensable in the affairs of civil society. Thus, upon critical ex- amination, we shall see there are but few cases where men have knowledge, to act upon and be guided by, in their pursuits. Faith serves the purpose of directing us upon our necessary recourses in life. The use of faith consists in its causality in respect to the determi- nation of the will. Faith causes some determinations of will, which, if that faith did not exist, would not take place. — The true use of faith, is to set men upon some course of action or some expedient calculated to preserve their existence or to promote their happiness or perfection. In but few cases of our purposes of life, we have the clear sunshine of certain knowledge for our guide to direct us upon our pursuits ; but most- ly take our latitude and departure from that crepuscu- lous state of mind called faith. Faith has the adaptation to produce a determination of our choice and will. In consequence of belief or as- surance or some degree of faith or other, of the tend- ency of certain expedients I propose to go about, or of the qualities of things I am to apply, I am deter- mined on courses of action which if I find result ad- 129 vantageously, prove faith to have an important utility . Faith is a state of mind that is immediately inductive to determination and conduct of some sort or other. We see it has effect, in our lives. This is beyond question. The true and right use of faith, according to the propriety of moral estimation, lies in its causing de- terminations which are morally good, or, at least, be- ing justifiable, are any such as tend to secure the pre- servation or improvement of mankind, And this causali- ty is rational, comprehensible, and not contrary to the ordinary course and constitutions of things. Conse- quently, when faith, in any instance, does not direct- ly tend to such a production, it has not its true use. It is not, in that instance, useful. I know it is not an uncommon thing to ascribe t© faith a utility which it has not ; and fancifully derive things that do not rationally and legitimately flow from it. A fashion in high vogue, is to make false de- ductions from faith, and refer to this consequences which must necessarily emanate from some, other prin- ciple. So we shall find a multitude of sectaries teach- ing that evangelical faith is indispensably necessary to true holiness. They say there can be no genuine be- nignity in the world, without a particular sort of faith — say, faith in such a particular doctrine, necessarily begets love to mankind, devotion, patience ; and all the amiable sisterhood of the social virtues. But, can this be maintained by arguments or facts ? Virtue seems rather to flow from knowledge than faith : at least it comes from no peculiar tenet : for a man to be inclined to beneficence, what more is requisite than to be assured that beings of the same make as him- self, have the same wants and passions ; and that to make them happy, is to make himself safe and easy ? Certainly it is not altogether from faith, this effect proceeds ; but from knowledge and faith both. — Whatever good effects are derived from faith, in the 130 matter of inducing men to practise what is praise-wor- thy ; the error in this case lies in particularizing the premises by what is altogether foreign, and has n6 na- tural connection in the relation of causality, to the thing imputed. For it is difficult to conceive that a man's believing Mahomet made a journey to the em- pyrean, and there listening to the counsels of the Almighty Mind, registered them in a book which he called the Alcoran, and that this is the true revelation, makes him an honest man ;— or, that his believing Jesus Christ came to life after he was killed,. and, without a balloon, rose up through the air, can make him so. If I am either punctual or generous, meek or studi- ous, it is because I am induced to be so by some other considerations very different from the belief of-a par- ticular narration of incidents. 131 CHAPTER XVI. Of perversion or abuse of Faith. JL HOUGH faith has great use in the lives of men-, .aid is often of important service in directing their plans of conduct to the most valuable attainments, yet it is liable to be abused, and turned to wrong appropri- ations. On many occasions, faith is perverted ; where- by it gives rise to actions not contributive to happiness and perfection, — not necessary and fit to promote them ; but the reverse. This is when men make it an argu- ment to justify actions and prompt them to determina- tions, the propriety of which, is not to be rationally deduced from it — When they make it a reason- of con- duct which it cannot justify, and in fact is not the cause of it, but is pretended to be such, though they are in- cited to it by other considerations. — Faith is manifestly perverted when it is made a pretext, an excuse, or an incentive, to injure one's fellow-creatures. For if the right use of faith is to set man upon such actions as may conduce to his happiness and perfection, it is plain that, when it becomes a cause that induces him to injure his fellow-being, it is turned from its true use, — and turned to a wrong appropriation, — because if a man injures aaother, he injures himself : since in a state of society, the interest of every member of the community is the interest of the whole community ; — and if so, the inte- rest of the whole community is the interest of every member of it. Wherefore he cannot escape the effect of an injury done to his fellow-man, but it must do hurt to himself. Besides, to do evil is evidently contrary to* improvement, and cannot be what contributes to perfecting the human character ; but the reverse. When a man takes encouragement from his faith cr 152 belief of any particular hypothesis, to injure one or more of his fellow-creatures, he perverts his fajth : he abuses it, and turns it to a wrong use. If he takes encouragement from, or excuses himself by, his belief, to turn a tenant from His house, a teacher out of his school, or a mechanic from his shop, who professes a different tenet, he certainly makes a bad use of his faith. Whenever faith operates to bear a man aside from the path of rectitude, it must be diverted from its true use. When a man, because he believes Jesus Christ is the saviour of men and will finally prevail to bring all the people that shall be in the world, into a subjection to his will, and to confess him as the only true prophet, kills an atheist, a Mahometan, a deist, or any one of his neighbors he meets, who does not believe what he be- lieves, he abuses his faith. There are many ways of injuring one's fellow- men : and when it is done upon this principle, of another's suppposed or professed be- lief, it is called persecution. It may be death, it may be plunder, robbery, ejectment, scandal, scourging, or cudgelling. Injuries done to others on account of their faith, are called persecution. This sort of injuring folks, is called persecution. Thus, Mahometans persecute Christians ; — Christians persecute Mahometans ; — Jews persecute Christians ; and one sect of Christians perse- cutes another. This is when a person makes his own laith the ground of his justification in doing hurt to others. If I firmly believe any theory, and if, because another, in my opi- nion, does not believe the same, I do injury to him ; it is manifest that, if I did not hold such tenet, but be- lieved exactly what he believes as nearly as could be satisfactorily determined, I should not injure him ; and that, in the present case, if I vindicate my conduct in annoying that man, I set up my justification upon my faith : since the very reason of my annoying him, is th©- difference of his faith from mine. There is an indirect way of abusing faith, — when without making a conscr* 133 ence of maintaining any particular tenet in himself, and perhaps having no settled opinion on the same point, a man having found out what another's faith is, or obtain* ed satisfactory evidence of such a fact, makes a very bad use of the discovery by making that person's faith a source of mischief to him ; — which is done, when it is employed as an engine of traduction, — diminishing his reputation among such as, while they have in their power to do him good and harm, rate people according to their persuasions. Thus, one may persecute another by way of defamation and reproach. In this way a marriage may be prevented ; and a man may be de- prived of an office, or balked in any of his pursuits of subsistence or usefulness which have any degree of dependence on the favor of others. I may be on the eve of marrying a rich, beautiful, and virtuous lady, who may not be aware of my faith, and not be particu- lar about what I secretly surmise or believe concerning things she has no concern with, although those on whom she in some measure depends, who have great influence over her, are very particularly rigid in their estimate of people's characters in such a respect, and tolerate no faith but their own. Another person, out of envy or spleen, — or upon some pique that arises from conside- rations wholly independent of any scruples hisself har- bors about such faith, may go and report that by some- thing I have been heard to say, it is past question evi- dent, that in the secret belief of my heart, I am a qua- ker, a universalist, an atheist, a methodist, a deist, a Jew, a pagan philosopher, or am of some persuasion or other, that is not the same which is popular among her connections : the effect may be to utterly defeat the intended compact : whereby irreparable detriment is done my character and estate ; — I being counterbuffed from civil society, and thereafter driven from pillar to post, throughout my native country, like a pack-horse, all the remaining days of my life, without house or friend, — hissed from place to place like an inferior be- 12 134 ing : which is making a very bad use of my faith— that is, of the idea of my faith, (whether the supposition be true or not,) by turning it against my interest, and making it a cause of misfortune and deprivation, with- out any ill intent in me at all. By the like malversation I may be rebuffed from holding an office of profit and honor ; or from any advantageous employment. This is a.subtle, insidious sort of persecution ; which, however, is not uncommon, even among civilized peo- ple. CHAPTER XVII. On profession of Faith. PROFESSION of faith is a declaration that one believes a proposition, a contexture of propositions, a set of tenets, — a scale of dogmas called a system of doch trine, or a theory. Those who make declarations of this kind, are said to profess faith. Such are some- times called professors. He who professes to believe the doctrine which is held forth by the followers of Mahomet, is called a professor of Islamism, — or, other- wise, Mahumadism. He who professes to entertain with faith as high as belief, the propositions believed by those who call themselves Christians, is called a professor of Christianity : and he w,ho declares his be- lief of the doctrine delivered by Zenoand his disciples, is called a professor of stoicism. While he who makes declaration that he does not believe the proposition which affirms the existence of a God, is said to be a professor of atheism. Now, profession may be true, and it may be false. It may be sincere or insincere. A man may speak as 135 he thinks ; or he may speak contrary to what he thinks. The truth of the proposition of one's faith, is not al- ways easy to be ascertained by hearers. — For one man can have no intuition of another's ide«s, and no know- ledge that they agree or disagree as the words are joined or disjoined in such a proposition. A man's faith is a secret known only to himself. Others can have nothing more than assurance of it. This is the highest stage we can reach, towards the certainty of another's faith ; whether he have faith, or whatever it is. — Profession is accounted the sign of faith ; as words are the signs of ideas : but it is less sure, because more arbitrarily used. With regard to pro- fessions of faith, we may observe two rules for deter- mining whether they are sincere or not. In the first place, if the matter is mysterious, remote from our inves- gation, and impossible to be comprehended, we may conclude the profession is insincere, and no such faith actually has place, though it is declared to be : foras- much as one has reason to suppose others have the same sort of capacities as himself; therefore that what he cannot conceive nor form any clear idea of, they can- not. — In the next place, if the propositions professed to be believed, are absurd and contradictory, it is evi- dent the profession is not sincere. — In both these cases we may at once suspect the veracity of him who pro- fesses faith ; because we can take for granted it is im- possible to have faith in what cannot be comprehended, nor in what openly contradicts itself, which is when one and the same thing ;s both alarmed and denied of another, or when'one part of the predicate is altogether incongruous and inconsistent with the other, — as when an action is directed upon an object which is not capa- ble of receiving it, or things compared or applied toge- ther which do not admit such a habitude. If one man has no other way to get any light concern- ing another's faith but his declaration of it, he must plain- ly be liable to great deception regarding this particular. 136 He first lies at the other's mercy to get any declaration at all, for the man is not obliged to answer him if he asks him the question ; and after that he has heard his statement, he must forever remain without certainty, that he does not lie, but makes a true statement. — Yet, if he cannot attain certainty, he can, in many cases, come up to assurance. The word confession is sometimes substituted for profession : — and people are said to confess their faith, when they tell what articles they believe. This is not strictly proper ; for the words are not synonimous. Confession implies an acknowledge- ment of something done. v Thus people make confes- sions to priests, who, for money, give them pardons. But a fashion prevails, to some extent, of applying this word to the same purpose as profession : and several sects have published books which they call " Confes- sions of Faith ;" wherein they dogmatically lay down the positions which they profess to believe, and which they would have others profess to believe. The presbyterians have lately published their " Confession of Faith." Herein they have set down the articles of their creed, the rules of their discipline and ceremonies, their catechisms, and several other things ; — meaning, that they profess to believe it is proper that such and such things should be done, that such and such things should be upheld, that such professions should be made, and that such questions should have such answers. — Some cry up profession as an important duty, reckoning it essential to holiness and to true devotion. Now, if profession be good for any thing, I am sure faith itself is better. But if there be no faith, what can the pro- fession avail ? Or is that particular set of articulate sounds er other signs which purport to represent a de- claration of faith, possessed of a peculiar efficacy (with- out regard to truth) in the service of God or man, above all other signals ? You say , no, it depends upon faith. Now, then if the efficacy depends upon faith, it is no longer in the profession : for the tokens that constitute 137 the profession, are the very same things whether they are actually connected with their proper archetypes or not. It is faith itself that produces good or bad effects upon others. I believe what God Almighty has put into my mind to believe, or made appear probable to me. This is faith. It is within me. It is of good consequence, or bad ; or else it is indifferent in respect to my own and other's enjoyment, and does neither good nor hurt. The only way it has effect to do either good or hurt to others, is, by influencing my course of determination, and inducing me to perform good or bad, beneficent or injurious, actions. But I dont see that my barely telling others what faith is in me, can do either good or harm any other way than as others make a wrong use of their information. At least it is no virtue in me ; it belongs to the account of others-. CHAPTER XVIII. Of Credulity. F EW things are of more common note than a pe- culiar readiness or liableness we observe in many peo- ple to believe or acquiesce in a proposition without examining the weight of its probability, and the grounds upon which it is bottomed. — This arises from an imbe- cility of mind, which occasions it to shrink from all efforts of critical investigation ; makes it the subject of that infatuating association of the idea of verity with any and every communication from another person ; and I think includes a defect of discernment ajad of memory ; whereby many things are let slip without notice, and not registered for future direction. This imbecility is commonly called credulity. This weak- 12* 138 ness, so observable in multitudes of the people of the world, is what commonly goes by the name credulity. A credulous person believes every tiling he hears seri- ously reported. A credulous person yields his acqui- escence to a report, without consideration, by reason that a strong association has taken place in the infancy of his intellectual powers identifying verity with intent allocution ; and a lack of reflection owing to indolence or weakness : from this association, and defect of mental energy, arises the foible which we call credulity. Here- from we find some persons strongly affected by stories of apparitions, witches, and the like ; some carried away by the prescriptions of empirics, and induced to encounter much labor to get together the articles which they have been persuaded possess certain medicinal virtues; — others surprisingly moved by the oratory and strange doctrines of ranters. — One of these, on hearing assert- ed that an ointment made with vinegar and the marrow of horses' bones, is an infallible specific for the rheu- matism, and being subject to that complaint, would travel 20 miles in quest of a fresh carcass, if he heard of any horse that had died or was killed, in that distance : the other, if he heard his preacher say, in an exhortation, that he saw the Almighty, or saw Christ, straight before him, and all that was wanted, was, for his hearers to call on him aloud, and he would come down instantly and be present with them, would readily cry out, with great eagerness, (lifting both hands,) O Lord come down here ! Children are generally credulous ; and so are men who are but little experienced in the exercises of re- flection. Here is weaknes through want of practical exertion ; and through a lack of experience of the fal- lacy 'of appearances and the deceitfulness of signs ; so t } ..c the means do not yet exist, of dissolving that per- nicious association. When time, well improved by observation and reflection, has given some ascenden- cy to the discursive faculties, the same persons 139 not credulous, but circumspect in their estimate of what is proposed for their assent. 'The numerous fry of opiniated sectaries, are mostly made up of cred- ulous. A credulous person may be led by an industri- ous impostor, whose repeated inculcations eventually supersede those of others ; and he becomes the prey of designing partizans. For if he receives instructions from different persons, that which is oftenest repeated will naturally have the greatest influence. Hence he finally clings to the party who is most persevering. He is at sale to the highest bidder — or to him that will bestow the most pains to modify his opinions, and make him a proselyte. Wherefore he is likely, in the end, to become a bigot CHAPTER XIX. Of Enthusiasm. JCiNTHUSIASM has generally been understood to be a disorder of mind which deranges the scale of correspondence between faith and evidence ; where- by faith becomes excessive, rising to a higher degree than is warranted by pie degree of probability in the case. This has been thought to arise from an ardent imagination and too great susceptibility of impressions by way of the trains of association. I consider it a variety of somnia, which makes people confound faith, imagination, and knowledge. Somnia, among physicians, is a species of the diseases of volition, wherein is an excess of voluntary energy, especially in the modes of thinking, directed to one particular sort of objects, and always includes reverie. In the present case, the impressions are so strong 140 which come by way of association of the ideas of plea- sure and pain in different connexions in the imagina- tive or sensitive trains, that they operate as assurance. The patient confounds his imagination with faith; and both with knowledge ; because he recognizes no dif- ference, not only on account of the force of the first impressions, but also by reason of a defect of his dis- cernment in respect to this kind of objects. This arises from a defect of the distinguishing fa- culty, whereby the discriminations of knowledge and faith are eluded ; and from ardour of imagination, which is, in other words, but too great excitability to such sort of ideas, to wit, unreal ideas or composi- tions made up of parts of those impressed by real be- ings—but of themselves having no archetypes in ex- istence. Here is a morbid precipitancy of spirits, so far as the energy is taken up in this way. Upon these two radical faults, enthusiasm depends : — a defect, and an excess. A defect of discernment, and an excess of excitability. These constitute the proximate cause of the disorder here considered. Both these may originate from weakness of the brain — but its attendants, and immediate forerunners, are lack of attention, want of study, w r ant of reasoning — or else a misuse of reason. The voluntary energy runs upon a certain class of strange, wonderful things, and anomalous fantazies; and precludes the distinction of knowledge, faith, and imagi- nation. * What the enthusiast believes, he fancies he knows: and what he strongly imagines, being of the same train or kind, and therefore deducible from what he believes, he fancies he knows also. He feels the same impresssion in either case. He has no hesitation in declaring he knows things whlcn in fact he only surmises ; and others of which he has barely some wild unreal fantazies that affectingly come into the course of his imaginations. The excess of voluntary energy which constitutes the diagnostic of somnia in this 141 case, consists in a concentration of the power of vo- luntary thinking directed upon a train of strange ro- mantic ideas very discordant with the ordinary trains of our perceptions — such as the stories of miracles, prophecyings, witchcrafts, apparitions, ghosts, second sight, seeing things future and remote, &.c. We need not go far to find enthusiasts. We need not go into foreign countries, nor remote and rare sects. We can find them at home. We can find them among the Methodists, the Quakers, the 'Roman Catholics, the Shakers, the Baptists, and several other sects in this country. We shall find more or less enthusiasts in almost all sects. Who among us has not heard a modern exhorter, a Methodist ora Newlight preacher, in his discourse make declaration that he was in the secret of the Al- mighty's will concerning him ; that he had expe- rienced in himself what is incommunicable, inconceiva- ble to all such as have not experience of the like ; and point out the moment when, and the spot where, he instantaneously received an unspeakable inward impulsion of superior agency, and became a new crea- ture : — that he had a strange feeling : that then it was he had actual knowledge of the mysterious operation of the Spirit of God, producing a wonderful change and making him certain that he was a ^special object of the Divine Grace Credulity is favourable to enthusiasm. A credu- lous person may be an enthusiast; and an enthusiast may be credulous. But enthusiasm fixes the credu- lous person upon a particular point, and makes him obstinate in the defence of some favourite theory. Both lead the way to bigotry. But a man seldom be- comes a bigot, unless he is first an enthusiast. 142 CHAPTER XX. On the madness of demanding- confessions of Fgritb, and disclo- sures of what another secretly believes. &INCE one's faith, being an inscrutable secret beyond the limits of another's knowledge, gives ad- vantage tb great illusion, and at the same time is ve- ry seldom of use to another, whatever benefits arise from it to others being remote consequences and ad- ventitious; is it not madness to urge, under threats, a disclosure of faith ? Can that man be deemed sane, who demanding a decisive declaration of faith, holds an instrument of torture over your head, ready to in- flict the most painful coercion if you shall profess any thing different from a particular tenet or set of tenets- which he prescribes ? Nothing is easier than to deceive another about one's faith. One cannot deceive or illude another concerning any other fad so easily as his faith ; there being nothing else he can so completely conceal. For if a man makes different professions to different per- sons, their probability may balance : and one is as much in the dark as another. To press another to disclose his faith, and ask with importunity whether he believes this or that, is idle. To threaten another with pain or death for not priifrssing to believe a given proposition, or not professing to have faith of a parti- cular description, is a token of insanity. Yet such questions as the following, are often austerely put by those who have or pretend to authority over others : — Do you believe that Jesus Christ died for your sal- vation ? If you do not, you have no patronage here; ive can have none in our society, to conduet our bu- siness, but believers. Or rather, as some nations, if 143 you do not, you must be grid-ironed. So it has been, in times past, in Spain and Italy. Dost thou be- lieve the pope is infallible ? (says a Portuguese monk to an Hibernian traveller) — If thou dost not, thou wouldest do well to quit this kingdom immediately. And what is more common than, do you believe Peter fell from g?*ace when he denied his master ? Do you believe, when a man has resisted and discard- ed the Spirit of God, he is ever after reclaimable ? " Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies ;'■' and, " If you don't know what I think, you cannot hurt me for it," are old but pithy sayings and contain a very shrewd premonition to such sort of meddlers. Of what use to you, can be the idea of my faith ? Whether I believe this or that, or do not believe ei- ther, what use will you make of the knowledge or as- surance, supposing that you can get it beyond ques- tion? It is not to determine whether I am honest or not ; for you suppose me to be honest, when you ask me for my faith. You already have confidence in me that I am honest and sincere, else you would not ask me for my faith if you sincerely expect any satisfac- tion to your curiosity. Do you feel any more assu- rance of what my faith is, when I have answered your question than before ? If so, you presuppose me to be honest and to answer you sincerely, and could receive no greater assurance of it by the direct answer itself that I give you, to such a question. If you have as- surance that I am honest and upright insomuch that I shall answer you sincerely when you ask me a ques- tion what is my faith, you have it by other means than my answering that question ; for upon that assu- rance' must rest your assurance of my faith. If I am proved to be an honest man, it is proved otherways than by my answering a question ; for that could not prove it. If I be proved to be an honest man, where- fore I am expected to answer a question sincerely and according to the reality of things, it is proved other- 144 way than by my answering that question ; for that could not be a proof in such a point. Moreover, such things are always better proved by actions than 1>\ words. So that it is not to determine the question ©f my veracity, my integrity, or any part of my moral character, that you can make use of your information concerning my faith. You have a persuasion I am an honest and true man ; for, for this very reason you ask me seriously what I believe, expecting a correct answer. But though by you I am admitted an honest man, yet you are not determined whether I shall be your tutor, your attorney, your steward, your tailor, your physician, your secretary, or your farmer, be- cause it is not determined what particular faith I have, and this you think you can find out by asking me, be- cause you take me to be an honest man who will speak exactly as I think. Yet after I have answered your question, you determine that I shall not be any of these, and shall have no employment nor encourage- ment from you — because what ? — you find I do not acknowledge the same faith that you have, or such particular belief, as you wish every one should give into : and you say, such as belong to the household of faith, should be promoted; but those who do not, are not to be countenanced by you. Thus, in the first place, you have assurance that I am an honest man, and in consequence of this assu- rance, you have, perhaps, the assurance that I am an atheist, by means of my answer to your question of my belief, in case I answer in the negative when you ask the question whether I believe the existence of such a being as you call God. For if you did not first believe me a sincere man, you would not have the persuasion that I am an atheist ; because you could not rely upon my word. — This proves four things : — 1. That one may be an honest man and an atheist at the same time. 145 x». That it is not honesty that you value a man by, but his professed faith. 3. That although you decidedly approve and highly value honesty for your purposes of intercourse, as you cannot find out other people's thoughts nor rely upon their words without it, yet you reprobate an honest man for his faith, and consider him unworthy to be in any station in civil society affording an honorable support, by reason that he h3s not in him the same faith that you have, or has not some particular sort of faith which you would have prevail. 4. That while my faith has not that influence on my character to make me a dishonest man, you make it an obstacle to my livelihood, to circumscribe my pri- vileges ; and, though my faith does not make me injure any man, yet you having found out my faith by means of my honesty, it makes you injure me, in that you turn it to my disadvantage. — This may be considered as one way of perverting other people's faith, by turning it against their interest and well-being in society. That you have no good motive in all this, appears plain : but that you have some sinister end in view is evident, — to wit — to promote some design to which moral honesty is not essential, but some particular per- suasion of mind which will induce one to do what ho- nesty and goodness would not exact nor allow. — Itmay be to employ a set of men in a sort of ceremonial de- votion, and maintain them in the preaching of a sort of doctrine ; and, withal, to keep in repute certain anti- quated symbolical usages to distinguish a party and dignify it with a superior estimate above others. 13 146 CHAPTER XXI. Whether it be right on any occasion to deceive usurpers, - profess contrarily to what we really believe. 3JL0ST people ere fully satisfied of a propriety of deceiving the lunatic, the delirious, the insane, and the intoxicated ; and are persuaded they do what is their duty when they take deadly weapons unaware out of their hands and conceal them, craftily illuding these disordered persons, to the intent of keeping them out of the perpetration of mischievous violence ; whereby they avert evils which every rational mind might de- precate. This is a very prevailing sentiment, and appears to be entirely conscionable, forasmuch as those who having lost their only guide and directory, are incapable of governing themselves, have need to be superintended by such as are capable of governing them : and otherwise, peaceable bystanders were in imminent hazard ; for the like might be expected from them as from wild beasts. We also find it proper, on many occasions, to de- ceive children, before they are capable of governing themselves ; and it is right for those who do not know what is their duty, — to be compelled to walk within certain bounds, by such as do know. If this be so, there is no more to do but to decide whether these tyrannizing fanatics we are here alluding to, are, properly, delirious, insane, or otherwise in the predicament of those we account it proper to deceive, or not, in order to settle the question under hand, whe- ther we may conscientiously deceive these respecting our faith : that is, whether those who assuming domi- nion over others' minds, and being in power, go about in earnest to put the lives of peaceable individuals ij* 147 jeopardy upon a challenge of faith or want of faith in regard to any article, may consistently be judged irra tional and deranged, or not. For it is plain, if these are in the same condition and class, and it is justi- fiable to deceive maniacs, it is right, on the like prin- ple, to deceive these, with the same sort of intentions. And for this, it seems very natural to infer from the same appearances by which we are used to discriminate derangement of various species, that any man who otherwise possessing the natural powers of the human mind, having perhaps been sometimes regular and consistent in his carriage, whether he be a king, a cardinal, a friar, a bishop, or a blacksmith, seriously demands, under threats of death in any shape, — fire, rack, gridiron, or gibbet, a particular confession or declaration of acquiescence in a prescribed creed, is out of his right mind — is delirious or insane. If a man, holding a sword or bayonet against my breast, requires me to make a particular profession of faith, and declares if I do not he will run me through, I have reason to conclude that man is deranged ; and have a right and a duty, to take the same steps with him as with one in the deliriums of a fever. If any pope or other despot makes an edict decree- ing that every man who does not or shall not profes3 the belief of prescribed articles of faith, shall be broken on the rack, burnt at the stake, nailed upon a cross, hung upon a gibbet, chained in a dungeon, roaste$ upon a gridiron, or beheaded by an axe or guillotine ; that prince, pope, emperor, king, cardinal, or bishop, who makes such edict, and any of his emissaries who car- ries it into execution, I must confess I cannot avoid deeming a maniac ; and I believe there are few reflect- ing men that will not concur with me. And I main- tain it is right to deceive such person, in such a case, by speaking contrarily from what are the real senti- ments of my mind if I happen not to have that particu- lar faith in me, which is required, and making him be.- 148 lieve, if possible, that I have that faith, while in fact I have not, — for the purpose of saving my life ; for my life is of consequence to others, and I am under obliga- tion to preserve myself: besides, I may divert the maniac from committing an atrocity which, were he sane, he must forever regret. Moreover, these, perchance, are not all maniacs. They may be considered in a different light. The next point of view, therefore, in which we shall place them, is that of hardened villains, who with some am- bitious design to promote a favorite establishment, to which the upholding or admission of unproved princi- ples is indispensable, stop not at putting all persons to death who oppose them even in opinion. Here, they come in the character of one who sets at defiance human feeling, and has totally abandoned the cultivation of sympathy. They are such kind of ad- versaries as robbers, pirates, and plunderers. To save life, men do not scruple to illude them. — When a man is attacked by a highway assassin, and his life put at instant hazard, he is apt to pel Jttade himself he acts justly in parrying the death-designed blow, by another which takes away the life of the assailant. — If a man presents a pistol and threatens to blow my brains out in an instant if I do not betray my friend or lead him to the spot where his treasures are deposited, I am right in using deceit to extricate myself from this dilemma — because it is better to deceive a mortal enemy, — an enemy to society, (at least it is the less evil of the two,) than to deceive my friend. So, if a man holds a pistol to my breast, saying, do you believe bread and ivine are the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ I I ask you but once — if you do not declare that you believe it, I will blow you into eternity in a moment, — I contend it is right, even if I do not believe it, to tell him contrary to the thoughts of my heart, that I do, for the purpose of saving my life to be use- ful to my friends and my country, and save him from 149 the commission of a crime. For it is no more unnatu- ral to apply the tongue in misrepresenting the thoughts of the heart, than with the hands voluntarily to do violence to the body of a fellow-being and inflict pain. For both are unnatural, and neither one nor the other is allowable except in some extreme case, where is some obvious overbalance of good to result. Truth is to be revered. Speech is the common conduit of truth, and the medium for reciprocating the advantages of society. It is not to be perverted. It is not, with impunity, to be prostituted to the base purpose of falsehood. Yet in some extreme cases, such as those I have in- stanced, we have a duty to make a profession contrary to our faith. CHAPTER XXII. QrEiiY — "Whether, in regard to matters of Faith, those were most deluded who made martyrs, or those who suffered martyr- dom. JL AM about to introduce a question which may be thought to be of little consequence at this time of day ; which yet I am persuaded will be found of no very remote kindred to some of our most interesting speculations now. For though persecution is noi car- ried to the excess, in civilized nations, that it was two hundred years ago ; yet it still makes its appearance through a disguise, and sometimes anno}- OOME opinions have consequence in our purposes of life, and some have not. Faith, in regard to some matters, and the degree of it, is of important efficiency in some cases of our voluntary course ; in others, it is perfectly trivial, and produces no effect in the course of our determinations. "Those propositions, of which neither the belief nor disbelief, faith nor want of faith, has any good or bad effect upon men's lives, may be called trivial propositions. Innumerable of this sort of propositions are daily written and spoken. A few ex- amples of which, are such as these : A crow flew from an old pine tree, directly south, two hundred rods, and alighted upon a birch. A laborer felling an ash, the top of it fell upon a brush- heap and frightened two quails lodging thereabouts y ivho thereupon ran and hid tliemselves under a hedge. ' And Samlah died, and Saul of Rehoboth by the river, reigned in his stead? A. farmer's dog, running along through a public town, stopped and '■n