ANCIENT AND MODERN

CELEBRATED FREETHINKERS. 

REPRINTED FROM AN ENGLISH WORK, ENTITLED

"HALF-HOURS WITH THE FREETHINKERS. "

By "Iconoclast. ", A. Collins, and J. Watts

("Iconoclast", pseud. Of Charles Bradlaugh. )

Edited by "Iconoclast, "

Boston

Published By J. P. Mendum

1877. 

CONTENTS:

 EDITORS' PREFACE. 

 THOMAS HOBBES. 

 LORD BOLINGBROKE. 

 CONDORCET. 

 SPINOZA. 

 ANTHONY COLLINS. 

 DES CARTES. 

 M. DE VOLTAIRE. 

 JOHN TOLAND. 

 COMPTE DE VOLNEY. 

 CHARLES BLOUNT. 

 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 

 CLAUD ARIAN HELVETIUS. 

 FRANCES W. D'ARUSMONT. 

 EPICURUS

 ZENO, THE STOIC

 MATTHEW TINDAL. 

 DAVID HUME

 DR. THOMAS BURNET

 THOMAS PAINE. 

 BAPTISTE DE MIRABAUD

 BARON D'HOLBACH. 

 ROBERT TAYLOR. 

 JOSEPH BARKER. 

EDITORS' PREFACE. 

In these pages, appearing under the title of "Half-Hours with theFreethinkers, " are collected in a readable form an abstract of the livesand doctrines of some of those who have stood foremost in the ranks ofFree-thought in all countries and in all ages; and we trust that ourefforts to place in the hands of the poorest of our party a knowledgeof works and workers--some of which and whom would otherwise be out oftheir reach--will be received by all in a favorable light. We shall, in the course of our publication, have to deal with many writers whoseopinions widely differ from our own, and it shall be our care to dealwith them _justly_ and in all cases to allow them to utter in their ownwords their essential thinkings. 

We lay no claim to originality in the mode of treatment--we willendeavor to cull the choicest flowers from the garden, and if otherscan make a brighter or better bouquet, we shall be glad to have theirassistance. We have only one object in view, and that is, the presentingof free and manly thoughts to our readers, hoping to induce likethinking in them, and trust-ing that noble work may follow noblethoughts. The Freethinkers we intend treating of have also been FreeWorkers, endeavoring to raise men's minds from superstition and bigotry, and place before them a knowledge of the real. 

We have been the more inclined to issue the "Half-Hours with theFreethinkers" in consequence, not only of the difficulty which many havein obtaining the works of the Old Freethinkers, but also as an effectiveanswer to some remarks which have lately appeared in certain religiouspublications, implying a dearth of thought and thinkers beyond the paleof the Church. We wish all men to know that great minds and good men_have_ sought truth apart from faith for many ages, and that it isbecause few were prepared to receive them, and many united to _crush_them, their works are so difficult of access to the general mass at thepresent day. 

THOMAS HOBBES. 

This distinguished Freethinker was born on the 5th of April, 1588, atMalmesbury; hence his cognomen of "the philosopher of Malmesbury. " Inconnection with his birth, we are told that his mother, being a loyalProtestant, was so terrified at the rumored approach of the SpanishArmada, that the birth of her son was hastened in consequence. Thesubsequent timidity of Hobbes is therefore easily accounted for. Thefoundation of his education was laid in the grammar school of his nativetown, where most probably his father (being a clergyman) would officiateas tutor. At the age of fifteen he was sent to Oxford. Five years ofassiduous study made him proficient as a tutor; this, combined with hisamiability and profound views of society, gained him the respect of theEarl of Devonshire, and he was appointed tutor to the Earl's son, LordCavendish. From 1610 to 1628, he was constantly in the society of thisnobleman, in the capacity of secretary. In the interval of this time hetravelled in France, Germany, and Italy; cultivating in each capitalthe society of the leading statesmen and philosophers. Lord Herbert, ofCherbury, the first great English Deist, and Ben Jonson, the dramatist, were each his boon companions. In the year 1628, Hobbes again made thetour of the Continent for three years with another pupil, and becameacquainted at Pisa with Galileo. In 1631 he was entrusted with theeducation of another youth of the Devonshire family, and for near fiveyears remained at Paris with his pupil. 

Hobbes returned to England in 1636. The troublous politics of this age, with its strong party prejudices, made England the reverse of a pleasantretirement, for either Hobbes or his patrons; so, perceiving theoutbreak of the Revolution, he emigrated to Paris. There in theenjoyment of the company of Gassendi and Descartes, with the _elite_ ofParisian genius, he was for awhile contented and happy. Here he engagedin a series of mathematical quarrels, which were prolonged throughoutthe whole of his life, on the quadrature of the circle. Seven yearsafter, he was appointed mathematical tutor to the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles II. In 1642, Hobbes published the first of hisprincipal works, "De Cive, or Philosophical Rudiments ConcerningGovernment and Society. " It was written to curb the spirit of anarchy, then so rampant in England, by exposing the inevitable results whichmust of necessity spring from the want of a coherent government amongsta people disunited and uneducated. The principles inculcated in thiswork were reproduced in the year 1651, in the "Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and Power of a Commonwealth, Ecclesiastical and Civil;" this, along with a "Treatise on Human Nature, " and a small work on "TheBody Politic, " form the groundwork of the "selfish schools" of moralphilosophy. As soon as they were published, they were attacked by theclergy of every country in Europe. They were interdicted by the Pontiffsof the Roman and Greek Church, along with the Protestants scattered overEurope, and the Episcopal authorities of England. Indeed, to such anextent did this persecution rise, that even the royalist exilesreceived warning that there was no chance for their ostracism beingremoved, unless "the unclean thing (Hobbes) was put away from theirmidst. " The young prince, intimidated by those ebullitions of vengeanceagainst his tutor? was obliged to withdraw his protection from him, andthe old man, then near seventy years of age, was compelled to escapefrom Paris by night, pursued by his enemies, who, according to LordClarendon, tracked his footsteps from France. Fortunately for Hobbes, hetook refuge with his old protectors, the Devonshire family, who were toopowerful to be wantonly insulted. While residing at Chatsworth, he wouldno doubt acutely feel the loss of Descartes, the Cardinal de Richelieu, and Gassendi; in the place of those men he entered into a warmfriendship with Cowley, the poet, Selden, Harvey, the discoverer ofthe circulation of the blood, Charles Blount, and the witty Sir ThomasBrown. 

In 1654, he published a "Letter upon Liberty and Necessity;" thisbrief tractate is unsurpassed in Free-thought literature for its clear, concise, subtle, and demonstrative proofs of the self-determining powerof the will, and the truth of philosophical necessity. All subsequentwriters on this question have largely availed themselves of Hobbes'sarguments, particularly the pamphleteers of Socialism. It is a fact noless true than strange, that Communism is derived from the system ofHobbes, which has always been classed along with that of Machiavelli, asan apology for despotism. The grand peculiarity of Hobbes is his method. Instead of taking speculation and reasoning upon theories, he carriedout the inductive system of Bacon in its entirety, reasoning fromseparate generic facts, instead of analogically. By this means henarrowed the compass of knowledge, and made everything demonstrativethat was capable of proof. Belief was consequently placed upon itsproper basis, and a rigid analysis separated the boundaries of Knowingand Being. Hobbes looked at the great end of existence and embodied itin a double axiom. 1st. The desire for self-preservation. 2nd. To renderourselves happy. From those duplex principles which are inherent inall animals, a modern politician has perpetrated a platitude whichrepresents in a sentence the end and aim of all legislation, "thegreatest happiness for the greatest number. " This is the _ultimatum_of Hobbes's philosophy. Its method of accomplishment was by treatingsociety as one large family, with the educated and skilled as governors, having under their care the training of the nation. All acting fromone impulse (self-preservation, ) and by the conjoint experience of all, deriving the greatest amount of happiness from this activity. Hobbesopposed the Revolution, because it degenerated into a faction; andsupported Charles Stuart because there were more elements of cohesionwithin his own party, than amongst his enemies. It was here where thecry of despotism arose; the "Round-heads" seeing they could not detachthe ablest men from the King's party, denounced their literary opponentsas "lovers of Belial, and of tyranny. " This was their most effectiveanswer to the "Leviathan. " In after years, when the Episcopal party nolonger stood in need of the services of Hobbes, they heaped upon him thestigma of heresy, until his _ci-devant_ friends and enemies were unitedin the condemnation of the man they most feared. Mr. Owen, in his schemaof Socialism, took his leading idea on non-responsibility from Hobbes'sexplanation of necessity, and the freedom of the will. The old divineshad inculcated a doctrine to the effect that the "will" was a separateentity of the human mind, which swayed the whole disposition, and was ofitself essentially corrupt. Ample testimony from the Bible substantiatedthis position. But in the method of Hobbes, he lays down the facts thatwe can have no knowledge without experience, and no experience withoutsensation. The mind therefore is composed of classified sensations, united together by the law of an association of ideas. This law wasfirst discovered by Hobbes, who makes the human will to consist inthe strongest motive which sways the balance on any side. This is thesimplest explanation which can be given on a subject more mystified thanany other in theology. 

A long controversy betwixt Bishop Bramhall, of Londonderry, followed thepublication of Hobbes's views on Liberty and Necessity. Charles II. Onhis restoration, bestowed an annual pension of £100 on Hobbes, but thisdid not prevent the parliament, in 1666, censuring the "De Cive" and"Leviathan, " besides his other works. Hobbes also translated the Greekhistorian, Thucydides, Homer's Odyssey, and the Illiad. The last yearsof his life were spent in composing "Behemoth; or, a History of theCivil Wars from 1640 to 1660, " which was finished in the year he died, but not published until after his death. At the close of the year 1679, he was taken seriously ill. At the urgent request of some Christians, they were permitted to intrude their opinions upon his dying bed, telling him gravely that his illness would end in death, and unless herepented, he would go straight to hell. Hobbes calmly replied, "I shallbe glad then to find a hole to creep out of the world. " For seventyyears he had been a persecuted man, but during that time his enemieshad paid him that tribute of respect which genius always extorts fromsociety. He was a man who was hated and dreaded. He had reached the ageof ninety-two when he died. His words were pregnant with meaning; andhe never used an unnecessary sentence. A collection of moral apothegmsmight be gathered from his table-talk. When asked why he did not readevery new book which appeared, he said, "If I had read as much as othermen, I should have been as ignorant. " His habits were simple; herose early in the morning, took a long walk through the grounds ofChatsworth, and cultivated healthful recreation. The after part of theday was devoted to study and composition. Like Sir Walter Raleigh, hewas a devoted admirer of the "fragrant herb. " Charles II. 's constantwitticism, styled Hobbes as "a bear against whom the Church played theiryoung dogs, in order to exercise them. "

If there had been a few more similar "bears, " the priestly "dogs" wouldlong since have been exterminated, for none of them escaped unhurt fromtheir encounters with the "grizzly" of Malmesbury, except it was in themathematical disputes with Dr. Wallis. 

He was naturally of a timid disposition: this was the result of theaccident which caused his premature birth, and being besides of areserved character, he was ill-fitted to meet the physical rebuffs ofthe world. It is said that he was so afraid of his personal safety, thathe objected to be left alone in an empty house; this charge is to someextent true, but we must look to the mitigating circumstances of thecase. He was a feeble man, turned the age of three-score and ten, withall the clergy of England hounding on their dupes to murder an oldphilosopher because he had exposed their dogmas. It was but a few yearsbefore, that Protestants and Papists had complimented each other'sreligion by burning those who were the weakest, and long after Hobbes'sdeath, Protestants murdered, ruined, disgraced, and placed in thepillory Dissenters and Catholics alike, and Thomas Hobbes had positiveproof that it was the intention of the Church of England to _burnhim alive_, on the stake, a martyr for his opinions. This, then, is asufficient justification for Hobbes feeling afraid, and instead ofit being thrown as a taunt at this illustrious Freethinker, it is astanding stigma on those who would re-enact the tragedy of persecution, if public opinion would allow it. 

Sir James Mackintosh says: * "The style of Hobbes is the very perfectionof didactic language. Short, clear, precise, pithy, his language neverhas more than one meaning, which never requires a second thought tofind. By the help of his exact method, it takes so firm a hold on themind, that it will not allow attention to slacken. His little tract onhuman nature has scarcely an ambiguous or a needless word. He has sogreat a power of always choosing the most significant term, that henever is reduced to the poor expedient of using many in its stead. Hehad so thoroughly studied the genius of the language, and knew so wellhow to steer between pedantry and vulgarity, that two centuries have notsuperannuated probably more than a dozen of his words. "

 * Second Dissertation: Encyclopaedia Brit. , p. 318. 

Lord Clarendon describes the personal character of Hobbes as "one forwhom he always had a great esteem as a man, who besides his eminentparts of learning and knowledge, hath been always looked upon as a manof probity, and a life free from scandal. "

We now proceed to make a selection of quotations from the works of thiswriter, commencing with those on the "Necessity of the Will, " in replyto Bishop Bramhall. 

"The question is not whether a man be a free agent--that is to say, whether he can write, or forbear, speak, or be silent, according to hiswill; but whether the will to write, and the will to forbear, come uponhim according to his will, or according to anything else in his ownpower. I acknowledge this liberty, that I can _do_, if I _will_, but tosay, I can _will_ if I _will_, I take to be an absurd speech. " Furtherreplying to Bramhall's argument, that we do not learn the "idea of thefreedom of the will" from our tutors, but we know it intuitively, Hobbessays, "It is true very few have learned from tutors that a man is notfree to will; nor do they find it much in books. That they and in booksthat which the poets chaunt in the theatres, and the shepherds on themountains, that which the pastors teach in the churches, and the doctorsin the universities; and that which the common people in the markets, and all the people do assent unto, is the same that I assent unto;namely, that a man hath freedom to do if he will; but whether he hathfreedom to will, is a question which it seems neither the Bishop northey ever thought of. .. . A wooden top that is lashed by the boys, andruns about, sometimes to one wall, sometimes to another, sometimesspinning, sometimes hitting men on the shins, if it were sensible of itsown motion, would think it proceeded from its own will, unless it feltwhat lashed it. And is a man any wiser when he runs to one place for abenifice, to another for a bargain, and troubles the world with writingerrors, and requiring answers, because he thinks he does it withoutother cause than his own will, and seeth not what are the lashings whichcause that will?"

Hobbes casually mentions the subject of "praise or dispraise, " inreference to the will; those who are old enough will remember this wasone of the most frequent subjects of discussion amongst the earlierSocialists. "These depend not at all in the necessity of the actionpraised or dispraised. For what is it else to praise, but to say _athing is good?_ Good, I say, for me, or for somebody else, or for theState and Commonwealth. And what is it to say an action is good, but tosay it is as I would wish, or as another would have it, or accordingto the will of the State--that is to say, according to the law! Doesmy lord think that no action could please me, or the commonwealth, thatshould proceed from necessity! Things may be therefore necessary, andyet praiseworthy, as also necessary, and yet dispraised, and neither ofthem both in vain; because praise and dispraise, and likewise reward andpunishment, do, by example, make and conform the will to good or evil. It was a very great praise, in my opinion, that Vellerius Paterculusgives Cato, where he says that he was good by nature, '_et quia aliteresse non potuit_. ''--'And because he could not do otherwise. '" This abletreatise was reprinted, and extensively read about twenty years ago;but, like many other of our standard works, it is at present out ofprint. 

The "Leviathan" is still readable, a bold masculine book. It treatseverything in a cool, analytic style. The knife of the Socialist issheathed in vain; no rhapsody can overturn its impassioned teachings. Rhetoric is not needed to embellish the truths he has to portray, forthe wild flowers of genius but too frequently hide the yawning chasmsin the garden of Logic. It is not to be expected that this book will beread now with the interest with which it was perused two centuries ago;then every statement was impugned, every argument denied, and the verytone of the book called forth an interference from parliament to stopthe progress of its heresies. Now the case is widely different, and thegeneral tenor of the treatise is the rule in which are illustrated alikethe works of the philosophers and the dreams of the sophists (priests. )We give part of the introduction. "Nature (the art whereby God hath madeand governs the world) is, by the art of man, as in many other things, so in this also, imitated, that it can make an artificial animal. Forseeing life is but a motion of limbs, the beginning whereof is in someprincipal part within; why may we not say that all automata (enginesthat move themselves by springs and wheels, as doth a watch) have anartificial life? For what is the heart but a spring; and the nerves butso many strings; and the joints but so many wheels, giving motion to thewhole body, such as was intended by the Artificer? Art goes yet further, imitating that rational and most excellent work of nature, man. For byart is created that great leviathan, called a Commonwealth, or State, which is but an artificial man though of greater stature and strengththan the natural, for whose protection and defence it was intended, and the sovereignty of which is an artificial soul, as giving life andmotion to the whole body. To describe the nature of this artificial man, I will consider, "1st. The _matter_ thereof, and the _artificer_, both which is man. 

"2nd. _How_, and by what _covenants_ it is made, what are the _rights_and _just_ power or authority of a sovereign; and what it is that_preserveth_ and dissolveth it. 

"3rd. What is a Christian Commonwealth. 

"Lastly, what is the kingdom of darkness. 

"The first chapter treats of 'Senses. ' Concerning the thoughts of man, Iwill consider them first singly, and afterwards in train, or dependenceupon one another. Singly, they are every one a representation, orappearance, of some quality or accident of a body without us, which iscommonly called an object. Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, andother parts of a man's body, and by diversity of working, producethdiversity of appearances. The original of them all is that which we callsense, for there is no conception in a man's mind, which hath not atfirst totally or by parts been begotten upon the organs of sense; therest are derived from that original. "

Speaking of "Imagination, " Hobbes says, "That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir it, it will lie still forever, is a truth noone doubts of. But that when a thing is in motion, it will eternallybe in motion, unless somewhat else stay it, though the reason be thesame--namely, that nothing can change itself--is not so easily assentedto. For men measure not only other men, but all other things, bythemselves; and because they find themselves subject after motion topain and lassitude, think everything else grows weary of motion, andseeks repose of its own accord--little considering whether it be notsome other motion, wherein that desire of rest they find in themselvesconsisteth. .. . When a body is once in motion, it moveth (unlesssomething else hinder it) eternally, and whatsoever hindereth it, cannotin an instant, but in time, and by degrees, quite extinguish it; andas we see in the water, though the wind cease, the waves give not overrolling for a long time after; so also it happeneth in that motion whichis made in the internal parts of man, then, when he sees, dreams, etc. For after the object is removed, or the eye shut, we still retain animage of the thing seen, though more obscure than when we see it. .. . The decay of sense in men waking, is not the decay of the motion madein sense, but an obscuring of it, in such manner as the light of the sunobscureth the light of the stars; which stars do no less exercise theirvirtue, by which they are visible in the day, than in the night. Butbecause amongst many strokes which our eyes, ears and other organsreceive from external bodies, the predominant only is sensible;therefore the light of the sun being only predominant, we are notaffected with the actions of the stars. .. . This decaying sense, whenwe would express the thing itself (I mean fancy itself), we callimagination, as I said before, but when we would express the Decay, andsignify the sense is fading, old and past, it is called Memory: sothat imagination and memory are but one thing, which, for diversconsiderations, hath divers names. " *

Such is the commencement of this celebrated book, it is based uponmaterialism; every argument must stand this test upon Hobbes'sprinciples, and characteristically are they elaborated. Hobbes ("DeCive") says of the immortality of the soul, "It is a belief groundedupon other men's sayings, that they knew it supernaturally; or thatthey knew those who knew them, that knew others, that knew itsupernaturally. " A sparkling sneer, and perhaps the truest answer toso universal an error. Dugald Stewart, in his analysis of the works ofHobbes, says, ** The fundamental doctrines inculcated in the politicalworks of Hobbes, are contained in the following propositions:--All menare by nature equal, and, prior to government, they had all an equalright to enjoy the good things of this world. Man, too, is by nature, asolitary and purely selfish animal; the social union being entirely aninterested league, suggested by prudential views of personal advantage. The necessary consequence is, that a state of nature must be a state ofperpetual warfare, in which no individual has any other means of safetythan his own strength or ingenuity; and in which there is no roomfor regular industry, because no secure enjoyment of its fruits. Inconfirmation of this view of the origin of society, Hobbes appeals tofacts falling daily within the cycle of our experience. "Does not aman, (he asks) when taking a journey, arm himself, and seek to go wellaccompanied? When going to sleep, does he not lock his doors? Nay, evenin his own house, does he not lock his chests? Does he not there accusemankind by his action, as I do by my words?" For the sake of peace andsecurity, it is necessary that each individual should surrender a partof his natural right, and be contented with such a share of libertyas he is willing to allow to others; or, to use Hobbes's own language, "every man must divest himself of the right he has to all things bynature; the right of all men to all things, being in effect no betterthan if no man had a right to anything. " In consequence of thistransference of natural rights to an individual, or to a body ofindividuals, the multitude become one person, under the name of a State, or Republic, by which person the common will and power are exercised forthe common defence. The ruling power cannot be withdrawn from those towhom it has been committed; nor can they be punished for misgovern-ment. The interpretation of the laws is to be sought, not from the commentsof philosophers, but from the authority of the ruler; otherwise societywould every moment be in danger of resolving itself into the discordantelements of which it was at first composed. --The will of the magistrate, therefore, is to be regarded as the ultimate standard of right andwrong, and his voice to be listened to by every citizen as the voice ofconscience. "

 * Leviathan. Ed. 1651. 

 ** Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical Science, p. 41. 

Such are the words of one of Hobbes's most powerful opponents. Dr. Warburton says, "The philosopher of Malmesbury was the terror of thelast age, as Tin-dal and Collins are of this. The press sweats withcontroversy; and every young churchman militant would try his arms inthundering on Hobbes's steel cap. " This is a modest acknowledgment ofthe power of Hobbes, from the most turbulent divine of the eighteenthcentury. 

Victor Comyin gives the following as his view of the philosophy ofHobbes:--"There is no other certain evidence than that of the senses. The evidence of the senses attests only the existence of bodies; thenthere is no existence save that of bodies, and philosophy is only thescience of bodies. 

"There are two sorts of bodies: 1st, Natural bodies, which are thetheatre of a multitude of regular phenomena, because they take placeby virtue of fixed laws, as the bodies with which physics are occupied;2nd, Moral and political bodies, societies which constantly change andare subject to variable laws. 

"Hobbes's system of physics is that of Democritus, the atomistic andcorpuscular of the Ionic school. 

"His metaphysics are its corollary; all the phenomena which pass inthe consciousness have their source in the organization, of which theconsciousness in itself is simply a result. All the ideas come from thesenses. To think, is to calculate; and intelligence is nothing else thanan arithmetic. As we do not calculate with out signs, we do not thinkwithout words; the truth of the thought is in the relation of the wordsamong themselves, and metaphysics are reduced to a perfect language. Hobbes is completely a nominalist. With Hobbes there are no other thancontingent ideas; the finite alone can be conceived; the infinite isonly a negation of the finite; beyond that it is a mere word invented tohonor a being whom faith alone can reach. The idea of good and evilhas no other foundation than agreeable or disagreeable sensations; toagreeable or disagreeable sensation it is impossible to apply any. Other law than escape from the one and search after the other; hencethe morality of Hobbes, which is the foundation of his politics. Manis capable of enjoying and of suffering; his only law is to suffer aslittle, and enjoy as much, as possible. Since such is his only law, hehas all the rights that this law confers upon him; he may do anythingfor his preservation and his happiness; he has the right to sacrificeeverything to himself. Behold? then, men upon this earth, where theobjects of desire are not superabundant, all possessing equal rightsto whatever may be agreeable or useful to them, by virtue of the samecapacity for enjoyment and suffering. This is a state of nature, whichis nothing less than a state of war, the anarchy of the passions, acombat in which every man is arrayed against his neighbor. But thisstate being opposed to the happiness of the majority of individuals whoshare it, utility, the offspring of egotism itself, demands itsexchange for another, to wit, the social state. The social state is theinstitution of a public power, stronger than all individuals, capableof making peace succeed war, and imposing on all the accomplishment ofwhatever it shall have judged to be useful, that is, just. "

Before we dismiss the father of Freethought from our notice, thereremains a tribute of respect to be paid to one whom it is our dutyto associate with the author of the "Leviathan, " and who has butjust passed away--one man amongst the British aristocracy with thedisposition of a tribune of the people, coupled with thoughts at onceelevated and free, and a position which rendered him of essentialservice to struggling opinion. This man saw the greatness, the profounddepth, the attic style, and the immense importance of the works ofHobbes, along with their systematic depreciation by those whose duty itshould be to explain them, especially at a time when those works werenot reprinted, and the public were obliged to glean their characterfrom the refutations (so called) by mangled quotations, and a distortedmeaning. Impelled by this thought, and anxious to protect the memory ofa philosopher, his devoted disciple, at a cost of £10, 000, translatedthe Latin, and edited the English works of Hobbes, in a manner worthyalike of the genius of the author, and the discernment of his editor. For this kindness, a seat in Parliament was lost by the organization ofthe clergy in Cornwall. The name of this man was Sir William Molesworth. Let Freethinkers cherish the memory of their benefactor. 

We now take our leave of Thomas Hobbes. He had not the chivalry ofHerbert; the vivacity of Raleigh; the cumulative power of Bacon; or thewinning policy of Locke. If his physical deformities prevented him frombeing as daring as Vane, he was as bold in thought and expression aseither Descartes, or his young friend Blount. He gave birth to thebrilliant constellation of genius in the time of Queen Anne. He didnot live to see his system extensively promulgated; but his principlesmoulded the character of the men who formed the revolution of 1688, equally as much as Hume established the Scotch and German schools ofphilosophy; and Voltaire laid the train by which the French Revolutionwas proclaimed. Peace to his memory! It was a stormy struggle during hislife; its frowns cannot hurt him now. Could we believe in the idea ofa future life, we should invoke his blessings on our cause. That causewhich for near two hundred years has successfully struggled into birth, to youth, and maturity. Striking down in its onward course superstitionswhich hath grown with centuries, and where it does not exterminate them, it supplies a purer atmosphere, and extracts the upas-sting which haslaid low so many, and which must yet be finally exterminated. The day israpidly dawning when our only deities will be the works of genius, andour only prayer the remembrance of our most illustrious chiefs. 

A. C. 

LORD BOLINGBROKE. 

Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke, was born in his family seat atBattersea, on the 1st of October 1672, and died there on November 15th, 1751, in his 79th year. He was educated by a clergyman in an unnaturalmanner, and speedily developed himself accordingly. When he left Oxford, he was one of the handsomest men of the day--his majestic figure, refined address, dazzling wit, and classic eloquence, made himirresistibly the "first gentleman in Europe. " Until his twenty-fourthyear, he was renowned more for the graces of his person, and thefascination of his wild exploits, rather than possessing a due regardto his rank and abilities. His conduct, however, was completely changedwhen he became a Member of Parliament. The hopes of his friends wereresuscitated when they discovered the aptitude for business--the readyeloquence, and the sound reasoning of the once wild St. John. He soonbecame the hardest worker and the leader of the House of Commons. Theexpectations of the nation rose high when night after night he spokewith the vivacity of a poet, and the profundity of a veteran statesmanon public affairs. In 1704, he received the seals as Secretary-of-War, and was mainly instrumental in gaining Marlborough's victories, by theactivity with which he supplied the English General with munitions ofwar. On the ascendency of the Whigs, St. John resigned his office, andretired into privacy for two years, when the Whig administration wasdestroyed, and St. John re-appeared as Secretary for Foreign Affairs. His greatest work now was the negotiation of the treaty of Utrecht. Thistreaty was signed by St. John (then Lord Bolingbroke, ) he being sent toParis as the British Plenipotentiary, and was hailed by the Parisiansas a guardian angel. To such an extent was this feeling manifested, thatwhen he visited the theatres every one _rose_ to welcome him. So long asQueen Anne lived, Bolingbroke's influence was paramount, but associatedwith him was the Earl of Oxford, in opposition to the Whig party, andserious differences had arisen between the rivals. Oxford-was dismissedfour days before the Queen's death, and Bolingbroke officiated in hisplace, until Oxford's vacancy was filled, which all expected would begiven to himself. A stormy debate in the Privy Council so agitated theQueen, that it shortened her life, and the Council recommended the Earlof Shrewsbury as Premier, and with him the Whigs. 

With the accession of George, came the impeachment of Bolingbroke by thevictorious Whigs. Knowing that it was their intention to sacrificehim to party revenge, and that his accusers would likewise act as hisjudges, he wisely withdrew himself to France. The Pretender held amimic court at Avignon, and a debating society at Lorraine, entitleda Parliament. He offered Bolingbroke the office of Secretary of State, which was accepted by him; and it was only at this time that theemanations of the exiled Stuart's cabinet possessed either a solidityof aim, or a definite purpose. If Louis XIV. Had lived longer, he mighthave assisted the Pretender, but with his death expired the hopes ofthat ill-fated dynasty. Bolingbroke strove to husband the means whichthe Chevalier's friends had collected, but the advice of the Duke ofOrmond was listened to in preference to Bolingbroke's. The results whichBolingbroke foretold--proceeding rashly and failing ignominiously--bothoccurred. The insurrection broke out, and failed--no other end couldhave been anticipated. Intrigues were fast coiling themselves around thesecretary; he was openly blamed for the reverses in Scotland--but he wasalike careless of their wrath or its issue. One morning Ormond waitedupon him with two slips of paper from the Pretender, informing himthat his services were no longer required. After his dismissal he wasimpeached by the lackeys of the Pretender under seven heads, which werewidely distributed throughout Europe. There is this anomaly in the lifeof Bolingbroke, witnessed in no other Englishman: In one year he was themost powerful man in England--Secretary of State--an exile--and thenin the same year he occupied a similar office to one who aimed at theEnglish throne, and was impeached by both parties. 

For several years he occupied himself in France with philosophicalpursuits--until the year 1723--when he received a pardon, which allowedhim to return to England, but still his sequestered estates were notreturned, and this apology for a pardon was negotiated by a bribe of£11, 000 to the German Duchess of Kendal--one of the king's mistresses. 

Alexander Pope was Bolingbroke's constant correspondent. Pope hadwon the applause of England by his poems, and was then considered thearbiter of genius. Voltaire occupied a similar position in France. Since Pope first laid the copy of his greatest epic at the feet ofBolingbroke, and begged of him to correct its errors, he had graduallywon himself that renown which prosperity has endorsed. But what a unityin divergence did those philosophers present! The calm moralism of Pope, his sweet and polished rhyme, contrasted with the fiery wit and hissingsarcasm of the Frenchman, more trenchant than Pope's, yet wantinghis sparkling epigrams. The keen discernment of both these men saw inBolingbroke a master, and they ranked by his side as twin apostles ofa new and living faith. It was the penetration of true greatness whichdiscerned in the English peer that sublimity of intellect they possessedthemselves, without the egotism of an imbecile rival. Bolingbroke hadcherished the ethics of one, and restrained the rancor of the other--andboth men yielded to him whose system they worshipped; and this trinityof Deists affords the noblest example which can be evoked to provethe Harmony of Reason amidst the most varied accomplishments. AlthoughPope's name occurs but seldom in the history of Freethought--while thatof Bolingbroke is emblazoned in all its glory, and Voltaire is enshrinedas its only Deity--yet we must not forget that what is now known asthe only collection of St. John's works (the edition in five volumesby Mallet, ) were written for the instruction of Pope--sent to him inletters--discussed and agreed to by him--so that the great essayist isas much implicated in them as the author of the Dictionary. It issaid, "In his society these two illustrious men felt and acknowledged asuperior genius; and if he had no claim to excellence in poetry--theart in which they were so pre-eminent--he surpassed them both in thephilosophy they so much admired. "

For ten years after this period, he devoted himself to various politicalwritings, which were widely circulated; but we must waive the pleasureat present of analyzing those, and confine our attention to the alliancebetween Pope and Bolingbroke, in the new school of philosophy. 

Bolingbroke's principal friends were Pope, Swift, Mallet, Wyndam, andAtterbury. The first three were most in his confidence in regardto religion: and although Pope was educated a Roman Catholic, andoccasionally conformed to that hierarchy (and like Voltaire, for peace, died in it, ) yet the philosophical letters which passed between Pope andSt. John, fully established him as a consistent Deist--an honor to whichSwift also attained, although being a dignitary of the Church: butif doubts arise on the subject, they can easily be dispelled. GeneralGrimouard, in his "Essai sur Bolingbroke, " says that "he was intimatewith the widow of Mallet, the poet, who was a lady of much talent andlearning, and had lived upon terms of friendship with Bolingbroke, Swift, Pope, and many other distinguished characters of the day, whofrequently met at her house. " The General adds, that the lady has beenfrequently heard to declare, that these men were all equally deisticalin their sentiments (_que c'était une société de purs déistes_;) thatSwift from his clerical character was a little more reserved than theothers, but he was evidently of the same sentiments at bottom. 

There is a remarkable passage in one of Pope's letters to Swift, whichseems rather corroborative of the General's. He is inviting Swift tocome and visit him. "The day is come, " he says, "which I have oftenwished, but never thought to see, when every mortal I esteem is of thesame sentiments in politics and religion. " Dr. Warton remarks upon thisparagraph "At this time therefore (1733) he (Pope and Bolingbroke wereof the same sentiment in religion as well as politics);" * and Popewriting to Swift is proof sufficient that Bolingbroke, Swift, andhimself, were united in opinions. Wherever Swift's name is known, it isassociated with his spleen on account of his not being elevated to theEpiscopal Bench, when he was promised a vacancy, which was reserved forhim; but Queen Anne absolutely refused to confer such a dignity upon theauthor of "Gulliver's Travels"--that profound satire upon society andreligion; and this occurring at a time when his energetic serviceswere so much needed in defence of the government he so assisted bypamphleteering, satire, and wholesale lampoons. Mr. Cooke says, "TheEarl of Nottingham, in the debate upon the Dissenters' Bill, chieflyfounded his objection to the provision that the Bishops should have theonly power of licensing tutors, upon the likelihood there was that aman who was in a fair way for becoming a Bishop, was hardly suspectedof being a Christian. " This pointed allusion to Swift passed withoutcomment or reply in a public assembly, composed in a great measure ofhis private friends and associates. This seems to intimate that theopinion of his contemporaries was not very strong in favor of Swift'sreligious principles. This may suffice to prove the unanimity ofsentiment existing among this brilliant coterie--one a politicalChurchman--another the greatest poet of his age--the third, the mostaccomplished statesman of his country. Although they were united inreligious conviction, it would have been certain ruin to any of theconfederates if the extent of their thoughts had reached the public ear. The Dean wrote for the present--the poet for his age--and the peer forthe immediate benefit of his friends and a record for the future. Butthey were all agreed that some code of ethics should be promulgated, which should embody the positive speculations of Bolingbroke, with theeasy grace of Pope--the elaborate research of the philosopher withthe rhetoric of the poet. Swift coalesced in this idea, but was, to acertain extent, ignorant of its subsequent history. It was not thoughtprudent to trust Mallet and others with the secret. For this purpose the"Essay of Man" was designed on the principles elaborated by Bolingbrokein his private letters to Pope. It was Bolingbroke who drew up thescheme, mapped out the arguments, and sketched the similes--it was Popewho embellished its beauties, and turned it into rhyme. Doctor Warton, the editor of Pope, also proves this:--"Lord Bathurst told the Doctorthat he had read the whole of the 'Essay on Man' in _the handwriting ofBolingbroke_, and drawn up in a series of propositions which Pope wasto amplify, versify, and to illustrate. " If further proofs are required, that Bolingbroke was not only a co-partner but coadjutor with Pope, itis found in the opening of the poem, where the poet uses the plural inspeaking of Bolingbroke--

 "Awake, my St. John, leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Laugh when we must, be candid when you can, And vindicate the ways of God to man. "

 * Cook's Life of Bolingbroke, 2nd vol. , p. 97. . 

This is sufficient to prove the partnership in the poem, and from thegenerally acknowledged fact of his connection, we have no hesitation indeclaring that this poem is the grand epic of Deism, and is as much theoffspring of Bolingbroke, as his own ideas when enunciated by others. There is not a single argument in the Essay but what is much moreelaborated in the works of Bolingbroke, while every positive argumentis reduced to a few poetic maxims in the Essay. We may as well look herefor Bolingbroke's creed, rather than amongst his prose works. Thereis, however, this difference, that in the Essay there is laid down anethical scheme of positivism--_i. E. _, of everything in morals whichcan be duly tested and nothing more: while in the prose writings ofBolingbroke, the negative side of theology is discussed with an amountof erudition which has never been surpassed by any of the great leadersof Freethought. The first proposition of the Essay is based on apostulate, upon which the whole reasoning is built. Overthrow thissubstratum, and the philosophy of the Essay is overturned--admit it, andits truth is evident; it is--

"What can we reason but from what we know?"

This is equivalent to saying that we can only reason concerning man asa finite part of an infinite existence, and we can only predicaterespecting what comes under the _category of positive knowledge _; weare therefore disabled from speculating in any theories which have fora basis opposition to the collected experience of mankind. This was aposition laid down by Bolingbroke to escape all the historical argumentswhich some men deduce from alleged miraculous agency in the past, orproblematical prophecy in the future. It _likewise_ shows the untenablenature of all analogy, which presumes to trace an hypothetical firstcause or personal intelligence, to account for a supposed origin ofprimeval existence, by which nature was caused, or forms of being firstevolved. Although it may be deemed inconsistent with the philosophy ofBolingbroke to admit a God in the same argument as the above, we mustnot forget that in all speculative reasoning there must be an assumptionof some kind, which ought to be demonstrated by proof, or a suitableequivalent in the form of universal consent. Yet in the case of the Godof the Essay, we look in vain for the attributes with which Theists loveto clothe their God, and we can but perceive inexorable necessity in theshape of rigid and unswerving laws, collected in one focus by Pope, anddignified with the name of God; so that the difference betwixt aDeist of the old, and an Atheist of the modern school, is one of merewords--they both commence with an assumption, the Atheist only defininghis terms more strictly, the subject-matter in both instances beingthe same. The only difference being, the one deceives himself with ameaningless word, the other is speechless on what he cannot comprehend. The Essay shows a scheme of universal gradation, composed of a series oflinks, which are one entwined within the other--every rock being placedin its necessitated position--every plant amidst its growth bearing anexoteric similitude to itself--every animal, from the lowest quadrupedto the highest race of man, occupying a range of climate adapted to itsrequirements. The Essay here is scientifically correct, and agrees withthe ablest writers on necessity. A German philosopher renowned alikefor rigid analysis and transcendent abilities as a successful theorist, observes, "When I contemplate all things as a whole, I perceive one_nature_ one _force _: when I regard them as individuals, many forceswhich develop themselves according to their inward laws, and passthrough all the forms of which they are capable, and all the objectsin nature are but those forces under certain limitations. Everymanifestation of every individual power of nature is determined partlyby itself, partly by its own preceding manifestations, and partly by themanifestations of all other powers of nature with which it is connected;but it is connected with all, for nature is one connected whole. Itsmanifestations are, therefore, strictly necessary, and it is absolutelyimpossible to be other than as it is. In every moment of her durationnature is one connected whole, in every moment must every individual bewhat it is because all others are what they are, and a single grain ofsand could not be moved from its place, without, however imperceptiblyto us, changing something throughout all parts of the immeasurablewhole. Every moment of duration is determined by all past moments, andwill determine all future movements, and even the position of a grainof sand cannot be conceived other than it is, without supposing otherchanges to an indefinite extent. Let us imagine that grain of sand to belying some few feet further inland than it actually does; then must thestorm-wind that drove it in from the sea-shore have been stronger thanit actually was; then must the preceding state of the atmosphere, by which this wind was occasioned, and its degree of strength beingdetermined, have been different from what it actually was, and thepreceding changes which gave rise to this particular weather, and soon. We must suppose a different temperature from that which reallyexisted--a different constitution of bodies which influenced thattemperature. How can we know that in such a state of weather we havebeen supposing, in order to carry this grain of sand a few yardsfurther, some ancestors of yours might not have perished from hunger, cold, or heat, long before the birth of that son from whom you aredescended, and thus you might never have been at all, and all that youhave done, and all that you ever hope to do, must have been hindered, inorder that a grain of sand might lie in a different place. " * The wholeof the first book is devoted to the necessitated condition of manin relation to the universe. In one portion there is a succession ofbeautiful similes, portraying the blissful state we are in, instead ofbeing gifted with finer sensibilities, or a prescience, which would be acurse. 

 * Fichte's "Destination of Man, " pp. 8, 9

Pope, although an ardent disciple of Bolingbroke, did not entirelyforsake the prejudices of childhood; he still indulged in a bare hope ofa future life, which his master, with more consistency, suppressed. Sothat when the poet rhymed the propositions of St. John, he pointed themwith "hope" in an eternal future; for that speculation which was still_probability_ in his day, is now nearly silenced by modern science. Butwe must not confound the ideas of futurity, which some of the Deistsexpressed, with those of Christianity. They were as different as thedreams of Christ and Plato were dissimilar. Pope "hoped" for a futurelife of intellectual enjoyment devoid of evil, but the heaven of thegospel is equally as necessary to be counterbalanced by a hell, asthe existence of a God requires the balancing support of a devil. Wetherefore can sympathise with the description of a heaven, the poorIndian looked for:--

 "Some safer world in depths of woods embraced, Some happier island in the watery waste; Where slaves once more their native land behold, Nor fiends torment, nor _Christians thirst for gold. To be_--contents his natural desires, He asks no angels' wings, no seraphs' fires, But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog should bear him company. "

Pope durst not emphatically deny the future-life theory, so he attackedit by elaborating a physical instead of a spiritual heaven. So heterodoxa notion of the Indian's future sports, is not to be found in theology, especially as he pictures the Indian's sports with his dog. Here wasa double blow aimed at Christianity by evolving a "positive" ideaof future pleasures, and the promulgation of sentimentsanti-Christian. --Again he attacks them for unwarrantable speculation intheology, when he says--

 "In pride, in reasoning pride our error lies. "

This is a corollary to the first proposition, "What can we reason butfrom what we know?" The only predicate we can draw from this is, theundoubted fact we have no right to profess to hold opinions of that, upon which we cannot have any positive proof. The last line of thefirst book has been generally thought open to attack. It relates tonecessity--"Whatever is, is right"--and is not to be viewed in relationto society as at present constituted, but to the physical universe. 

The second book deals with man in relation to himself as an individual;the third as a member of society, and the last in respect to happiness. Throughout the whole Essay the distinctions arising from nature andinstinct are defined and defended with vigor and acuteness. Both areproved to be equally great in degree, in spite of the hints constantlythrown out in reference to "God-like Reason _versus_ Blind Instinct. " Weconfess our inability to discern the vaunted superiority of the powersof reason over those of its blinder sister. We see in the one matchlesswisdom--profound decision--unfailing resource--a happy contentment asunfeigned as it is natural. On the other hand, we see temerity alliedwith cowardice--a man seeking wisdom on a watery plank, when everyfootmark may serve him for a funeral effigy; political duplicity arisingfrom his confined generalization of facts; a desire to do right, butchecked by accident and cunning--everywhere uneasy--always fatal. Ifthe Christians' fables were true, we might say that Adam and Eve wereoriginally in possession of Instinct and Reason, and fell by listeningto the promptings of volition, instead of the unswerving powers of thebrutes, and for a hereditary punishment was cursed with a superabundanceof reason. For with all our intellectual prerogatives, we have yetfailed to arrive at a definite course of action which should influenceour conduct. The Essay, speaking of Government by Christianity, says:--

 "Force first made conquest, and that conquest law, Till superstition taught the tyrant awe. 

 . .. .. 

 She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray, To power unseen, and mightier far than they: She, from the rending earth and bursting skies, Saw Gods descend and fiends infernal rise. Here _fixed_ the dreadful, there the blessed abodes, Here _made her_ devils, and weak hope her Gods. Gods partial, changeful, passionate, _unjust_, Whose _attributes were rage, revenge, or lust_. Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, And formed like tyrants; tyrants would believe. Zeal then, not charity, became the guide, And Hell was _built in spite_, and Heaven in pride. "

And again--

 "For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. "

The Essay concludes with an invocation to Bolingbroke--whom Pope styles, "my guide, philosopher, and friend. " Such is the conclusion of the mostremarkable ethical poem in any language. It is the Iliad of EnglishDeism. Not a single allusion to Christ--a future state of existencegiven only as a faint probability--the whole artificial state of societysatirized--prayer ridiculed, and government of every kind denouncedwhich does not bring happiness to the people. The first principle laiddown is the corner-stone of materialism--"What can we reason butfrom what we know?"--which is stated, explained, and defended with anaxiomatic brevity rarely equalled, never surpassed--with a numberof illustrations comprising the _chef d'oeuvre_ of poetic grace, andsynthical melody combined with arguments as cogent as the examples areperfect. 

It stands alone in its impregnability--a pile of literary architecturelike the "Novum Organan" of Bacon, the "Principia" of Newton, or theEssay of Locke. The facades of its noble colonnades are seen extendingtheir wings through the whole sweep of history, constituting a pantheonof morals, where every nation sends its devotees to admire and worship. 

Let us now turn to the philosophical works of Bolingbroke. By the willof Bolingbroke he devised this portion of his manuscripts to DavidMallet, the poet, for publication. The noble Lord's choice is open tocensure here. He knew the character of Mallet, and could expect littlejustice from him who should have been his biographer. The MSS. Were allprepared for the press long before Bolingbroke died. In this originalstate, they were addressed to Pope. When published they appeared as"Letters or Essays addressed to Alexander Pope, Esq. " The politicalfriends of St. John wished their suppression, fearing that they wouldinjure his reputation by being anti-Christian. A large bribe wasoffered by Lord Cornbur if Mallet would destroy the works. He, no doubt, thinking more money could be made by their publication, issued them tothe world in 1754, but without giving a biography or notes to the books, his work being simply correcting the errors of the press. True, thereexisted no stipulation that he should write the Life of Bolingbroke, butno one can doubt that such was the intention of the statesman, when hebequeathed to him property which realized £10, 000 in value. Every oneknows the huge witticism of Dr. Johnson, who accused Bolingbroke ofcowardice, under the simile of loading a blunderbuss, and then leaving aScotchman half-a-crown to fire it when he was out of the way. When thoseposthumous works appeared, the grand jury of Westminster presented themto the judicial authorities as subversive of religion, morality, andgovernment. They were burnt by the common hangman. 

With difficulty we give a quotation from Boling-broke's ideas of aFuture Life. In vol. IV. , p. 348, he says, "I do not say, that tobelieve in a future state is to believe in a vulgar error; but this Isay, it cannot be demonstrated by reason: it is not in the nature of itcapable of demonstration, and no one ever returned that irremediable wayto give us an assurance of the fact. "

Again, he speaks personally in reference to himself, Pope, andWollaston, whom he had been opposing:--

 "He alone is happy, and he 'is truly so, who can say, Welcome life whatever it brings! Welcome death whatever it is! If the former, --we change our state. 

 . .. .. 

That you, or I, or even Wollaston himself, should return to the earthfrom whence we came, to the dirt under our feet, or be mingled with theashes of those herbs and plants from which we drew nutrition whilst welived, does not seem any indignity offered to our nature, since it iscommon to all the animal kind: and he who complains of it as such, doesnot seem to have been set, by his reasoning faculties, so far above themin life; as to deserve not to be levelled with them at death. We werelike them before our birth, that is nothing. So we shall be on thishypothesis, like them too after our death, that is nothing. Whathardship is done us? Unless it be a hardship, that we are not immortalbecause we wish to be so, and flatter ourselves with that expectation. 

"If this hypothesis were true, which I am far from assuming, I shouldhave no reason to complain, though having tasted existence, I mightabhor non-entity. Since, then, the first cannot be demonstrated byreason, nor the second be reconciled to my inward sentiment, let me takerefuge in resignation at the last, as in every other act of my life: letothers be solicitous about their future state, and frighten or flatterthemselves as prejudice, imaginative bad health--nay, a lowering day, or a clear sunshine shall inspire them to do: let the tranquillity of mymind rest on this immovable rock, that my future, as well as my presentstate, are ordered by an Almighty Creator, and that they are equallyfoolish, and presumptuous, who make imaginary excursions into futurity, and who complain of the present. "

Lord Bolingbroke died in the year 1751, after a long and painfulillness, occasioned by the ignorance of a quack. While lying on hisdeath-bed he composed a discourse, entitled "Considerations on the Stateof the Nation. " He died in peace--in the knowledge of the truth of theprinciples he had advocated, and with that calm serenity of mind, whichno one can more fully experience than the honest Freethinker. He wasburied in the church at Battersea. He was a man of the highest rank ofgenius, far from being immaculate in his youth, brave, sincere, a truefriend, possessed of rich learning, a clear and sparkling style, a greatwit, and the most powerful Freethinker of his age. 

A. C. 

CONDORCET. 

In the history of the French Revolution, we read of a multitude ofsections, each ruled by a man, and each man representing a philosophy. Not that each man was the contriver of a system, but the effervescenceof one. As true as Robespierre was the advocate of Rousseau, as Maratwas the Wilkes of Paris, as Danton was the Paine, and Mirabeau theexpediency-politician of reflex England, so true is it that Condorcetwas the type of the philosophic Girondists, the offspring of Voltaire. 

The two great schools of metaphysics fought out the battle onthe theatre of the Constituent Assembly, in a spirit as bitterlyuncompromising as when under different phraseological terms, they met inthe arguments of the School-men, or further in the womb of history, onthe forum of Athens. It is a fact no less true than singular, that aftereach mental excitement amongst the _savons_, whether in ancient or inmodern times, after the literary shock has passed away, the people areinnoculated with the strife, and, destitute of the moderation of theirleaders, fight for that doctrine which they conceive oppresses theirrights. The French Revolution was one of those struggles. It gave riseto epoch-men. Not men who originated a doctrine, but those who attemptedto carry it out. Condorcet was one of those men. He was the successorof Voltaire in the Encyclopædic warfare. The philosopher amongst theorators. Destitute of the amazing versatility of the sage of Ferney, heimbibed the prophet's antipathy to superstition, and after a brilliantcareer, fell in the wild onslaught of passion. The Revolution was thearena on which was fought the battle involving the question whetherEurope was to be ruled for a century by Christianity or Infidelity. Theirresolution of Robespierre lost to us the victory of the first passageof arms, equally as decisive as Lafayette in 1830, and Lamartine in1848, being Liberals, lost in each case the social Republic bytheir vacillating policy. The true Freethinkers of that age were theGirondists. With their heroic death, the last barrier to despotismdisappeared; the Consulate became the only logical path for gildedchains and empire. With the ostracism of the Republicans by Napoleon theLittle, a Parallel is completed between the two eras of French history. 

The family name of Condorcet was Caritat. His father was a scion of anaristocratic family, and an officer in the army. The son who gave honorto the family, was born in the year 1743, at Ribemont, in Picardy. Hisfather dying early, left his son to be educated with his wife, under theguardianship of his brother, the Bishop of Lisieux, a celebrated Jesuit. The mother of Condorcet was extremely superstitious, and in one of herfanatic ecstasies, offered up her son at the shrine of the Virgin Mary. How this act was performed we cannot relate; but it is a notoriousfact that until his twelfth year, the embryo philosopher was clothedin female attire, and had young ladies for companions, which, M. Arago says, "accounts for many peculiarities in the _physique_ and the_morale_ of his manhood. " The abstinence from all rude, boyish sports, checked the proper muscular development of his limbs; the head and trunkwere on a large scale, but the legs were so meagre that they seemedunfit to carry what was above them; and, in fact, he never could partakein any strong exercises, or undergo the bodily fatigues to which healthymen willingly expose themselves. On the other hand, he had imbibed thetenderness of a delicate damsel, retaining to the last a deep horror foraffliction pain on the inferior animals. 

In 1775, he entered the Jesuit Academy at Rheiras. Three yearsafterwards, he was transferred to the College of Navarre, in Paris, and soon made himself the most distinguished scholar there. His friendswished him to enter the priesthood, not knowing that even in hisseventeenth year he had embraced the Deism of the age. 

At the age of nineteen he left college, and immediate-ly published aseries of mathematical works, which established his fame. Shortlyafter this, the Academy of Sciences chose Condorcet for their assistantsecretary. In the year 1770 he accompanied D'Alembert in a tour throughItaly, making a call for some weeks at Ferney, where he was delightedwith the company of Voltaire, and was duly recognised as one of theEncylopædists; and, on his return to Paris, became the literary agent ofhis great leader. 

A Quarterly Reviewer, writing on Voltaire and Condercet, says of theformer, "When he himself, in these latter days, was resolved to issueanything that he knew and felt to be pregnant with combustion, henever dreamt of Paris--he had agents enough in other quarters: and theanonymous or pseudonymous mischief was printed at London, Amsterdam, orHamburgh, from a fifth or sixth copy in the handwriting of some Dutchor English clerk--thence, by cautious steps, smuggled into France--andthen, disavowed and denounced by himself, and, for him, by hisnumberless agents, with an intrepid assurance which, down to the last, confounded and baffled all official inquisitors, until, in each separatecase, the scent had got cold. Therefore, he sympathized not at all withany of these, his subalterns, when they, in their own proper matters, allowed themselves a less guarded style of movement. "

On one occasion, Condorcet's imprudence extorts a whole series ofpassionate remonstrants from him and his probable complaints--but theburden is always the same--"Tolerate the whispers of age! How oftenshall I have to tell you all that no one but a fool will publish suchthings unless he has 200, 000 bayonets at his back? Each Encyclopædistwas apt to forget that, though he corresponded familiarly withFrederick, he was not a King of Prussia; and, by-and-by, not one of themmore frequently made this mistake than Condorcet--for that gentleman'ssaintlike tranquillity of demeanor, though it might indicate a naturallylanguid pulse, covered copious elements of vital passion. The slow wheelcould not resist the long attrition of controversy; and when it onceblazed, the flame was all the fiercer for its unseen nursing. 'Youmistake Condorcet, ' said D'Alembert, 'he is a volcano covered withsnow. '"

When Turgot became Minister of Marine, he gave Condorcet a post asInspector of Canals; from this he was subsequently promoted to theInspector of the Mint. When Turgot was replaced by Necker, Condorcetresigned his office. 

In 1782 he was elected one of the forty of the Academy of Sciences, beating the Astronomer, Bailly, by _one_ vote. In the next year, D'Alembert, his faithful friend, died, leaving him the whole of hiswealth; his uncle, the bishop, likewise died in the same year, fromwhom he would receive a fresh accession of property. Shortly after this, time, Condorcet married Madame de Grouchy--also celebrated as a lady ofgreat beauty, good fortune, and an educated Atheist. The marriage wasa happy one. The only offspring was a girl, who married General ArthurO'Connor, uncle to the late Feargus O'Connor, an Irish refugee who wasconnected with Emmett's rebellion. 

During the excitement of the American War of Independence, Condorcettook an active part in urging the French Government to bestow assistancein arms and money, upon the United States; after the war was concluded, he corresponded with Thomas Paine, who gradually converted him to theextreme Republican views the "illustrious needleman" himself possessed, which, in this case, rapidly led to the _denouement_ of 1791, when hewas elected a member of the Legislative Assembly by the department ofParis. In the next year he was raised to the rank of President by amajority of near one hundred votes. While in the Assembly, he broughtforward and supported the economical doctrines of Adam Smith, proposedthe abolition of indirect taxation, and levying a national revenue uponderivable wealth in amount according to the individual, passing over allwho gained a livelihood by manual labor. He made a motion for the publicburning of all documents relating to nobility--himself being a Marquis. He took a conspicuous place in the trial of the king; he voted himguilty, but refused to vote for his death, as the punishment of deathwas against his principles. The speech he made on this occasion is fullyequal to that of Paine's on the same occasion. 

When the divergence took place between the Jacobins and Girondists, Condorcet strove to unite them; but every day brought fresh troubles, and the position of the Seneca of the Revolution was too prominent toescape the opposition of the more violent taction. 

Robespierre triumphed; and in his success could be traced the doomof his enemies. An intercepted letter was the means of Condorcet'simpeachment. Deprived of the support of Isnard, Brissot, and Vergniaud, the Jacobins proscribed without difficulty the hero whose writings hadmainly assisted in producing the Revolution. His friends provided meansfor his escape. They applied to a lodging-house keeper, a MadameVernet, if she would conceal him for a time; she asked was he a virtuousman--yes, replied his friend, he is the---- stay, you say he is a goodman, I do not wish to pry into his secrets or his name. Once safe inthis asylum, he was unvisited by either wife or friends; morover, suchwas the hurry of his flight, that he was without money, and nearlywithout books. 

While in this forced confinement, he wrote the "_Esquisse d'unTableau Historique des Progrès de l'Esprit Humain_, " and several otherfragmentary essays. In this work he lays down a scheme of societysimilar to the "New Moral World, " of Robert Owen. Opposing the idea ofa God, he shows the dominion of science in education, political economy, chemistry, and applies mathematical principles to a series of moralproblems. Along with the progress of man he combined the progress ofarts--estimating the sanatory arrangements of our time, he prophecied onthe gradual extension of longevity, amongst the human race; and with it, enjoyments increased by better discipline in gustatorial duties. Hehas similar views on the softer sex to M. Proudhomme (his immediatedisciple, ) and, in the close of the work, Condorcet announced thepossibility of an universal language, which is daily becoming moreassimilated to modern ideas. 

The guillotine had not been idle during the few weeks of Condorcet'sretreat. Fancying that (if discovered) he might be the means of injuringhis benefactress, he resolved to escape from the house of Madame Vernet. Previous to doing this, he made his will. M. Arago, describing thisepoch in his closing days, says:--

"When he at last paused, and the feverish excitement of authorship wasat an end, our colleague rested all his thoughts anew on the dangerincurred by his hostess. He resolved then (I employ his own words) toquit the retreat which the boundless devotion of his tutelar angel hadtransformed into a paradise. He so little deceived himself as to theprobable consequences of the step he meditated--the chances of safetyafter his evasion appeared so feeble--that before he put his plan intoexecution he made his last dispositions. In the pages then written, Ibehold everywhere the lively reflection of an elevated mind, a feelingheart, and a beautiful soul. I will venture to say, that there existsin no language anything better thought, more tender, more touching, more sweetly expressed, than the '_Avis d'un Proscrit a sa Fill_. ' Thoselines, so limpid, so full of unaffected delicacy, were written on thatvery day when he was about to encounter voluntarily an immense danger. The presentiment of a violent end almost inevitably did not disturbhim--his hand traced those terrible words, _Ma mort, ma mort prochaîne!_with a firmness which the Stoics of antiquity might have envied. Sensibility, on the contrary, obtained the mastery when the illustriousproscribed was drawn into the anticipation that Madame de Condorcet alsomight be involved in the bloody catastrophe that threatened him. _Shouldmy daughter be destined to lose all_--this is the most explicit allusionthat the husband can insert in his last writing. "

"The Testament is short. It was written on the fly-leaf of a 'History ofSpain. ' In it Condorcet directs that his daughter, in case of his wife'sdeath, shall be brought up by Madame Vernet, whom she is to call hersecond mother, and who is to see her so educated as to have means ofindependent support either from painting or engraving. 'Should it benecessary for my child to quit France, she may count on protection inEngland from my Lord Stanhope and my Lord Daer. In America, reliancemay be placed on Jefferson and Bache, the grandson of Franklin. She is, therefore, to make the English language her first study. '"

Such was the last epistle ever written by Condorcet. Notwithstandingthe precautions taken by his friends, he escaped into the streets--fromthence having appealed in vain to friends for assistance, he visitedsome quarries. Here he remained from the 5th to the evening of the 7thof April, 1794. Hunger drove him to the village of Clamait, when heapplied at an hostelry for refreshment. He described himself as acarpenter out of employment, and ordered an omelet. This was an ageof suspicion, and the landlord of the house soon discovered that thewanderer's hands were white and undisfigured with labor, while hisconversation bore no resemblance to that of a common artificer. Thegood dame of the house inquired how many eggs he would have in his dish. Twelve, was the answer. Twelve eggs for a joiner's supper! This washeresy against the equality of man. They demanded his passport--he hadnot got one--the only appearance of anything of the sort was a scrap ofpaper, scrawled over with Latin epigrams. This was conclusive evidenceto the village Dogberries that he was a traitor and an aristocrat. Theauthorities signed the warrant for his removal to Paris. Ironed to twoofficers they started on the march. The first evening they arrived atBourg-la-Reine, where they deposited their prisoner in the gaol ofthat town. In the morning the gaoler found him a corpse. He had taken apoison of great force, which he habitually carried in a ring. Thusended the life of the great Encyclopædist--a man great by his manyvirtues--who reflected honor on France by his science, his literarytriumphs, and his moral heroism. He had not the towering energyof Marat, nor the gushing eloquence of Danton, neither had he thesuperstitious devotion to abstract ideas which characterized the wholecourse of Robespierre's life. The oratory of Danton, like that of Marat, only excited the people to dissatisfaction; they struck down effeteinstitutions, but they were not the men to inaugurate a new society. Itis seldom we find the pioneers of civilization the best mechanics. Theystrike down the forest--they turn the undergrowth--they throw a log overthe stream, but they seldom rear factories, or invent tubular bridges. 

Amongst the whole of the heroes of the French Revolution, we must admirethe Girondists, as being the most daring, and, at the same time, themost constructive of all who met either in the Constituent Assembly orthe Convention. The Jacobin faction dealt simply with politics throughthe abstract notions of Rousseau: but of what use are "human rights" ifwe have to begin _de novo_ to put into operation?--rather let us unitethe conservative educationalism of Socialism with the wild democracy ofignorance. Politics never can be successful unless married to Socialism. 

It was not long after Condorcet's death, before the Committee of PublicInstruction undertook the charge of publishing the whole of his works. For this they have been censured on many grounds. We consider that itwas one of the few good things accomplished by that Committee. There isnothing in the works of this writer which have a distinctive peculiarityto us; few great writers who direct opinion at the time they write, appear to posterity in the same light as they did to a public inflamedby passion, and trembling under reiterated wrongs. When we look at theworks of D'Holbach, we find a standard treatise, which is a land-mark tothe present day; but at the time the "System of Nature" was written, ithad not one tithe the popularity which it now enjoys; it did not producean effect superior to a new sarcasm of Voltaire, or an epigram ofDiderot. Condorcet was rather the co-laborer and _literateur_ of theparty, than the prophet of the new school. Voltaire was the Christ, and Condorcet the St. Paul of the new faith. In political economy, thedoctrines of the English and Scotch schools were elaborated to theirfullest extent. Retrenchment in pensions and salaries, diminution ofarmies, equal taxation, the resumption by the State of all the Churchlands, the development of the agricultural and mechanical resources, the abolition of the monopolies, total free trade, local government, andnational education; such-were the doctrines for which Turgot fought, andCondorcet popularized. If they had been taken in time, France wouldhave escaped a revolution, and Europe would have been ruled by peaceand freedom. It may be asked, who brought about the advocacy of thosedoctrines, for they were not known before the middle of the eighteenthcentury? They were introduced as a novelty, and defended as a paradox. France had been exhausted by wars, annoyed by _ennui_, brilliant aboveall by her genius, she was struck with lassitude for her licentiouscrimes. There was an occasion for a new school. Without it, France, likeCarthage, would have bled to death on the hecatomb of her own lust. Herleading men cast their eyes to England; it was then the most progressivenation in existence. The leading men of that country were intimate withthe rulers of the French; the books of each land were read with avidityby their neighbors; a difference was observable between the two: but howthat difference was to be reconciled was past the skill of the wisest tounravel. England had liberal institutions, and a people with part of thesubstance, and many of the forms of Liberalism, along with a degree ofeducation which kept them in comparative ignorance, yet did not offerany obstacles to raising themselves in the social sphere. Before Francecould compete with England, she had to rid herself of the feudal system, and obtain a Magna Charta. She was above four centuries behind-handhere. She had to win her spurs through revolutions, like those ofCromwell's and that of 1688, and the still greater ones of Parliament. The Freethinkers of England prepared the Whig revolution of William, byadvocating the only scheme which was at the time practicable, for of thetwo--the Protestant and the Catholic religion--the former is far moreconducive to the liberties of a people than the latter, and at the time, and we may also say, nearer the present, the people were not preparedfor any organic change. This being the case, it is not to be wonderedat that the French Revolution was a failure as a constructive effort;it was a success as a grand outbreak of power; showing politicians where(in the future) to rely for success. The men who undertook to bringabout this Revolution are not to be censured for its non-success. Theywished to copy English institutions, and adapt them to those of theFrench; for this purpose, the Continental League was formed, each memberof which pledged himself to uproot, as far as lay in his power, the Catholic Church in France. A secret name was given toit--_L'Infame_--and an organized attack was speedily commenced. Themen at the head of the movement, besides Voltaire and Frederick, wereD'Alembert, Diderot, Grim, St. Lambert, Condillac, Helvetius, Jordan, Lalande, Montesquieu, and a host of others of less note. Con-dorcet, being secretary of the Academy, corresponded with, and directed themovements of all, in the absence of his chief. Every new book wascriticised--refutations were published to the leading theological worksof the age; but by far the roost effective progress was made by themeans of poems, essays, romances, epigrams, and scientific papers. Thesongs of France at this era were written by the philosophers; and thisspirit was diffused among the people. In a country so volatile andexcitable as the French, it is difficult to estimate too highly thepower of a ballad warfare. The morality of Abbots and Nuns were sung instrains as rhapsodical, and couplets as voluptuous as the vagaries ofthe Songs of Solomon. 

Much discretion was required, that no separate species of warfare shouldbe overdone, lest a nausea of sentiment should revert upon the authors, and thus lead to a reaction more sanguinary than the force of thephilosophers could control. In all those cases Condorcet was the primemover and the agent concerned. He communicated with Voltaire on everynew theory, and advised him when and how to strike, and when to _rest_. In all those matters Condorcet was obeyed. There was a smaller sectionof the more serious philosophers who sympathized with, yet did notlabor simultaneously for the common cause--those men, the extremeAtheists--clever but cautious--men who risked nothing--Mirabeau andD'Holbach were the types of this class. It is well known that bothFrederick, Voltaire, and Condorcet opposed those sections, as likely tobe aiming at too much for the time. 

When it was considered prudent to take a more decided step, theEncyclopædia was formed. Condorcet had a principal part in thiswork, which shook priestcraft on its throne; it spread consternationwhere-ever it appeared, and was one of the main causes of the greatoutbreak. No one can sufficiently praise a work of such magnitude; norcan any one predicate when its effects will cease. 

In the "Life of Condorcet, " by Arago, there is a curious extract copiedfrom a collection of anecdotes, said to be compiled from his note-books, and dignified with the title of "Mémoires de Condorcet. " It relates toa conversation between the Abbe Galiana and Diderot, in which it is saidCondorcet acquiesced. The subject is the fair sex:--

Diderot. --How do you define woman?

Galiana. --An animal naturally feeble and sick. 

Diderot. --Feeble? Has she not as much courage as man?

Galiana. --Do you know what courage is? It is the effect of terror. Youlet your leg be cut off, because you are afraid of dying. Wise peopleare never courageous--they are prudent--that is to say, poltroons. 

Diderot. --Why call you woman naturally sick!

Galiana. --Like all animals, she is sick until she attains her perfectgrowth. Then she has a peculiar symptom which takes up the fifth partof her time. Then come breeding and nursing, two long and troublesomecomplaints. In short, they have only intervals of health, untilthey turn a certain corner, and then _elles ne sont plus de maladespeut-être--elles ne sont que des reilles_. 

Diderot. --Observe her at a ball, no vigor, then, M. L'Abbe?

Galiana. --Stop the fiddles! put out the lights! she will scarcely crawlto her coach. 

Diderot. --See her in love. 

Galiana. --It is painful to see anybody in a fever. 

Diderot. --M. L'Abbe, have you no faith in education?

Galiana. --Not so much as in instinct. A woman is habitually ill. She isaffectionate, engaging, irritable, capricious, easily offended, easilyappeased, a trifle amuses her. The imagination is always in play. Fear, hope, joy, despair, and disgust, follow each other more rapidly, aremanifested more strongly, effaced more quickly, than with us. They likea plentiful repose, at intervals company; anything for excitement. Askthe doctor if it is not the same with his patients. But ask yourself, do we not all treat them as we do sick people, lavish attention, soothe, flatter, caress, and get tired of them?

Condorcet, in a letter, remarking on the above conversation, says:--"Ido not insist upon it as probable that woman will ever be Euleror Voltaire; but I am satisfied that she may one day be Pascal orRousseau. " This very qualification, we consider, is sufficient toabsolve Condorcet from, the charge of being a "woman hater. " Hisopponents, when driven from every other source, have fallen back onthis, and alleged that he viewed the sexes as unequal, and that thestronger had a right to lord it over the weaker. But which is theweaker? Euler and Voltaire were masculine men. A woman to be masculine, in the true sense of the word, is an anomaly, to be witnessed with pain. She is not in a normal condition. She is a monster. Women should live insociety fully educated and developed in their physical frame, and thenthey would be more feminine in proportion as they approach the characterof Mary Wollstonecraft. They have no right to domineer as tyrants, andthen fall into the most abject of slaves. In each of the characters ofPascal and Rousseau, was an excess of sensibility, which overbalancedtheir other qualities, and rendered their otherwise great talentswayward, and, to a certain extent, fruitless. The peculiarity of manis physical power, and intellectual force; that of woman is an acutesensibility. Condorcet, then, was justified in expressing the opinionshe avowed upon the subject. 

In a paper, in the year 1766, read before the "Academy, " on "OughtPopular Errors to be Eradicated!" Condorcet says, "If the peopleare often tempted to commit crimes in order that they may obtain thenecessaries of life, it is the fault of the laws; and, as bad laws arethe product of errors, it would be more simple to abolish those errorsthan to add others for the correction of their natural effects. Error, no doubt, may do some good; it may prevent some crimes, but it willoccasion mischiefs greater than these. By putting nonsense into theheads of the people, you make them stupid; and from stupidity toferocity there is but a step. Consider--if the motives you suggestfor being just make but a slight impression on the mind, that will notdirect the conduct--if the impressions be lively, they will produceenthusiasm, and enthusiasm for error. Now, the ignorant enthusiast isno longer a man; he is the most terrible of wild beasts. In fact, thenumber of criminals among the men with prejudices (Christians) is ingreater proportion to the total number of our population, than thenumber of criminals in the class above prejudices (Freethinkers) is tothe total of that class. I am not ignorant that, in the actual state ofEurope, the people are not, perhaps, at all prepared for a truedoctrine of morals; but this degraded obtuseness is the work of socialinstitutions and of superstitions. Men are not born blockheads; theybecome such. By speaking reason to the people, even in the little timethey give to the cultivation of their intellect, we might easily teachthem the little that it is necessary for them to know. Even the idea ofthe respect that they should have for the property of the rich, isonly difficult to be insinuated among them--first, because they lookon riches as a sort of usurpation, of theft perpetrated upon them, andunhappily this opinion is in great part true--secondly, because theirexcessive poverty makes them always consider themselves in the case ofabsolute necessity--a case in which even very severe moralists have beenof their mind--thirdly, because they are as much despised and maltreatedfor being poor, as they would be after they had lowered themselves bylarcenies. It is merely, therefore, because institutions are bad, thatthe people are so commonly a little thievish upon principle. "

We should have much liked to have given some extended quotations fromthe works of Condorcet; but, owing to their general character, we cannotextract any philosophic formula which would be generally interesting. His "Lettres d'un Théologien" are well deserving of a reprint; theycreated an astounding sensation when they appeared, being taken for thework of Voltaire--the light, easy, graceful style, with deeply concealedirony, the crushing retort and the fiery sarcasm. They made even priestslaugh by their Attic wit and incongruous similes. But it was in the"Academy" where Condorcet's influence was supreme. He immortalized theheroes as they fell, and pushed the cause on by his professional duties. He was always awake to the call of duty, and nobly did he work hisbattery. He is now in the last grand sleep of man--the flowers of poesyare woven in amarynth wreaths over his tomb. 

A. C. 

SPINOZA. 

Baruch Spinoza, or Espinoza, better known under the name of BenedictSpinoza (as rendered by himself in the Latin language, ) was born atAmsterdam, in Holland, on the 24th of November, 1632. There is someuncertainty as to this date, as there are several dates fixed bydifferent authors, both for his birth and death, but we have adopted thebiography given by Dr. C. H. Bruder, in the preface to his editionof Spinoza's works. His parents were Jews of the middle, or, perhaps, somewhat humbler class. His father was originally a Spanish merchant, who, to escape persecution, had emigrated to Holland. Although thelife of our great philosopher is one full of interesting incidents, and deserves to be treated fully, we have but room to give a very briefsketch, referring our readers, who may wish to learn more of Spinoza'slife, to Lewes's "Biographical History of Philosophy, " _WestminsterReview_, No. 77, and "Encyclopædia Brittannica. " p. 144. His doctrineswe will let speak for themselves in his own words, trusting thereby togive the reader an opportunity of knowing who and what Spinoza reallywas. One man shrinks with horror from him as an Atheist. Voltairesays, that he was an Atheist, and taught Atheism. Another calls him "aGod-intoxicated man. " We present him a mighty thinker, a master mind, a noble, fearless utterer of free and noble thoughts, a hard-working, honest, independent man; as one who, two centuries ago, gave forth tothe world a series of thinkings which have crushed, with resistlessforce, the theological shell in the centre of which the priests hidethe kernel "truth. "

Spinoza appears in his boyhood to have been an apt scholar, and to haverapidly mastered the tasks set him by his teachers. Full of rabbinicallore he won the admiration of the Rabbi Moses Mortira, but the pupilrose higher than his master, and attempted to solve problems which thelearned rabbis were content to reverence as mysteries not capableof solution. First they remonstrated, then threatened; still Spinozapersevered in his studies, and in making known the result to thosearound him. He was threatened with excommunication, and withdrew himselffrom the synagogue. One more effort was made by the rabbis, who offeredSpinoza a pension of about £100 a-year if he would attend thesynagogue more frequently, and consent to be silent with regard tohis philosophical thinkings. This offer he indignantly refused. Reasonfailing, threats proving futile, and gold being treated with scorn, one was found sufficiently fanatic to try a further experiment, whichresulted in an attempt on Spinoza's life; the knife, however, luckilymissed its aim, and our hero escaped. At last, in the year 1660, Spinoza, being then twenty-eight years of age, was solemnlyexcommunicated from the synagogue. His friends and relations shut theirdoors against him. An outcast from the home of his youth, he gaineda humble livelihood by polishing glasses for microscopes, telescopes, etc. , at which he was very expert. While thus acquiring, by his ownhandiwork, the means of subsistence, he was studying hard, devotingevery possible hour to philosophical research. Spinoza became master ofthe Dutch, Hebrew, German, Spanish, Portuguese, and Latin languages, thelatter of which he acquired in the house of one Francis Van den Ende, from whom it is more than probable he received as much instruction inAtheism as in Latin. Spinoza only appears to have once fallen in love, and this was with Van den Ende's daughter, who was herself a goodlinguist, and who gave Spinoza instruction in Latin. She, however, although willing to be his instructress and companion in a philogicalpath, declined to accept his love, and thus Spinoza was left tophilosophy alone. After his excommunication he retired to Rhynsburg, near the City of Leyden, in Holland, and there studied the works ofDescartes. Three years afterwards he published an abridgment of the"Meditations" of the great father of philosophy, which created aprofound sensation. In an appendix to this abridgment were contained thegerms of those thinkings in which the pupil outdid the master, and thestudent progressed beyond the philosopher. In the month of June, 1664, Spinoza removed to Woorburg, a small village near the Hague, where hewas visited by persons from different parts, attracted by his fame as aphilosopher; and at last, after many solicitations he came to theHague, and resided there altogether. In 1670 he published his "TractatusTheologico-Politicus. " This raised him a host of opponents; many writersrushed eager for the fray, to tilt with the poor Dutch Jew. His book wasofficially condemned and forbidden, and a host of refutations (?) werecirculated against it. In spite of the condemnation it has outlived therefutations. 

Spinoza died on the 21st or 22nd of February, 1677, in his forty-fifthyear, and was buried on the 25th of February at the Hague. He was frugalin his habits, subsisting independently on the earnings of his ownhands. Honorable in all things, he refused to accept the chair ofProfessor of Philosophy, offered to him by the Elector, and this becausehe did not wish to be circumscribed in his thinking, or in the freedomof utterance of his thoughts. He also refused a pension offered to himby Louis XIV, saying that he had no intention of dedicatinganything to that monarch. The following is a list of Spinoza'sworks:--"Principiorum Philosophise Renati Descartes;" "TractatusTheologico-Politicus;" "Ethica;" "Tractatus Politi-cus;" "De EmandationeIntellectus;" "Epistolæ;" "Grammaticus Hebracæ, " etc. There are alsoseveral spurious works ascribed to Spinoza. The "Tractatus Politicus"has been translated into English by William Maccall, who seems fully toappreciate the greatness of the philosopher, although he will not admitthe usefulness of Spinoza's logic. Maccall does not see the utility ofthat very logic which compelled him to admit Spinoza's truth. We are notaware of any other translation of Spinoza's works except that of asmall portion of his "Ethica, " by Lewes. This work, which was originallypublished in 1677, commenced with eight definitions, which, togetherwith the following axioms and propositions, were reprinted from the_Westminster Review_ in the _Library of Reason_:--

DEFINITIONS. 

I. By cause of itself I understand that, the essence of which involvesexistence: or that, the nature of which can only be considered asexistent. 

II. A thing finite is that which can be limited (terminari potest)by another thing of the same nature--_ergo_, body is said to be finitebecause it can always be conceived as larger. So thought is limited byother thoughts. But body does not limit thought, nor thought limit body. 

III. By substance I understand that which is in itself, and is conceived_per se_--that is, the conception of which does not require theconception of anything else as antecedent to it. 

IV. By attribute I understand that which the mind perceives asconstituting the very essence of substance. 

V. By modes I understand the accidents (affectiones) of substance; orthat which is in something else, through which also it is conceived. 

VI. By God I understand the being absolutely infinite; that is, thesubstance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses aninfinite and eternal essence. 

_Explication_, I say absolutely infinite, but not in _suo genere_; forto whatever is infinite, but not in _suo genere_, we can deny infiniteattributes; but that which is absolutely infinite, to its essencepertains everything which implies essence, and involves no negation. 

VII. That thing is said to be free which exists by the sole necessityof its nature, and by itself alone is determined to action. But that isnecessary, or rather constrained, which owes its existence to another, and acts according to certain and determinate causes. 

VIII. By eternity I understand existence itself, in as far as it isconceived necessarily to follow from the sole definition of an eternalthing. 

AXIOMS. 

I. Everything which is, is in itself, or in some other thing. 

II. That which cannot be conceived through another, _per aliud_ must beconceived, _per se_. 

III. From a given determinate cause the effect necessarily follows, and_vice versa_. If no determinate cause be given, no effect can follow. 

IV. The knowledge of an effect depends on the knowledge of the cause, and includes it. 

V. Things that have nothing in common with each other cannot beunderstood by means of each other--that is, the conception of one, doesnot involve the conception of the other. 

VI. A true idea must agree with its original in nature. 

VII. Whatever can be clearly conceived as non-existent does not, in itsessence, involve existence. 

PROPOSITIONS. 

I. Substance is prior in nature to its accidents. Demonstration. Perdefinitions three and five. 

II. Two substances, having different attributes, have nothing in commonwith each other. Dem. This follows from def. Three; for each substancemust be conceived in itself and through itself; in other words, theconception of one does not involve the conception of the other. 

III. Of things which have nothing in common, one cannot be the cause ofthe other. Dem. If they have nothing in common, then (per axiom five)they cannot be conceived by means of each other; _ergo_ (per axiomfour, ) one cannot be the cause of the other. --Q. E. D. 

IV. Two or more distinct things are distinguished among themselves, either through the diversity of their attributes, or through that oftheir modes. Dem. Everything which is, in itself, or in some other thing(per ax. One)--that is (per def. Three and five, ) there is nothing outof ourselves (_extra intellectum_, outside the intellect) but substanceand its modes. There is nothing out of ourselves whereby things can bedistinguished amongst one another, except substances, or (which is thesame thing, per def. Lour) their attributes and modes. 

V. It is impossible that there should be two or more substances of thesame nature, or of the same attributes. Dem. If there are many differentsubstances they must be distinguished by the diversity of theirattributes or of their modes (per prop. 4. ) If only by the diversityof their attributes, it is thereby conceded that there is, nevertheless, only one substance of the same attribute; but if their diversity ofmodes, then, substance being prior in order of time to its modes, itmust be considered independent of them--that is (per def. Three andsix, ) cannot be conceived as distinguished from another--that is(per prop, four, ) there cannot be many substances, but only onesubstance. --Q. E. D. 

VI. One substance cannot be created by another substance. Dem. Therecannot be two substances with the same attributes (per prop, five)--thatis (per prop. Two, ) that hare anything in common with each other; and, therefore (per prop, three, ) one cannot be the cause of the other. 

Corollary 1. Hence it follows that substance cannot be created byanything else. For there is nothing in nature except substance and itsmodes (per axiom one, and def. Three and five. ) Now, this substance, notbeing produced by another, is self-caused. 

Corollary 2. This proposition is more easily to be demonstrated by theabsurdity of its contradiction; for if substance can be produced byanything else, the conception of it would depend on the conception ofthe cause (per axiom four, ) and hence (per def. Three, ) it would not besubstance. 

VII. It pertains to the nature of substance to exist. Dem. Substancecannot be produced by anything else (per coroli. Prop, six, ) and istherefore the cause of itself--that is (per def. One, ) its essencenecessarily involves existence; or it pertains to the nature ofsubstance to exist. --Q. E. D. 

VIII. All substance is necessarily infinite. Dem. There exists but onesubstance of the same attribute; and it must either exist as infinite orfinite. But not finite, for (per def. Two) as finite it must be limitedby another substance of the same nature, and in that case there would betwo substances of the same attributes, which (per prop, five) is absurd. Substance therefore is infinite. --Q. E. D. 

"Scholium I. --I do not doubt but that to all who judge confusedlyof things, and are not wont to inquire into first causes, it will bedifficult to admit the demonstration of prop. 7, because they do notsufficiently distinguish between the modifications of substances, andsubstances themselves, and are ignorant of the manner in which thingsare produced. Hence it follows, that the commencement which they seenatural things have, they attribute to substances; for he who knows notthe true cause of things, confounds all things, and feigns that treestalk like men; that men are formed from stones as well as from seeds, and that all forms can be changed into all other forms. So, also, thosewho confound the divine nature with the human, naturally attributehuman affections to God, especially as they are ignorant of how theseaffections are produced in the mind. If men attended to the nature ofsubstance, they would not, in the least, doubt proposition seven; nay, this proposition would be an axiom to all, and would be numbered amongcommon notions. For by substance they would understand that which existsin itself, and is concerned through itself--_i. E. _, the knowledge ofwhich does not require the knowledge of anything as antecedent to it. But by modification they would understand that which is in anotherthing, the conception of which is formed by the conception of the thingin which it is, or to which it belongs. We can have, therefore, correctideas of non-existent modifications, because, although out of theunderstanding they have no reality, yet their essence is so comprehendedin that of another, that they can be conceived through this other. The truth of substance (out of the understanding) lies nowhere but initself, because it is conceived _per se_. If therefore any one sayshe has a clear idea of substance, and yet doubt whether such substanceexist, this would be as much as to say that he has a true idea, andnevertheless doubts whether it be not false (as a little attentionsufficiently manifests;) or if any man affirms substance to be created, he at the same time affirms that a true idea has become false, thanwhich nothing can be more absurd. Hence it is necessarily confessed thatthe existence of substance, as well as its essence, is an eternal truth. And hence we must conclude that there is only one substance possessingthe same attribute, which requires here a fuller development. I notetherefore--1. That the correct definition of a thing includes andexpresses nothing but the nature of the thing defined. From whichfollows--2. That no definition includes or expresses a distinct numberof individuals, because it expresses nothing but the nature of the thingdefined; _ergo_, the definition of a triangle expresses no more than thenature of a triangle, and not any fixed number of triangles. 3. Theremust necessarily be a distinct cause for the existence of every existingthing. 4. This cause, by reason of which anything exists, must either becontained in the nature and definition of the existing thing (viz. , thatit pertains to its nature to exist, ) or else must be beyond it--must besomething different from it. 

"As therefore it pertains to the nature of substance to exist, so mustits definition include a necessary existence, and consequently fromits sole definition we must conclude its existence. But as from itsdefinition, as already shown in notes two and three, it is not possibleto conclude the existence of many substances--_ergo_, it necessarilyfollows that only one substance of the same nature can exist. "

It will be necessary for the reader to remember that Spinoza commencedhis philosophical studies at the same point with Descartes. Bothrecognized existence as the primal fact, self-evident and indisputable. 

But while Descartes had, in some manner, fashioned a quality--God andGod-created substance--Spinoza only found one, substance, the definitionof which included existence. By his fourth proposition ("of things whichhave nothing in common, one cannot be the cause of the other, ") hedestroyed the creation theory, because by that theory God is assumed tobe a spirit having nothing in common with matter, yet acting onmatter; and Lewes speaks of the fourth proposition in the followingterms:--"This fallacy has been one of the most influential corruptersof philosophical speculation. For many years it was undisputed, and mostmetaphysicians still adhere to it. The assertion is that only like canact upon like; but although it is true that _like_ produces (causes)_like_, it is also true that like produces _unlike_; thus fire producespain when applied to our bodies; _explosion_ when applied to gunpowder;_charcoal_ when applied to wood; all these effects are unlike thecause. " We cannot help thinking that in this instance, the usuallythoughtful Lewes has either confused substance with its modes, or, forthe sake of producing a temporary effect, has descended to mere sophism. Spinoza's proposition is, that _substances_ having nothing in common, cannot act on one another. Lewes deals with several modes of the samesubstance as though they were different substances. Way, more, tomake his argument the more plausible, he entirely ignores in it that_noumenon_ of which he speaks as underlying all phenomena, and uses eachphenomenon as a separate existence. In each of the instances mentioned, however varied may be the modification, the essence is the same. Theyare merely examples of one portion of the whole acting upon anotherportion, and there is that in each mode which is common to the whole, and by means of which the action takes place. 

Much has been said of Spinoza's "God" and "Divine Substance, " and wemust refer the reader to Definition Six, in which God is defined asbeing "infinite substance. " Now, although we should be content to strikethe word "God" out of our own tablet of philosophical nomenclature, asbeing a much misused, misrepresented, and entirely useless word, yet wemust be very careful, when we find another man using the word, to gethis precise definition, and not to use any-other ourselves while in hiscompany. 

Spinoza, when asked "What name do you attach to infinite substance?"says, "God. "--If he had said any other word we could not have quarrelledwith him so long as he defined the word, and adhered strictly to theterms of his definition, although we might regret that he had not eithercoined a word for himself, or used one less maltreated by the mass. Spinoza said, "I can only take cognizance of one substance (of whichI am part) having infinite attributes of extension and thought. Itake cognizance of substance by its modes, and in my consciousness ofexistence. Every thing is a mode of the attribute of extension, everythought, wish, or feeling, a mode of the attribute of thought. I callthis, substance, with infinite attributes, God. " Spinoza, like all otherthinkers, found himself overpowered by the illimitable vastness of theinfinite when attempting to grasp it by his mental powers, but unlikeother men he did not endeavor to relieve himself by separating himselffrom that infinite; but, knowing he was a part of the whole, notdivisible from the remainder, he was content to aim at perfecting hisknowledge of existence rather than at dogmatising upon an indefinableword, which, if it represented anything, professed to represent anincomprehensible existence far beyond his reach. 

We ought not to wonder that in many parts of Spinoza's writings we findthe word "God" treated in a less coherent manner than would bepossible under the definition given in his "Ethics, " and for thesereasons:--Spinoza, from his cradle upwards, had been surrounded withbooks and traditions sanctified by the past, and impressed on hiswilling mind by his family, his tutors, and the heads of his church; amind like his gathered all that was given, even more quickly than it wasoffered, still craving for more--"more light"--"more light"--and at lastlight came bursting on the young thinker like a lightning flash at darkmidnight, revealing his mind in chains, which had been cast round him inhis nursery, his school, his college, his synagogue. By a mightyeffort he burst these chains, and walked forth a free man, despite theentreaties of his family, the reasonings of the rabbis, the knife of thefanatic, the curse of his church, and the edict of the state. But shouldit be a matter of surprise to us that some of the links of those brokenchains should still hang on the young philosopher, and, seeming to be apart of himself, almost imperceptibly incline to old ways of thinking, and to old modes of utterance of those thoughts! Wonder not that a fewlinks bang about him, but rather that he ever succeeded in breakingthose chains at all. Spinoza, after his secession from his synagogue, became logically an Atheist; education and early impressions enlargedthis into a less clearly-defined Pantheism; but the logic comes tous naked, disrobed of all by which it might have been surrounded inSpinoza's mind. If that logic be correct, then all the theologies ofthe world are false. We have presented it to the reader to judge offor himself. Many men have written against it; of these some havemisunderstood, some have misrepresented, some have failed, and few haveleft us a proof that they had endeavored to deal with Spinoza on his ownground. Maccall says, "In the glorious throng of heroic names, thereare few nobler than Spinoza's. Apart altogether from the estimate we mayform of his philosophy, there is something unspeakably interesting inthe life and the character of the man. In his metaphysical system thereare two things exceedingly distinct. There is, first, the immenseand prodigious, but terrible mathematical skeleton, which his subtleintellect binds up and throws as calmly into space as we drop a pebbleinto the water, and whose bones, striking against the wreck of all thatis sacred in belief, or bold in speculation, rattle a wild response toour wildest phantasies, and drive us almost to think in despair thatthinking is madness; and there is, secondly, the divinest vision of theinfinite, and the divinest incense which the intuition of the infiniteever yet poured forth at the altar of creation. "

The "Treatise on Politics" is not Spinoza's greatest work; it is, inall respects, inferior to the "Ethics, " and to the "Theologico-PoliticalTreatise. " But there are in politics certain eternal principles, and itis for setting forth and elucidating these that the Treatise of Spinozais so valuable. 

In the second chapter of that Treatise, after defining what he means bynature, etc. , he, on the sixth section, proceeds as follows:--"But manybelieve that the ignorant disturb more than follow the order of nature, and conceive of men in nature as a state within the state. For theyassert that the human mind has not been produced by any natural causes, but created immediately by God, and thereby rendered so independent ofother things as to have absolute power of determining itself, and ofusing reason aright. But experience teaches us more than enough, that itis no more in our power to have a sound mind than a sound body. Since, moreover, everything, as far as it is able, strives to conserve itsbeing, we cannot doubt that if it were equally in our power to liveaccording to the prescripts of reason, as to be led by blind desire, all would seek the guidance of reason and live wisely, which is not thecase. For every one is the slave of the particular pleasure to whichhe is most attached. Nor do theologians remove the difficulty when theyassert that this inability is a vice, or a sin of human nature, whichderives its origin from the fall of the first parent. For if it was inthe power of the first man to stand rather than to fall, and if he wassound in faculty, and had perfect control over his own mind, how did ithappen that he, the wise and prudent, fell? But they say he was deceivedand tempted by the devil. But who was it that led astray and temptedthe devil himself? Who, I ask, rendered this the most excellent ofintelligent creatures so mad, that he wished to be greater than God?Could he render himself thus mad--he who had a sane mind, and strove asmuch as in him lay to conserve his being? How, moreover, could it happenthat the first man in possession of his entire mental faculties, andmaster of his will, should be both open to temptation, and sufferhimself to be robbed of his mind? For if he had the power of using hisreason aright, he could not be deceived; for as far as in him lay, henecessarily sought to conserve his own being, and the sanity ofhis mind. But it is supposed he had this in his power, therefore henecessarily conserved his sane mind, neither could he be deceived. Which is evidently false from his history; and, consequently, it must begranted that it was not in the power of the first person to use reasonaright, but that he, like us, was subject to passions. "

Spinoza is scarcely likely to become a great favorite with the "Woman'sRights Convention. " In his ninth chapter of the same Treatise, he says, "If by nature women were equal to men, and excelled as much as they instrength of mind and in talent, truly amongst nations, so many andso different, some would be found where both sexes ruled equally, andothers where the men were ruled by the women, and so educated as tobe inferior to them in talent; but as this has never happened, we arejustified in assuming that women, by nature, have not an equal rightwith men, but that they are necessarily obedient to men, and thus it cannever happen that both sexes can equally rule, and still less that menbe ruled by women. "

Lewes, in his seventh chapter on Modern Philosophy, thus sums upSpinoza's teachings and their result. He says:--

"The doctrine of Spinoza was of great importance, if for nothing morethan having brought about the first crisis in modern philosophy. Hisdoctrine was so clearly stated, and so rigorously deduced from admittedpremises, that he brought philosophy into this dilemma:--

"'Either my premises are correct; and we must admit that every clearand distinct idea is absolutely true; true not only subjectively, butobjectively. 

"'If so, my objection is true;

"'Or my premises are false; the voice of consciousness is not the voiceof truth;

"'And if so, then is my system false, but all philosophy is impossible;since the only ground of certitude--our consciousness--is pronouncedunstable, our only means of knowing the truth is pronouncedfallacious. '"

"Spinozism or scepticism, choose between them, for you have no otherchoice. 

"Mankind refused, however, to make a choice. If the principles whichDescartes had established could have no other result than Spinozism, itwas worth while inquiring whether those principles might not themselvesbe modified. 

"The ground of discussion was shifted, psychology took the place ofontology. It was Descartes's theory of knowledge which led to Spinozism;that theory must therefore he examined; that theory becomes the greatsubject of discussion. Before deciding upon the merits of any systemwhich embraced the great questions of creation, the Deity, immortality, etc. , men saw that it was necessary to decide upon the competency of thehuman mind to solve such problems. All knowledge must be obtained eitherthrough experience or independent of experience. Knowledge dependent onexperience must necessarily be merely knowledge of _phenomena_. All areagreed that experience can only be experience of ourselves as modifiedby objects. All are agreed that to know things _per se--noumena_--wemust know them through some other channel then experience. Have we orhave we not that other channel? This is the problem. "

"Thus, before we can dogmatize upon on to logical subjects, we mustsettle this question--Can we transcend the sphere of our consciousness, and know things _per se_?"

"I. "

ANTHONY COLLINS. 

Freethought, as developed in the Deistic straggles of the seventeenthcentury, had to battle for existence against the Puritanic reactionwhich took its second rise from the worn-out licentious age of the lastof the Stuarts, and that of the no less dangerous (though concealed)libertinism of the Dutch king. A religious rancor also arose which, butfor the influence of a new power, would have re-enacted the tragedy ofreligious persecution. But this rancor became somewhat modified, fromthe fact that the various parties now were unlike the old schismatics, who were each balanced at the opposite ends of the same pole--extremePapacy on the one hand, and Fifth-monarchists on the other--wheneach oscillation from the Protestant centre deranged the balance ofenthusiasm, and drove it to the farthest verge of fanaticism, until allreligious parties were hurled into one chaos of disunion. Such were thefrequent changes of the seventeenth century--but at its close thepower of Deism had evolved a platform on which was to be fought thehostilities of creeds. Here, then, could not exist that commingling ofsects, which were deducible in all their varied extravagance from theBible. Theology had no longer to fight with itself, but with philosophy. Metaphysics became the Jehu of opinion, and sought to drive its chariotthrough the fables of the saints. The old doctrines had to be re-statedto meet new foes. For the Papists, Nonconformists, and Brownists, wereexcluded to make way for the British Illuminati, who spread as muchconsternation through England as did the French Encyclopædists acrossEurope. The new field of action was only planned, for when Catholicismfirst opposed Protestantism, its leaders little thought what a Pandoricbox it was opening--nor did the Divines of the latter sect everdoubt the finality of their own doctrines. They wished to replace oneinfallibility by another. And the same charge can be substantiatedagainst Deism. When in this Augustan age the Free-thinking leaders, fresh from the trammels of Christism, first took the name of MoralPhilosophers, they little knew they were paving the way for an Atheismthey so much dreaded--a democracy more unbridled than their mostconstitutional wishes--a political economy to be tried for half acentury, and then to be discarded--a revolutionary fervor which shouldplough up Europe, and then give place to a Communism, which thefirst founders of this national agitation would have gazed upon withamazement, and shrunk from with despair. Such is the progress of change. The rise of the Deistic movement may be defined in a sentence. It wasthe old struggle of speculative opinion shifting its battle-ground fromtheology to philosophy, prior to the one being discarded, and the otherdeveloped into positive science. 

Amongst the most distinguished of these reformers, stands the name ofAnthony Collins. 

Who and what he was, we have little opportunity of knowing, save fromthe scattered notices of contemporaries; but sufficient is left onrecord to prove him one of the best of men, and the very Corypheus ofDeism. The twin questions of Necessity and Prophecy have been examinedby him perhaps more ably than by any other liberal author. There areslight discrepancies in relation to the great events of his life. TheAbbe Lodivicat says he was born June 21st, 1676, of a rich and noblefamily, at Heston, in Middlesex, and was appointed treasurer of thecounty; but another account says "Hounslow, " which we think was the morelikely place. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge. He studied forthe bar for sometime, but (being wealthy) ultimately renouncedjurisprudence, while his youthful studies admirably fitted him forhis subsequent magisterial duties. He was clever, honest, learned, andesteemed by all who knew his character. The elder D'Israeli says, "thathe was a great lover of literature, and a man of fine genius, while hismorals were immaculate, and his personal character independent. "

The friendship of Locke alone is sufficient to stamp the character ofCollins with honor, and he was one of the most valued friends of thisgreat man. In a volume published by P. Des Maizeaux (a writer we shallhave occasion to notice) in the year 1720, containing a collection ofthe posthumous works of Locke, there are several letters addressed toCollins which fully substantiate our opinion. Locke was then an old man, residing in the country, and Collins was a young man in London, who tooka pleasure in executing the commissions of his illustrious friend. Inone of them, dated October 29th, 1703, he says--"If I were now settingout in the world, I should think it my greatest happiness to have such acompanion as you, who had a true relish of truth, would in earnest seekit with me, from whom I might receive it undisguised, and to whomI might communicate what I thought true, freely. Believe it my goodfriend, to love truth for truth's sake, is the principal part of humanperfection in this world, and the seed-plot of all other virtue; and, if I mistake not, you have as much of it as ever I met with in anybody. What, then, is there wanting to make you equal to the best--a friend forany one to be proud of?"

During the following year the correspondence of Locke appears in a mostinteresting light--the affectionate inquiries, the kind advice, and themost grateful acknowledgments are made to Collins. On Sept. 11th, Lockewrites:--"He that has anything to do with you, must own that friendshipis the natural product of your constitution, and your soul, a noblesoil, is enriched with the two most valuable qualities of humannature--truth and friendship. What a treasure have I then in such afriend with whom I can converse, and be enlightened about the highestspeculations!" On the 1st of October he wrote Collins on his rapiddecay, "But this, I believe, he will assure you, that my infirmitiesprevail so fast on me, that unless you make haste hither, I may lose thesatisfaction of ever seeing again a man that I value in the first rankof those I leave behind me. " This was written twenty-seven days beforehis death. Four days before his decease, he wrote a letter to be givento Collins after his death. This document is one of the most importantin relation to the life of the great Freethinker--it irrefragably provesthe falsity of everything that may be alleged against the character ofCollins:--

"Oates, August 23, 1704. For Anthony Collins, Esq. 

"Dear Sir--By my will, you will see that I had some kindness for * * *And I knew no better way to take care of him, than to put him, and whatI designed for him, into your hands and management. The knowledge Ihave of your virtues of all kinds, secures the trust, which, by yourpermission, I have placed in you; and the peculiar esteem and love Ihave observed in the young man for you, will dispose him to be ruled andinfluenced by you, so of that I need say nothing. May you live longand happy, in the enjoyment of health, freedom, content, and all thoseblessings which Providence has bestowed on, you, and your virtuesentitle you to. I know you loved me living, and will preserve my memorynow I am dead. * * * I leave my best wishes with you. 

"John Locke. "

Such is the honorable connection which existed between Locke andCollins. Collins's first publication was a tract, "Several of the LondonCases Considered, " in the year 1700. In 1707, he published an "EssayConcerning the Use of Reason on Propositions, the evidence whereofdepends upon Human Testimony;" "in which, " says Dr. Leland, "there aresome good observations, mixed with others of a suspicious nature andtendency. " It principally turned on the Trinitarian controversy thenraging, and is of little interest now. In this year Collins unitedwith Dodwell in the controversy carried on by Dr. Samuel Clarke. Oneof Clarke's biographers alludes to it thus: "Dr. Clarke's argumentsin favor of the immateriality, and consequent immortality of the soul, called out, however, a far more formidable antagonist than Dodwell, in the person of Anthony Collins, an English gentleman of singularintellectual acuteness, but, unhappily, of Infidel principles. Thecontroversy was continued through several short treatises. On the whole, though Clarke, in some instances, laid himself open to the keen andsearching dialectics of his gifted antagonist, the victory certainlyremained with the Divine. " Of course it is only to be expected that suchwill be the opinion of an opponent--but it is further proof of Collins'sability and character. In 1703 appeared his celebrated "Discoursesof Freethinking, " which perhaps created the greatest sensation in thereligious world (with the exception of the "Age of Reason") of any bookpublished against Christianity. This book is as able a defence ofthe freedom of the expression of thought without penalty, as was everpublished. It is divided into four sections. In the 1st, Freethinkingis defined--in five arguments. In the 2nd, That it is our duty tothink freely on those points of which men are denied the right to thinkfreely: such as of the nature and attributes of God, the truth andauthority of Scriptures, and of the meaning of Scriptures, in sevenarguments and eleven instances. The third section is the considerationof six objections to Freethinking--from the whole of which he concludes(1) That Freethinkers must have more understanding, and that they mustnecessarily be the most virtuous people. (2) That they have, in fact, been the most understanding and virtuous people in all ages. Herefollows the names of a great number of men whom Collins classified asFreethinkers, and of whom we have no reason to be ashamed. 

This book was answered by many divines, but none of them emergedfrom the contest with such Christian honors as the famous Dr. Bentley--considered England's greatest classical scholar. In the sameyear, the Dr. Published his reply under the signature of "PhileleutherosLipsiensis. " The fame of Bentley was considered equal to Collins's; andit has always been represented that this reply completely crushedthe Freethinker--nothing could be farther from the truth. Bentleyprincipally attacked the Greek quotations and denounced Collins for hisignorance in not putting his (Bentley's) construction on every disputedword. For this reply, Bentley received the thanks of the University ofCambridge. In condition with this work, Collins is also charged withwilful deception--which has been reproduced in our own lives by devineswho perhaps never read a line of Collins. A French edition of the"Discourse" was translated under the personal inspection of Collins:and it is said that he altered the construction of several sentencesto evade the charges brought against him by Bentley Dr. Leland isparticularly eloquent upon this; and the Rev. Mr. Lorimer, of Glasgow, triumphantly plagiarises the complaint of the men whose defects he canonly imitate. There is another charge connected with Bentley and hisfriends, which it is desirous should be exposed. The elder D'Israelisays:--"Anthony Collins wrote several well-known works, withoutprefixing his name; but having pushed too far his curious and polemicalpoints, he incurred the odium of a Freethinker--a term which then beganto be in vogue, and which the French adopted by translating it, intheir way--'a strong thinker, ' or _esprit fort_. Whatever tendencyto 'liberalise' the mind from the dogmas and creeds prevails in theseworks, the talents and learning of Collins were of the first class. Hismorals were immaculate, and his personal character independent; but the_odium theologicum_ of those days combined every means to stab in thedark, till the taste became hereditary with some. I may mention a factof this cruel bigotry which occurred within my own observation, on oneof the most polished men of the age. The late Mr. Cumberland, in theromance entitled his 'Life' gave this extraordinary fact. He said thatDr. Bentley, who so ably replied to Collins's 'Discourse, ' when manyyears after he discovered him fallen into great distress, conceivingthat by having ruined Collins's character as a writer for ever, he hadbeen the occasion of his personal misery, he liberally contributed tohis maintenance. In vain I mentioned to that elegant writer, who wasnot curious about facts, that this person could never have been AnthonyCollins, who had always a plentiful fortune; and when it was suggestedto him that this 'A. Collins' as he printed it, must have been ArthurCollins, the historic compiler, who was often in pecuniary difficulties, still he persisted in sending the lie down to posterity, withoutalteration, in his second edition, observing to a friend of mine, that'the story, while it told well, might serve as a striking instance ofhis great relative's generosity; and that it should stand because itcould do no harm to any but to Anthony Collins, whom he considered aslittle short of an Atheist. '" Such is a specimen of Christian honor andjustice. 

In 1715, appeared his "Philosophical inquiry into Human Liberty. " Dr. Clarke was again his opponent. The publication of this work marked anepoch in metaphysics. Dugald Stewart, in criticising the discussion onMoral Liberty between Clarke and Leibnitz, says, "But soon after thiscontroversy was brought to a conclusion by the death of his antagonist, he (Clarke) had to renew the same argument, in reply to his countryman, Anthony Collins, who, following the footsteps of Hobbes, with logicaltalents not inferior to his master (and with a weight of personalcharacter in his favor to which his master had no pretensions, ) gave tothe cause which he so warmly espoused, a degree of credit amongstsober and inquiring politicians, which it had never before possessedin England. " The following are the principal arguments of Collins inreference to Liberty and Necessity:--

First. Though I deny Liberty in a certain meaning of that word, yet Icontend for Liberty, as it signifies _a power in man to do as he willsor pleases_. 

Secondly. When I affirm _Necessity_ I contend only for _moralnecessity_; meaning thereby that man, who is an intelligent and sensiblebeing, is determined by his reason and senses; and I deny any man tobe subject to such necessity as is in clocks, watches, and such otherbeings, which, for want of intelligence and sensation, are subject to anabsolute, physical or mechanical necessity. 

Thirdly, I have undertaken to show, that the notions I advance are sofar from being inconsistent with, that they are the sole foundation ofmorality and laws, and of rewards and punishments in society, and thatthe notions I explode are subversive of them. 

From the above premises, Collins sought to show that man is a necessaryagent. (1) From our experience (through consciousness. ) (2) From theimpossibility of liberty. (3) From the consideration of the divineprescience. (4) From the nature and use of rewards and punishments. (5)From the nature of morality. Such were the principles on which the greatquestion of Necessity has ever been advocated--from Hobbes to Collins, Jonathan Ed wards to Mackintosh and Spencer. In the year 1704 Tolanddedicated to him a new translation of Æsop's Fables. There are manyanecdotes respecting Collins inserted in religious magazines, most ofwhich are false, and all without proof. One of them, related in a mostcircumstantial manner, appears to be the favorite. It depicts Collinswalking out in the country on a Sunday morning, when he meets acountryman returning from Church. 

"Well, Hodge, " says Collins, "so you have been enjoying the freshbreezes of nature, this fine morning. "

The clown replied that "he had been worshipping nature's God, " andproved it by repeating the substance of the Athanasian creed. Upon whichCollins questions him as to the residence of his God: and for a reply istold that his God is so large, that he fills the universe; and so smallthat he dwells in his breast. This sublime fact, we are told, had moreeffect upon Collins's mind than all the books written against him by theclergy. When will sensible men reject such charlatanism?

The next great work of Collins was his "Discourse on the Grounds andReasons of the Christian Religion, " in two parts. The first containingsome considerations on the quotations made from the Old in the NewTestament, and particularly on the prophecies cited from the former, andsaid to be fulfilled in the latter. The second containing an examinationof the scheme advanced by Mr. Whiston, in his essay towards restoringthe true text of the Old Testament, and for vindicating the citationsthence made in the New Testament, to which is prefixed an apology forfree debate and liberty of writing. This book took the religious worldby storm; it is even thought it struck more dismay amongst divinesthan his former essay on Freethink-ing. The book proceeds to show thatChristianity is not proved by prophecy. That the Apostles relied on thepredictions in the Old Testament, and their fulfilment in Jesus asthe only sure proof of the truth of their religion; if therefore, theprophecies are not thoroughly literal, and fulfilled distinctly, there can be no proof in Christianity. He then examines the principalprophecies, and dismisses them, as allegorical fables too vague to be ofany credit. In less than two years no less than thirty-five bookswere published in reply to this work, written by the ablest and mostinfluential theologians in England. In 1727 Collins published anotherlarge work, "The Scheme of Literal Prophecy Considered, " in which hestill further defends his view principally against the sophisticalreasoning of Whiston, and finally vanquished the whole of his opponents. 

Perhaps no Freethinker, with the single exception of Hobbes, was soattacked during his life as Collins. Toland and Woolston were persecutedand driven into prison and poverty; but Collins, with his profusion ofwealth, could oppose Christianity with applause--mingle in the gaiety ofthe Court--occupy a seat on the magisterial bench--be the welcome guestof the most liberal of the aristocracy, contemporary with others whoeven languished in prison for the propagation of similar sentiments. Since his day the clergy have grown wiser; then the most trivialpamphlet on the Deistic side created a consternation amongst the saints, and they strove who should be the first to answer it--indeed, itwas considered a test of honor amongst the clergy to be eager in theexposure of Deism: but this style of warfare was discontinued after thelapse of a few years. The most discerning observers discovered that inproportion to the answers published against liberal works, the influenceof the most powerful side decreased. Force, then, gradually interfered, and acts of Parliament were considered the only logical refutation of aphilosophical heresy. The anomaly of our laws interfered again. Collinswas rich, and so must escape the fangs of the law. Thomas Woolston waspoor, so his vitals were pierced by laws which Collins escaped--yet bothcommitted the same offence. In later times Gibbon traced the rise ofChristianity, and about the same time Paine accomplished another portionof the same risk--and the Government which prosecuted the plebeian, flattered the patrician. But Collins's time was rapidly drawing nigh. Onthe 13th of December, 1729, he expired, aged fifty-three years; and toshow the esteem in which his character was held, the following noticewas inserted in the newspapers of the day--all hostile to his views, yet striving to make it appear that he was, after all, not so great anInfidel as his reputation honored him with:--"On Saturday last, died athis house in Harley Square, Anthony Collins, Esq. He was a remarkablyactive, up right, and impartial magistrate, the tender husband the kindparent, the good master, and the true friend He was a great promoter ofliterature in all its branch es; and an immoveable asserter of universalliberty in all civil and religious matters. Whatever his sentimentswere on certain points, this is what he declared at the time of hisdeath--viz. , that he had always endeavored, to the best of his ability, to serve God, his king, and his country, so he was persuaded he wasgoing to that place which God hath prepared for them that serve him, andpresently afterwards he said, the Catholic religion is to serve God androan. He was an eminent example of temperance and sobriety, and one thathad the true art of living. His worst enemies could never charge himwith any vice or immorality. " With this character the Freethinkers haveno right to be dissatisfied. The Abbe Lodivicat says, "His library wascurious and valuable; always open to the learned, even to his opponents, whom he furnished with pleasure, both with books and arguments, whichwere employed in confuting him. " Mr. D'Israeli says he has seena catalogue of Collins's library, elaborately drawn up in his ownhandwriting, and it must have contained a splendid selection of books. This is proved by the correspondence with Locke, and the extensivenumber of quotations spread throughout his published works. 

By the death of Collins, and the defalcation of one who abused the nameof a Deist, the cause of Free-thought was impeded at the time when itmost needed assistance. Collins had written a great number of tractsand larger works, intending them to be published after his death: onecollection of eight octavo volumes of manuscript containing the attacksupon Christianity, by which he intended his name to be transmitted toposterity, were all arranged ready for publication as his posthumousworks. To ensure their credit-able appearance, and to reward a manwhom he had thought worthy of confidence, and one who professed to be adisciple of Collins, he bequeathed them to Des Maizeaux, then a popularauthor and editor. He had edited the correspondence of Locke andCollins, written the lite of Bayle, and subsequently edited Toland. Theidea of Collins was to give his work to Des Maizeaux for a recompensefor the trouble of publishing them, while he would derive the wholeprofits of their sale, which no doubt would be very large. It appearsthat the widow of Collins was much younger than himself--in league withthe Church of England; and was in rather a suspicious friendship withmore than one clerical antagonist of her late husband. Des Maizeauxbeing worked upon conjointly by Mrs. Collins and a person namedTomlinson, was induced to accept a present of fifty guineas, andrelinquished the possession of the manuscripts. It was not long, however, before his conscience accused him of the great wrong done tothe memory of his benefactor, and to the Free-thinking cause. His regretwas turned into the most profound compunction for his crime; and in thisstate of mind he wrote a long letter to one who had been a mutual friendto Collins and himself, acknowledging that he had done "a most wickedthing, " saying--"I am convinced that I have acted contrary to the willand intention of my dear deceased friend; showed a disregard to theparticular mark of esteem he gave me on that occasion; in short, thatI have forfeited what is dearer to me than my own life--honor andreputation. .. . I send you the fifty guineas I received, which I do nowlook upon as the wages of iniquity, and I desire you to return them toMrs. Collins, who, as I hope it of her justice, equity, and regard toMr. Collinses intentions, will be pleased to cancel my paper. "

This appeal (which proved that Des Maizeaux, if he was weak-minded, wasnot absolutely dishonest) had no effect on Mrs. Collins. The manuscriptswere never returned. What their contents were, no one now can inform us. We are justified, however, in supposing that as those eight volumes werethe crowning efforts of a mind which in its youth was brilliant in nocommon degree, must have been even superior to those books which rousedEngland from its dreamy lethargy, and brought about a revolutionin controversy. Whether they touched upon miracles, or the externalevidences, or the morals of Christism, is unknown. The curtain wasdrawn over the scene of demolition. Seven years after this time thecontroversy was reopened by Mrs. Collins, in the year 1737, on accountof a report being current that Mrs. C. Had permitted transcripts ofthose manuscripts to get abroad. The widow wrote some very sharp lettersto Des Maizeaux, and he replied in a tone which speaks faithfully of theaffection he still bore to Collins's memory. He concludes thus:--"Mr. Collins loved me and esteemed me for my integrity and sincerity, ofwhich he had several proofs. How I have been drawn in to injure him, to forfeit the good opinion he had of me, and which, were he now alive, would deservedly expose me to his utmost contempt, is a grief which Ishall carry to the grave. It would be a sort of comfort to me if thosewho have consented I should be drawn in, were in some measure sensibleof the guilt towards so good, kind, generous a man. "

Such is an epitome of the secret history of the MSS. Of Anthony Collins. If we look at the fate of the MSS. Of other Deists, we shall have goodreasons for believing that some of the ablest writings, meant to give aposthumous reputation to their authors, have disappeared into the handsof either ignorant or designing persons. Five volumes, at least, ofToland's works, meant for publication, were, by his death, irretrievablylost. Blount's MSS. Never appeared. Two volumes of Tindall's were seizedby the Bishop of London, and destroyed. Woolston's MSS. Met with nobetter fate. Chubb carefully prepared his works, and published them inhis lifetime. Bolingbroke made Mallet his confidant, as Collins did byDes Maizeaux. The name of St. John produced £10, 000 to Mallet; but thoseworks were left with the tacit acknowledge ment that the Scotch poetshould write a suitable life of the peer. The letter of Mallet toLord Cornbury can only be compared to an invitation for a bid for thesuppression of the "Philosophical Works" of St. John; and if this wasnot sufficient, we need only instance the apparent solicitation withwhich he stopped a well-known influential dignitary of the church on theday when the works were to appear, by pulling out his watch, and saying, "My Lord, Christianity will tremble at a quarter to twelve. " We maybe thankful to the pecuniary poverty of our opponents even for thepossession of the first philosophy. Some of Hume's and Gibbon's workshave not yet appeared. The MSS. Of most of the minor Freethinkersdisappeared with their authors. There is no doubt but what Robert Taylorleft some valuable writings which cannot be recovered. Such is thefeeble chance of great men's writings being published when they are nolonger alive. 

With regard to the literary claims of Collins. His works are logicallycomposed and explicitly worded. He invariably commences by stating thegroundwork of his opponent's theories, and from them deduces a greatnumber of facts and axioms of a contrary character, and upon thosebuilds his whole chain of argument. He is seldom witty--never uses theflowers of rhetoric, combining a most rigid analysis with a syntheticscheme, admitting but of one unswerving end. He was characteristicallygreat in purpose. He avoided carrying forward his arguments beyondthe basis of his facts. Whether in treating the tangled intricaciesof necessity, or the theological quagmires of prophecy, he invariablyexplained without confusing, and refuted without involving othersubjects than those legitimately belonging to the controversy. His styleof writing was serious, plain, and without an undue levity, yet withalperfectly readable. Men studied Collins who shrunk from contact withthe lion-hearted Woolston, whose brusque pen too often shocked thoseit failed to convince. There was a timidity in many of the letters ofBlount, and a craving wish to rely more on the witticisms of Brown, thanwas to be found in the free and manly spirit of our hero. To the generalpublic, the abstruse speculations of the persecuted Toland were abarrier which his many classical allusions only heightened; and themusical syllables of Shaftesbury, with his style, at once so elevated, so pompous, and so quaint; or the political economic doctrines ofMandeville, all tended to exalt the name of Collins above those of hiscontemporaries and immediate successors; and posterity cannot fail toplace his bust in that historic niche betwixt Hobbes--his master on onehand--and Bolingbroke, his successor on the other. From the greatSt. John has descended in the true apostolical descent the mantle ofFree-thought upon Hume, Gibbon, Paine, Godwin, Carlile, Taylor, andOwen. And amongst this brilliant galaxy of genius, no name is moredeserving of respect than that of Anthony Collins. 

A. C. 

DES CARTES. 

Rene des Cartes Duperron, better known as Des Cartes, the father ofmodern philosophy, was born at La Haye, in Touraine, of Breton parents, near the close of the sixteenth century, at a time when Bacon was likethe morning sun, rising to shed new rays of bright light over the thendark world of philosophy. The mother of Des Cartes died while he was buta few days old, and himself a sickly child, he began to take part inthe battle of life with but little appearance of ever possessing thecapability for action on the minds of his fellows, which he afterwardsso fully exercised. Debarred, however, by his physical weakness frommany boyish pursuits, he devoted himself to study in his earliest years, and during his youth gained the title of the young philosopher, fromhis eagerness to learn, and from his earnest endeavors by inquiryand experiment to solve every problem presented to his notice. He waseducated in the Jesuits' College of La Flèche; and the monument erectedto him at Stockholm informs us, "That having mastered all the learningof the schools, which proved short of his expectations, he betookhimself to the army in Germany and Hungary, and there spent his vacantwinter hours in comparing the mysteries and phenomena of nature with thelaws of mathematics, daring to hope that the one might serve as a keyto the other. Quitting, therefore, all other pursuits, he retired to alittle village near Egmont, in Holland, where spending twenty-five yearsin continual reading and meditation, he effected his design. "

In his celebrated "Discourse on Method, " he says, --"As soon as my agepermitted me to leave my preceptors, I entirely gave up the study ofletters; and, resolving to seek no other science than that which I couldfind in myself, or else in the great book of the world, I employedthe remainder of my youth in travel--in seeing courts and camps--infrequenting people of diverse humors and conditions--in collectingvarious experiences; and, above all, in endeavoring to draw someprofitable reflection from what I saw. For it seemed to me that I shouldmeet with more truth in the reasonings which each man makes in his ownaffairs, and which, if wrong, would be speedily punished by failure, than in those reasonings which the philosopher makes in his study uponspeculations which produce no effect, and which are of no consequenceto him, except perhaps that he will be the more vain of them, the moreremote they are from common sense, because he would then have beenforced to employ more ingenuity and subtlety to render them plausible. "

At the age of thirty-three Des Cartes retired from the world for aperiod of eight years, and his seclusion was so effectual during thattime, that his place of residence was unknown to his friends. He thereprepared the "Meditations, " and "Discourse on Method, " which have sincecaused so much pen-and-ink warfare amongst those who have aspired tobe ranked as philosophical thinkers. He became European in fame; and, invited by Christina of Sweden, he visited her kingdom, but the rudenessof the climate proved too much for his delicate frame, and he diedat Stockholm in the year 1650, from inflammation of the lungs, beingfifty-four years of age at the time of his death. 

Des Cartes was perhaps the most original thinker that France had upto that date produced; and, contemporary with Bacon, he exercised apowerful influence or the progress of thought in Europe; but although agreat thinker, he was not a brave man, and the fear of giving offenceto the church and government, has certainly prevented him from makingpublic some of his writings, and perhaps has toned down some of thesethoughts which, when first uttered, took a higher flight, and struckfull home to the truth itself. 

The father and founder of the deductive method, Des Cartes still proudlyreigns to the present day, although some of his conclusions havebeen over-turned, and others of his thinkings have been carried toconclusions which he never dared to dream of. He gave a strong aid tothe tendency of advancing civilization, to separate philosophy fromtheology, thereby striking a blow, slow in its effect, and effectual inits destructive operation, on all priestcraft. In his dedication ol the"Meditations, " he says, --"I have always thought that the two questionsof the existence of God and the nature of the soul, were the chiefof those which ought to be demonstrated rather by philosophy than bytheology; for although it is sufficient for us, the faithful, to believein God, and that the soul does not perish with the body, it does notseem possible ever to persuade the Infidels to any religion, unless wefirst prove to them these two things by natural reason. "

Having relinquished faith, he found that he must choose an entirely newfaith in which to march with reason; the old ways were so cumbered withpriests and Bibles, that progression would have been impossible. Thisgave us his method. He wanted a starting point from which to reason, some indisputable fact upon which to found future thinkings. 

"He has given us the detailed history of his doubts. He has told us howhe found that he could, plausibly enough, doubt of everything excepthis own existence. He pushed his scepticism to the verge ofself-annihilation. There he stopped: there in self, there in hisconsciousness, he found at last an irresistible fact, an irreversiblecertainty. Firm ground was discovered. He could doubt the existenceof the external world, and treat it as a phantasm. He could doubt theexistence of God, and treat the belief as a superstition. But of theexistence of his own thinking, doubting mind, no sort of doubt waspossible. He, the doubter, existed if nothing else existed. Theexistence that was revealed to him in his own consciousness, was theprimary fact, the first indubitable certainty. Hence his famous _Cogitoergo Sum_: I think, therefore I am. " (_Lewes's Bio. Hist. Phil. _)

Proceeding from the certainty of his existence, Des Cartes endeavorsto rind other equally certain tacts, and for that purpose presentsthe following doctrine and rules for our guidance:--The basis of allcertitude is consciousness, consciousness is the sole foundation ofabsolute certainty, whatever it distinctly proclaims must be true. The process is, therefore, rendered clear and simple: examine yourconsciousness--each distinct reply will be a fact. 

He tells us further that all clear ideas are true--that whatever isclearly and distinctly conceived is true--and in these lie the vitalityof his system, the cause of the truth or error of his thinkings. 

The following are the rules he gave us for the detection and separationof true ideas from false, (_i. E. _, imperfect or complex):--

"1. Never to accept anything as true but what is evidently so; to admitnothing but what so clearly and distinctly presents itself as true, thatthere can be no reason to doubt it. 

"2. To divide every question into as many separate parts as possible, that each part being more easily conceived, the whole may be moreintelligible. 

"3. To conduct the examination with order, beginning by that of objectsthe most simple, and therefore the easiest to be known, and ascendinglittle by little up to knowledge of the most complex. 

"4. To make such exact calculations, and such circumspections as to beconfident that nothing essential has been omitted. Consciousness beingthe basis of all certitude, everything of which you are clearly anddistinctly conscious must be true: everything which you clearly anddistinctly conceive, exists, if the idea of it involve existence. "

In these four rules we have the essential part of one half of DesCartes's system, the other, which is equally important, is the attemptto solve metaphysical problems by mathematical aid. To mathematics hehad devoted much of his time. He it was who, at the age of twenty three, made the grand discovery of the applicability of algebra to geometry. While deeply engaged in mathematical studies and investigations, hecame to the conclusion that mathematics were capable of a still furthersimplification, and of much more extended application. Impressed withthe certainty of the conclusions arrived at by the aid of mathematicalreasoning, he began to apply mathematics to metaphysics. 

His ambition was to found a system which should be solid andconvincing. Having searched for certitude, he had found _its basis_ inconsciousness; he next wanted a _method_, and hoped he had found it inmathematics. 

He tells us that "those long chains of reasoning, all simple andeasy, by which geometers used to arrive at their most difficultdemonstrations, suggested to him that all things which came within humanknowledge, must follow each other in a similar chain; and that providedwe abstain from admitting anything as true which is not so, and thatwe always preserve in them the order necessary to deduce one from theother, there can be none so remote to which we cannot finally attain, nor so obscure but that we may discover them. "

Acting out this, he dealt with metaphysics as we should with a problemfrom Euclid, and expected by rigorous reasoning to discover the truth. He, like Archimedes, had wished for a standing place from which to usethe lever, that should overturn the world; but, having a sure standingplace in the indubitable fact of his own existence, he did not possesssufficient courage to put forth the mighty power--it was left for onewho came after him to fairly attempt the over-throw of the world of errorso long existent. 

Cartesianism was sufficiently obnoxious to the divines to provoketheir wrath; and yet, from some of its peculiarities, it has found manyopponents amongst the philosophical party. The Cartesian philosophyis founded on two great principles, the one metaphysical, the otherphysical. The metaphysical is Des Cartes's foundation-stone--the "Ithink, therefore I am. " This has been warmly attacked as not beinglogical. Des Cartes said his existence was a fact--a fact above andbeyond all logic; logic could neither prove nor disprove it. The _Cogitoergo Sum_ was not new itself, but it was the first stone of a newbuilding--the first step in a new road: from this fact Des Cartes triedto reach another, and from that others. 

The physical principle is that nothing exists but substance, whichhe makes of two kinds--the one a substance that thinks, the other asubstance extended. Actual thought and actual extension are the essenceof substance, so that the thinking substance cannot be without someactual thought, nor can anything be retrenched from the extension of athing, without taking away so much of its actual substance. 

In his physical speculations, Des Cartes has allowed his imaginationto run very wild. His famous theory of vortices is an example ofthis. Assuming extension to be the essence of substance, he denied thepossibility of a vacuum by that assumption; for if extension be theessence of substance, wherever extension is, there substance must be. This substance he assumes to have originally been divided into equalangular particles, each endowed with an equal degree of motion; severalsystems or collections of these particles he holds to have a motionabout certain equidistant points, or centres, and that the particlesmoving round these composed so many vortices. These angular particles, by their intestine motions, he supposes to become, as it were, groundinto a spherical form; the parts rubbed off are called matter of thefirst element, while the spherical globules he calls matter of thesecond element; and since there would be a large quantity of thiselement, he supposes it to be driven towards the centre of each vortexby the circular motion of the globules, and that there it forms a largespherical body such as the suu. This sun being thus formed, andmoving about its own axis with the common matter of the vortex, wouldnecessarily throw out some parts of its matter, through the vacuitiesof the globules of the second element constituting the vortex; and thisespecially at such places as are farthest from its poles: receiving, atthe same time in, by these poles, as much as it loses in its equatorialparts. And, by these means, it would be able to carry round with itthose globules that are nearest, with the greater velocity; and theremoter, with less. And, further: those globules which are nearest thecentre of the sun, must be smallest; because, were they greater, or equal, they would, by reason of their velocity, have a greatercentrifugal force, and recede from the centre. If it should happen thatany of these sun-like bodies, in the centres of the several vortices, should be so in-crusted and weakened, as to be carried about in thevortex of the true sun: if it were of less solidity, or had less motionthan the globules towards the extremity of the solar vortex, it woulddescend towards the sun, till it met with globules of the same solidity, and susceptible of the same degree of motion with itself* and thus, being fixed there, it would be for ever after carried about by themotion of the vortex, without either approaching any nearer to, orreceding from the sun, and so become a planet. Supposing, then, allthis, we are next to imagine that our system was at first divided intoseveral vortices, in the centre of each of which was a lucid sphericalbody; and that some of these being gradually incrustated, were swallowedup by others which were larger, and more powerful, till at last theywere all destroyed and swallowed up by the biggest solar vortex, except some few which were thrown off in right lines from one vortex toanother, and so became comets. It should also be added, that in additionto the two elements mentioned above, those particles which may yetexist, and be only in the course of reduction to their globular form anit still retain their angular proportions, form a third element. 

This theory has found many opponents; but in this state of our workwe conceive our duty to be that of giving a simple narrative of thephilosopher's ideas, rather than a history of the various criticismsupon those ideas, the more especially as our pages scarcely afford roomfor such a mode of treatment. 

Having formed his method, Des Cartes proceeded to apply it. The basisof certitude being consciousness, he interrogated his consciousness, andfound that he had an idea of a substance infinite, eternal, immutable, independent, omniscient, omnipotent. This he called an idea of God:he said, "I exist as a miserably imperfect finite being, subject tochange--ignorant, incapable of creating anything--I find by my finitudethat I am not the infinite; by my liability to change that I am not theimmutable; by my ignorance that I am not the omniscient: in short, bymy imperfection, that I am not the perfect. Yet an infinite, immutable, omniscient, and perfect being must exist, because infinity, immutability, omniscience, and perfection are applied as correlatives inmy ideas of finitude, change, etc. God therefore exists: his existenceis clearly proclaimed in my consciousness, and therefore ceases to bea matter of doubt any more than the fact of my own existence. Theconception of an infinite being proved his real existence, for if thereis not really such a being I must have made the conception; but ifI could make it I can also unmake it, which evidently is not true;therefore there must be externally to myself, an archetype from whichthe conception was derived. ". .. . "All that we clearly and distinctlyconceive as contained in anything is true of that thing. "

"Now, we conceive clearly and distinctly that the existence of God iscontained in the idea we have of him: ergo--God exists. "--(_Lewes's Bio. Hist. Phil. _)

Des Cartes was of opinion that his demonstrations of the existence ofGod "equal or even surpass in certitude the demonstrations of geometry. "In this opinion we must confess we cannot share. He has already toldus that the basis of all certitude is consciousness--that whateveris clearly and distinctly conceived, must be true--that imperfect andcomplex conceptions are false ones. The first proposition, all mustadmit, is applicable to themselves. I conceive a fact clearly anddistinctly, and, despite all resistance, am compelled to accept thatfact; and if that fact be accepted beyond doubt, no higher degree ofcertainty can be attained, That two and two are four--that I exist--arefacts which I never doubt. The _Cogito ergo Sum_ is irresistible, because indubitable; but _Cogito ergo Deus est_ is a sentence requiringmuch consideration, and upon the face of it is no syllogism, but, on thecontrary, is illogical. If Des Cartes meant "I" am conscious that I amnot the whole of existence, he would be indisputable; but if he meantthat "I" can be conscious of an existence entirely distinct, apart from, and external to, that very consciousness, then his whole reasoning fromthat point appears fallacious. 

We use the word "I" as given by Des Cartes. Mill, in his "System ofLogic, " says, "The ambiguity in this case is in the pronoun I, by whichin one place is to be understood _my will_: in another _the laws ofmy nature_. If the conception, existing as it does in my mind, had nooriginal without, the conclusion would unquestionably follow that '1'had made it--that is, that the laws of my nature had spontaneouslyevolved it; but that my _will_ made it would not follow. Now, when DesCartes afterwards adds that I cannot unmake the conception, he meansthat I cannot get rid of it by an act of my will, which is true; but isnot the proposition required. That what some of the laws of my naturehave produced, other laws, or those same laws in other circumstances, might not subsequently efface, he would have found it difficult toestablish. "

Treating the existence of God as demonstrated from the _a priori_ ideaof perfection and infinity, and by the clearness of his idea of God'sexistence, Des Cartes then proceeds to deal with the distinction betweenbody and soul. To prove this distinction was to him an easy matter. The fundamental and essential attribute of substance must be extension, because we can denude substance of every quality but that of extension;this we cannot touch without at the same time affecting the substance. . The fundamental attribute of mind is thought; it is in the act ofthinking that the consciousness of existence is revealed; to be withoutthought would be to be without consciousness. 

Des Cartes has given us, among others, the axiom "That two substancesare really distinct when their ideas are complete, and no way imply eachother. The idea of extension is complete and distinct from the idea ofthought, which latter is also clear and distinct by itself. It follows, therefore, that substance and mind are distinct in essence. "

Des Cartes has, from the vagueness of some of his statements, subjectedhimself to the charge of asserting the existence of innate ideas, and the following quotations will speak for themselves on thesubject:--"When I said that the idea of God is innate in us, I nevermeant more than this, that Nature has endowed us with a faculty by whichwe may know God; but I have never either said or thought that such ideashad an actual existence, or even that they were a species distinct fromthe faculty of thinking. .. . Although the idea of God is so imprinted onour minds, that every person has within him the faculty of knowing him, it does not follow that there may not have been various individuals whohave passed through life without ever making this idea a distinct objectof apprehension; and, in truth, they who think they have an idea of aplurality of Gods, have no idea of God whatever. " This seems explicitas negativing the charge of holding the doctrine of innate ideas; but inthe _Edinburgh Review_ several passages are given, amongst which isthe following:--"By the word idea I understand all that can be in ourthoughts; and I distinguish three sorts of ideas--adventitious, likethe common idea of the sun, framed by the mind, such as that whichastronomical reasoning gives of the sun; and innate, as the idea of God, mind, body, a triangle, and generally all those which represent true, immutable, and eternal essences. " With regard to these rather oppositestatements, Lewes says, "If Des Cartes, when pressed by objections, gavedifferent explanations, we must only set it down to a want of a steadyconception of the vital importance of innate ideas to his system. Thefact remains that innate ideas form the necessary groundwork of theCartesian doctrine. .. . The radical error of all ontological speculationlies in the assumption that we have ideas independent of experience;because experience can only tell us of ourselves or of phenomena; ofnoumena it can tell us nothing. .. . The fundamental question, then, ofmodern philosophy is this--Have we any ideas independent of experience?"

Des Cartes's disciples are of two classes, the "mathematical cultivatorsof physic, " and the "deductive cultivators of philosophy. " The firstclass of disciples are far in advance of their chief, and can only beconsidered as having received an impulse in a true direction. Thesecond class unhesitatingly accepted his principles, and continued histhinking, although they developed his system in a different manner, andarrived at stronger conclusions than Des Cartes's courage would havesupported. Some of the physical speculations of Des Cartes have beenmuch ridiculed by subsequent writers; but many reasons may be urged, notonly against that ridicule, but also against the more moderate censurewhich several able critics have dealt out against the intellectualcharacter of Des Cartes. It should be remembered that the theories ofall his predecessors were mere conjectural speculations respecting theplaces and paths of celestial bodies, etc. Innumerable hypotheses hadbeen formed and found useless; and we ought rather to look to what DesCartes did accomplish under the many difficulties of his position, in respect to the then, state of scientific knowledge, than to judgeharshly of those speculations, which, though attended with no beneficialresult to humanity at large, were doubtless well intended by theirauthor. He was the first man who brought optical science under thecommand of mathematics, by the discovery of the law of refraction of theordinary ray through diaphanous bodies; and probably there is scarcelya name on record, the bearer of which has given a greater impulse tomathematical and philosophical inquiry than Des Cartes. Although, as amathematician, he published but little, yet in every subject which hehas treated he has opened, not only a new field lor investigation, butalso a new road for the investigators to proceed by. His discovery ofthe simple application of the notation of indices to algebraical powers, has totally remodelled the whole science of algebra. His conception ofexpressing the fundamental property of curve lines and curve surfacesby equations between the co-ordinates has led to an almost totalsupersedence of the geometry of the ancients. Contemporary with Galileo, and with a knowledge of the persecution to which that father of physicswas being subjected by the Church, we are tempted to express oursurprise that Des Cartes did not extend the right hand of fellowship, help, and sympathy to his brother philosopher; but it is, nevertheless, the fact, that either jealous of the fame of Galileo (as some havealleged. ) or from a fear of being involved in the same persecutions, DesCartes abstained from visiting the astronomer, although travelling forsome time near his place of abode in Italy. Lewes, in his "Life of DesCartes, " says, "Des Cartes was a great thinker; but having said thiswe have almost exhausted the praise we can bestow on him as a man. Indisposition he was timid to servility. While promulgating the proofsof the existence of the Deity, he was in evident alarm lest the Churchshould see something objectionable in them. He had also written anastronomical treatise; but hearing of the fate of Galileo he refrainedfrom publishing, and always used some chicanery in speaking ofthe world's movement. He was not a brave man; he was also not anaffectionate one. There was in him a deficiency of all finer feelings. But he was even-tempered, and studious of not giving offence. "

We are tempted, after a careful perusal of the life and writings of DesCartes and his contemporaries, to be of opinion that he was a man whowished to be considered the chief thinker of his day, and who shunnedand rejected the offers of friendship from other philosophers, lestthey, by being associated with him, should jointly wear laurels whichhe was cultivating solely to form a crown for himself. Despite all, hisbrow still bears a crown, and his fame has a freshness that we might allbe justly proud of, if appertaining to ourselves. 

We trust that in these few pages we have succeeded in presenting DesCartes, to such of our readers who were unacquainted with his writings, sufficiently well to enable them to appreciate him, and to inducethem to search further; and at the same time we hope that those betteracquainted with him will not blame as for the omission of much whichthey may consider more important than the matter which appears in thislittle tract. We have endeavored to picture Des Cartes as the founderof the deductive method, as having the foundation-stone of all hisreasoning in his consciousness. 

"I"

M. DE VOLTAIRE. 

François Marie Arouet, better known by the name of Voltaire, was bornat Chatenay, on the 20th of February, 1694. By assuming the name ofVoltaire, young Arouet followed the custom, at that time generallypracticed by the rich citizens and younger sons, who, leaving the familyname to the heir, assumed that of a fief, or perhaps of a country house. The father of M. De Voltaire was treasurer to the Chamber of Accounts, and his mother, Margaret d'Aumart, was of a noble family of Poitou. Thefortune which the father enjoyed, enabled him to bestow a first-classeducation upon the young Arouet, who was sent to the Jesuits' College, where the sons of the nobility received their education. While atschool, Voltaire began to write poetry, and gave signs of a remarkablegenius. His tutors, Fathers Poree and Jay, from the boldness andindependence of his mind predicted that he would become the apostle ofDeism in France. This prediction he fulfilled. "Voltaire was, " says LordBrougham, "through his whole life, a sincere believer in the existenceand attributes of the Deity. He was a firm and decided, and an openlydeclared unbeliever in Christianity; but he was, without any hesitationor any intermission, a Theist. " His open declaration of disbelief inthe inspiration of the Bible, and his total rejection of the dogmasof Christianity, laid him open to the malignant attacks andmisrepresentations of the priesthood and the bigots of Europe; andso strong were they, that his life was continually in danger. Lord Brougham, in his "Men of Letters of the Time of George III. . "says:--"Voltaire's name is so intimately connected in the minds of allmen with Infidelity, in the minds of most men with irreligion, and, inthe minds of all who are not well-informed, with these qualities alone, that whoever undertakes to write his life and examine his claims to thevast reputation which all the hostile feelings excited by him againsthimself have never been able to destroy, or even materially to impair, has to labor under a great load of prejudice, and can hardly expect, byany detail of particulars, to obtain for his subject even common justiceat the hands of the general reader. "

Voltaire was born in a corrupt age, and in a capital where it wasfashionable to be immoral. When he left College, he was introduced byhis own godfather, the Abbe de Chateauneuf, to the notorious Ninon del'Enclos, who, at her death, left him by will two thousand livresto purchase books. In estimating the character of Voltaire, a dueconsideration must be had for the period in which he lived, and of thenature of the society amidst which he was reared. He lived twenty, yearsunder the reign of Louis XIV. , and during the whole of the reign of theinfamous Louis XV. , when kings, courtiers, and priests set the exampleof the grossest immorality. It was then, as Voltaire said, "that to makethe smallest fortune, it was better to say four words to the mistress ofa king, than to write a hundred volumes. "

Voltaire's life, from his youth upwards, was a stormy one. After he leftCollege, his father, finding him persist in writing poetry, and livingat large, forbade him his house. He insisted upon his son bindinghimself to an attorney. But his restless disposition quite unfitted himfor regular employment, and he soon quitted the profession. He early madethe acquaintance of the most celebrated men of his time, but his genius, his wit, and his sarcasm, soon raised up numerous enemies. At the age oftwenty-two, he was accused of having written a satire upon Louis XIV. , who was just dead, and was thrown into the Bastile. But he was not castdown. It was here that he sketched his poem of the "League, " correctedhis tragedy of "Oedipus, " and wrote some merry verses on themisfortune, of being a prisoner. The Regent, Duke of Orleans, beinginformed of his innocence, restored him to freedom, and granted him arecompense. "I thank your royal highness, " said Voltaire, "for havingprovided me with food; but I hope you will not hereafter troubleyourself concerning my lodging. "

Voltaire, with his activity of mind, and living to so great an age, must necessarily produce many works. They are voluminous, consisting ofhistory, poetry, and philosophy. His dramatic pieces are numerous, manyof which are considered second only to Shakespeare's. "Oedipus, " "Zadig, ""Ingénu, " "Zaire, " "Henri-ade, " "Irene, " "Tancred, " "Mahomet, ""Merope, " "Saul, " "Alzire, " "Le Fanatisme, " "Mariamne, " "Gaston deFoix, " "Enfant Prodigue, " "Pucelle d'Orléans, " an essay on "Fire, " the"Elements, " "History of Charles XII. , " "Lectures on Man, " "Letters onEngland, " "Memoirs, " "Voyage of Sacramentado, " "Micromegas, " "Maid ofOrleans, " "Brutus, " "Adelaide, " "Death of Cæsar, " "Temple of Taste, ""Essay on the Manners and Spirit of Nations, " "An Examination of the HolyScriptures, " and the "Philosophical Dictionary, " are works that emanatedfrom the active brain of this wit, poet, satirist, and philosopher. 

In 1722, while at Brussels, Voltaire met Jean Baptiste Rousseau, whosemisfortunes he deplored, and whose poetic talents he esteemed. Voltaireread some of his poems to Rousseau, and he in return read to Voltairehis "Ode addressed to Posterity, " which Voltaire, it is asserted, toldhim would never arrive at the place to which it was addressed. The twopoets parted irreconcileable foes. 

In 1725, Voltaire was again shut up in the Bastile, through attemptingto revenge an insult inflicted upon him by a courtier. At the end of sixmonths he was released, but ordered to quit Paris. He sought refuge inEngland, in 1726. He was the guest in that country of a Mr. Falconer, of Wandsworth, whose hospitality he remembered with affection so long aslife lasted. Voltaire was known to most of the wits and Freethinkers ofthat day in England. At this early age he was at war with Christianity. "His visit to England, " says Lamartine, "gave assurance and gravity tohis incredulity; for in France he had only known libertines--inEngland he knew philosophers. " He went to visit Congreve, who had theaffectation to tell him that he (Congreve) valued himself, not on hisauthorship, but as a man of the world. To which Voltaire administereda just rebuke by saying, "I should never have come so far to see agentleman!"

Voltaire soon acquired an ample fortune, much of which was expendedin aiding men of letters, and in encouraging such youth as he thoughtdiscovered the seeds of genius. The use he made of riches might prevailon envy itself to pardon him their acquirement. His pen and his pursewere ever at the service of the oppressed. Calas, an infirm old man, living at Toulouse, was accused of having hung his son, to prevent hisbecoming a Catholic. The Catholic population became inflamed, and theyoung man was declared to be a martyr. The father was condemned to thetorture and the wheel, and died protesting his innocence. The familyof Calas was ruined and disgraced. Voltaire, assuring himself of theinnocence of the old man, determined to obtain justice for the family. To this end he labored incessantly for three years. In all this time, hesaid, a smile did not escape him for which he did not reproach himselfas for a crime. His efforts were successful. Nor was this the only causein which he was engaged on the side of the weak and the wronged againstthe powerful and the persecuting. His whole life, though maligned as anInfidel and a-scoffer, was one long act of benevolence. On learning thata young niece of Corneille languished in a condition unworthy of hisname, Voltaire, in the most delicate manner, invited her to his house, and she there received an education suitable to the rank that her birthhad marked lor her in society. "It is the duty of a soldier, " he said, "to succor the niece of his general. "

Voltaire lived for a time at the Court of Frederick the Great ofPrussia, and for many years carried on a correspondence with thatmonarch. He quarrelled with the king, and left the court in a passion. An emissary was despatched to him to request an apology, who said he wasto carry back to the king his answer _verbatim_. Voltaire told him that"the king might go to the devil!" On being asked if that was the messagehe meant to be delivered! "Yes, " he answered, "and add to it that I toldyou that you might go there with him. " In his "Memoirs, " he has drawna most amusing picture of his Prussian Majesty. He, also says, "Priestsnever entered the palace; and, in a word, Frederick lived withoutreligion, without a council, and without a court. "

Wearied with his rambling and unsettled mode of living, Voltaire boughtan estate at Ferney, in the Pays des Gex, where he spent the last twentyyears of his life. He rebuilt the house, laid out gardens, kept a goodtable, and had crowds of visitors from all parts, of Europe. Removedfrom whatever could excite momentary or personal passion, he yielded tohis zeal for the destruction of prejudice, which was the most powerfuland active of all the sensations he felt. This peaceful life, seldomdisturbed except by the threats of persecution rather than persecutionitself, was adorned by those acts of enlightened and bold benevolence, which, while they relieve the sufferings of certain individuals, are ofany service to the whole human race. He was known to Europe as the"Sage of Ferney. " After an absence of more than twenty-seven years, here-visited Paris in the beginning of 1778. He had just finished hisplay of "Irene, " and was anxious to see it performed. His visit was anovation. He had outlived all his enemies. After having been the objectof unrelenting persecution by the priests and corrupt courtiers ofFrance for a period of more than fifty years, he yet lived to see theday when "all that was most eminent in station or most distinguished intalents--all that most shone in society, or most ruled in court, seemedto bend before him. " At this period he, for the first time, saw BenjaminFranklin. They embraced each other in the midst of public acclamations, and it was said to be Solon who embraced Sophocles. 

Voltaire did not survive his triumph long. His unwearied activityinduced him, at his great age, to commence a "Dictionary" upon a novelplan, which he prevailed upon the French Academy to take up. Theselabors brought on spitting of blood, followed by sleeplessness, toobviate which he took opium in considerable quantities. Condorcet saysthat the servant mistook one of the doses, which threw him into a stateof lethargy, from which he never rallied. He lingered for some time, butat length expired on the 30th of May, 1778, in his eighty-fifth year. 

It was the custom in those days, and prevails to a considerable extenteven in our own time, for the religious world to fabricate "horribledeath-beds" of all Freethinkers. Voltaire's last moments were distortedby his enemies after the approved fashion; and notwithstanding themost unqualified denial on the part of Dr. Burard and others, who werepresent at his death, there are many who believe these falsehoods atthis moment. Voltaire died in peace, with the exception of the pettyannoyances to which he was subjected by the priests. The philosophers, too, who wished that no public stigma should be cast upon him by therefusal of Christian burial, persuaded him to undergo confession andabsolution. This, to oblige his friends, he submitted to; but when thecure one day drew him from his lethargy by shouting into his ear, "Doyou believe the divinity of Jesus Christ?" Voltaire exclaimed, "In thename of God, Sir, speak to me no more of that man, but let me die inpeace!" This put to flight all doubts of the pious, and the certificateof burial was refused. But the prohibition of the Bishop of Troyescame too late. Voltaire was buried at the monastery of Scellieres, inChampagne, of which his nephew was abbot. Afterwards, during the firstFrench Revolution, the body, at the request of the citizens, was removedto Paris, and buried in the Pantheon. Lamartine, in his "History of theGirondists, " p. 149, speaking of the ceremony, says:--

"On the 11th of July, the departmental and municipal authorities wentin state to the barrier of Charenton, to receive the mortal remains ofVoltaire, which were placed on the ancient site of the Bastile, like aconqueror on his trophies; his coffin was exposed to public gaze, and apedestal was formed for it of stones torn from the foundations of thisancient stronghold of tyranny; and thus Voltaire when dead triumphedover those stones which had triumphed over and confined him when living. On one of the blocks was the inscription, '_Receive on this spot, where despotism once fettered thee, the Honors decreed to thee by thycountry_'. .. . The coffin of Voltaire was deposited between those ofDescartes and Mirabeau--the spot predestined for this intermediarygenius between philosophy and policy, between the design and theexecution. "

The aim of Voltaire's life was the destruction of prejudice and theestablishment of Reason. "Deists, " said W. J. Fox in 1819, "have donemuch for toleration and religious liberty. It may be doubted if therebe a country in Europe, where that cause has not been advanced by thewritings of Voltaire. " In the Preface and Conclusion to the "Examinationof the Scriptures, " Voltaire says:--

"The ambition of domineering over the mind, is one of the strongestpassions. A theologian, a missionary, or a partisan of any description, is always for conquering like a prince, and there are many more sectsthan there are sovereigns in the world. To whose guidance shall Isubmit my mind? Must I be a Christian, be-cause I happened to be bornin London, or in Madrid? Must I be a Mussulman, because I was born inTurkey? As it is myself alone that I ought to consult, the choice of areligion is my greatest interest. One man adores God by Mahomet, anotherby the Grand Lama, and another by the Pope. Weak and foolish men! adoreGod by your own reason. .. . I have learnt that a French Vicar, ofthe name of John Meslier, who died a short time since, prayed on hisdeath-bed that God would forgive him for having taught Christianity. Ihave seen a Vicar in Dorsetshire relinquish a living of £200 a year, andconfess to his parishioners that his conscience would not permit him topreach the shocking absurdities of the Christians. But neither the willnor the testament of John Meslier, nor the declaration of this worthyVicar, are what I consider decisive proofs. Uriel Acosta, a Jew, publicly renounced the Old Testament in Amsterdam; however, I pay nomore attention to the Jew Acosta than to Parson Meslier. I will readthe arguments on both sides of the trial, with careful attention, notsuffering the lawyers to tamper with me; but will weigh, before God, the reasons of both parties, and decide according to my conscience. Icommence by being my-own instructor. .. . I conclude, that every sensibleman, every honest man, ought to hold Christianity in abhorrence. 'Thegreat name of Theist, which we can never sufficiently revere, ' is theonly name we ought to adopt. The only gospel we should read is the grandbook of nature, written with God's own hand, and stamped with his ownseal. The only religion we ought to profess is, 'to adore God, and actlike honest men. ' It would be as impossible for this simple and eternalreligion to produce evil, as it would be impossible for Christianfanaticism not to produce it. .. . But what shall we substitute in itsplace? say you. What? A ferocious animal has sucked the blood of myrelatives. I tell you to rid yourselves of this beast, and you ask mewhat you shall put in its place! Is it you that put this question to me?Then you are a hundred times more odious than the Pagan Pontiffs, whopermitted themselves to enjoy tranquillity among their ceremonies andsacrifices, who did not attempt to enslave the mind by dogmas, who neverdisputed the powers of the magistrates, and who introduced no discordamong mankind. You have the face to ask what you must substitute in theplace of your fables!"

As will be seen by his exclamation on his death-bed, Voltaire was nobeliever in the _divinity_ of Christ. He disbelieved the Bible _intoto_. The accounts of the doings of the Jewish kings, as represented inthe Old Testament, he has unsparingly ridiculed in the drama of "Saul. "The quiet irony of the following will be easily appreciated:--

Divinity of Jesus. --The Socinians, who are regarded as blasphemers, donot recognize the divinity of Jesus Christ. They dare to pretend, withthe philosophers of antiquity, with the Jews, the Mahometans, andmost other nations, that the idea of a god-man is monstrous; that thedistance from God to man is infinite; and that it is impossible fora perishable body to be infinite, immense, or eternal. They have theconfidence to quote Eusebius, Bishop of Cæsarea, in their favor, who, in his "Ecclesiastical History, " book i. , chap. 9, declares that it isabsurd to imagine the uncreated and unchangeable nature of Almighty Godtaking the form of a man. They cite the fathers of the church, Justinand Tertullian, who have said the same thing: Justin in his "Dialoguewith Triphonius;" and Tertullian, in his "Discourse against Praxeas. "They quote St. Paul, who never calls Jesus Christ, God, and who callshim man very often. They carry their audacity so far as to affirm, that the Christians passed three entire ages in forming by degrees theapotheosis of Jesus; and that they only raised this astonishing edificeby the example of the Pagans, who had deified mortals. At first, according to them, Jesus was only regarded as a man inspired by God, and then as a creature more perfect than others. They gave him some timeafter, a place above the angels, as St. Paul tells us. Every day addedto his greatness. He in time became an emanation, proceeding from God. This was not enough; he was even born before time. At last he was Godconsubstantial with God. Crellius, Voquelsius, Natalis, Alexander, and Hornbeck, have supported all these blasphemies by arguments, whichastonish the wise and mislead the weak. Above all, Faustus Socinusspread the seeds of this doctrine in Europe; and at the end of thesixteenth century, a new species of Christianity was established. Therewere already more than three hundred. --[Philosophical Dictionary, vol. I. P. 405. ]

Though a firm and consistent believer in the being of a God, Voltairewas no bigot. The calm reasoning of the following passage does honor toits author:--

Faith. --Divine faith, about which so much has been written, is evidentlynothing more than incredulity brought under subjection; for we certainlyhave no other faculty than the understanding by which we can believe;and the objects of faith are not those of the understanding. We canbelieve only what appears to be true; and nothing can appear true but inone of the three following ways--by intuition or feeling, as I exist, I see the sun; or by an accumulation of probability amounting tocertainty, as there is a city called Constantinople; or by positivedemonstration, as triangles of the same base and height are equal. Faith, therefore, being nothing at all of this description, can nomore be a belief, a persuasion, than it can be yellow or red. It can benothing but the annihilation of reason, a silence of adoration at thecontemplation of things absolutely incomprehensible. Thus, speakingphilosophically, no person believes the Trinity; no person believes thatthe same body can be in a thousand places at once; and he who says, Ibelieve these mysteries, will see, beyond the possibility of a doubt, if he reflects for a moment on what passes in his mind, that these wordsmean no more than, I respect thee, mysteries; I submit myself to thosewho announce them. For they agree with me, that my real reason, theirown reason, believe them not; but it is clear if my _reason_ is notpersuaded, I am not persuaded, and my reason cannot possibly be twodifferent beings. It is an absolute contradiction that I should receivethat as true which my understanding rejects as false. Faith, therefore, is nothing but submissive or deferential incredulity. But why shouldthis submission be exercised when my understanding invincibly recoils?The reason, we well know, is, that my understanding has been persuadedthat the mysteries of my faith are laid down by God himself. All, then, that I can do, as a reasonable being, is to be silent and adore. That iswhat divines call external faith; and this faith neither is, nor can be, anything more than respect for things incomprehensible, in consequenceof the reliance I place on those who teach them; If God himself wereto say to me, "Thought is of an olive colour;" "the square of a certainnumber is bitter;" I should certainly understand nothing at all fromthese words. I could not adopt them either as true or false. But I willrepeat them, if he commands me to do it; and I will make others repeatthem at the risk of my life. This is faith; it is nothing more thanobedience. In order to obtain a foundation then for this obedience, it is merely necessary to examine the books which require it. Ourunderstanding, therefore, should investigate the books of the Old andNew Testament, just as it would Plutarch or Livy; and if it finds inthem incontestable and decisive evidences--evidences obvious to allminds, and such as would be admitted by men of all nations--that Godhimself is their author, then it is our incumbent duty to subject ourunderstanding to the yoke of faith. --[Ibid, p. 474. ]

Prayer. --We know of no religion without prayers; even the Jews had them, although there was no public form of prayer among them before the timewhen they sang their canticles in their synagogues, which did not takeplace until a late period. The people of all nations, whether actuatedby desires or fears, have summoned the assistance of the Divinity. Philosophers, however, more respectful to the Supreme Being, and risingmore above human weakness, have been habituated to substitute, forprayer, resignation. This, in fact, is all that appears proper andsuitable between creature and Creator. But philosophy is not adaptedto the great mass of mankind; it soars too highly above the vulgar; itspeaks a language they are unable to comprehend. To propose philosophyto them, would be just as weak as to propose the study of conic sectionsto peasants or fish-women. Among philosophers themselves, I know ofno one besides Maximus Tyrius who has treated of this subject. Thefollowing is the substance of his ideas upon it:--The designs of Godexist from all eternity. If the object prayed for be conformable to hisimmutable will, it must be perfectly useless to request of him the verything which he has determined to do. If he is prayed to for the reverseof what he has determined to do, he is prayed to be weak, fickle, and inconstant; such a prayer implies that this is thought to be hischaracter, and is nothing better than ridicule or mockery of him. Youeither request of him what is just and right, in which case he ought todo it, and it will be actually done without any solicitation, which infact, shows distrust of his rectitude; or what you request is unjust, and then you insult him. You are either worthy or unworthy of the favouryou implore; if worthy, he knows it better than you do yourself; ifunworthy, you commit an additional crime in requesting that which youdo not merit. In a word, we offer up prayers to God only because we havemade him after our own image. We treat him like a pacha, or a sultan, who is capable of being exasperated and appeased. In short, all nationspray to God; the sage is resigned, and obeys him. Let us pray with thepeople, and let us be resigned to him with the sage. We have alreadyspoken of the public prayer of many nations, and of those of theJews. --That people have had one from time immemorial, which deservesall our attention, from its resemblance to the prayer taught us by JesusChrist himself. This Jewish prayer is called the Kadish, and begins withthese words:--"Oh! God! let thy name be magnified and sanctified; makethy kingdom to prevail; let redemption flourish, and the Messiah comequickly!" As this Radish is recited in Chaldee, it has induced thebelief, that it is as ancient as the captivity, and that it was atthat period that the Jews began to hope for a Messiah, a Liberator, or Redeemer, whom they have since prayed for in ihe seasons of theircalamities. --[Ibid, vol. Ii. , p. 350. ]

Voltaire's contempt for the Bible led him to use the language of "holywrit" in the coarsest jokes; though, perhaps, with such material, thejokes could not well be otherwise than _coarse_. The following letterhe addressed to M. Bâillon, Intendant of Lyons, on account of a poor Jewtaken up for uttering contraband goods. This kind of writing obtainedfor Voltaire the title of "scoffer:"--

"Blessings on the Old Testament, which gives me this opportunity oftelling you, that amongst all those who adore the New, there is not onemore devoted to your service than myself, a certain descendant of Jacob, a pedlar, as all these gentlemen are, whilst he is waiting for theMessiah, waits also for your protection, which at present he has themost need of. Some honest men of the first trade of St. Matthew, whogather together the Jews and Christians at the gates of your city, have seized something in the breeches pocket of an Israelitish page, belonging to the poor circumcised, who has the honour to tender you thisbillet, with all proper submission and humility. I beg leave to join myAmen to his at a venture. I but just saw you at Paris as Moses saw theDeity, and should be very happy in seeing you face to face. If the wordface can any ways be applied to me, preserve some remembrance of yourold eternal humble servant, who loves you with that chaste and tenderaffection, which the religious Solomon had for his three hundredShuhamites. "

Voltaire's prodigious wit and sarcasm were so exuberant, that heexpended them upon all people and all subjects--even _himself_, whenoccasion admitted of it, In one of his letters, -addressed to the ElectorPalatine, Sept. 9, 1761, he gives this excuse for not attending at thecourt:--

"I should really make an excellent figure amidst the rejoicings of yourelectoral highness. It was only, I think, in the Egypt of antiquitythat _skeletons_ were admitted to a place in their festivals. To say thetruth, my lord, it is all over with me. I laugh indeed sometimes; but amforced to acknowledge that pain is an evil. It is a comfort to me thatyour highness is well; but I am fitter for an extreme unction than abaptism. May the peace serve for an era to mark the prince's birth; andmay his august father preserve his regard for, and accept the profoundrespects of his little Swiss, Voltaire. "

In politics, Voltaire was not very far advanced. He seems to have had noidea of a nation without a _king_. A monarch who should not commit anyvery flagrant acts of tyranny, was as much as he appeared to desire. Heevidently did not foresee the great revolution that was so soon to burstforth in France, but that he mainly contributed by his writings to bringit about, there can be no doubt. His influence upon the men of histime, both in France and Europe, is ably depicted by such writers asLamartine, Quinet, and Brougham. Voltaire's was the one great mind ofhis day, whose thoughts engrossed the attention of all men. He was greatby his learning, his genius, and his benevolence--and this man was thechampion of Reason, the enemy of superstition, and an "Infidel. " Quinet, in his lectures on the Romish Church, says:--"I watch, for forty years, the reign of one man who is in himself the spiritual director, not ofhis country, but of his age. From the corner of his chamber, he governsthe kingdom of spirits; intellects are every day regulated by his; oneword written by his hand traverses Europe. Princes love, and kings fearhim; they think they are not sure of their kingdom if he be not withthem. Whole nations, on their side, adopt without discussion, andemulously repeat, every syllable that falls from his pen. Who exercisesthis incredible power, which had been nowhere seen since the middleages? Is he another Gregory II. ? Is he a Pope? No--Voltaire. "

We conclude our sketch with the eloquent words of Lamartine, whodescribes, in a few sentences, the inestimable services rendered toFreethought and intellectual progression by the Sage of Ferney:--

"If we judge of men by what they have _done_, then Voltaire isincontestably the greatest writer of modern Europe. No one has caused, through the powerful influence of his genius alone, and the perseveranceof his will, so great a commotion in the minds of men; his pen arouseda world, and has shaken a far mightier empire than that of Charlemagne, the European empire of a theocracy. His genius was not _force_ but_light_. Heaven had destined him not to destroy but to illuminate, andwherever he trod, light followed him, for Reason (which is _light_) haddestined him to be first her poet, then her apostle, and lastly heridol. "

J. W. 

JOHN TOLAND. 

In the Augustan age of Freethought, no British writer achieved morerenown, or performed greater services to Biblical criticism, than JohnToland. His life would fill a volume, while his works would stock alibrary. True to his convictions, he spoke like a man, and died as ahero. His books are strewn with classical illustrations, and deal sowith abstract (and to us) uninteresting arguments, that we shall simplygive a brief sketch of the life of this extraordinary man. He gave histhoughts to the scholars at the same time that Woolston addressed thepeople; conjointly they revolutionized opinion in our favor. 

Toland was born on November 30, 1670, at Londonderry, in Ireland. Itis said his registered name was "James Junius, " another account says"Julius Cæsar;" but we have been unable to find any authentic datefor either supposition, and whatever his name was registered, we haveindisputable evidence that he was always called John Toland. We haveless proof as to his parentage; some writers allege that he was thenatural son of a Catholic priest; while others contend that he was bornof a family once affluent, but at the time of his birth in very reducedcircumstances. Whether this was the case or the reverse, young Tolandreceived a liberal education. He was early taught the classics, studiedin the Glasgow College; and on leaving Glasgow he was presented withletters of credit from the city magistrates, highly flattering to him asa man and a scholar. He received the diploma of A. M. At Edinburgh, theday previous to the Battle of the Boyne. He finished his studies at theUniversity of Leyden. 

The first work of importance which Toland published, was a "Life ofJohn Milton, containing besides the History of his Works, severalextraordinary Characters of Men and Books, Sects, Parties, andOpinions. " This work being violently opposed, was speedily followedby "Amyntor, " or a defence of Milton's life, containing--1. A generalapology for all writings of that kind. 2. A catalogue of books, attributed in the primitive times to Jesus Christ, his apostles, andother eminent persons, with several important remarks relating to thecanon of Scripture. 3. A complete history of the Book, entitled "IconBasilike, proving Dr. Gauden, and not King Charles I. , to be the authorof it, " etc. Those works established the fame of Toland, as well asformed the groundwork for persecution, which hunted him even on hisdeath-bed. In the year 1699 Toland collected, edited, and published, from the original MSS. , the whole of the works of James Harrington, prefixed by a memoir of this extraordinary theorist. In his preface hesays that he composed this work "in his beloved retirement at Cannon, near Bansted, in Surrey. " From this, along with other excerpts scatteredthrough his works, we cannot but infer that at the outset of hiscareer he possessed a moderate competence of worldly wealth and socialposition. He says his idea was "to transmit to posterity the worthymemory of James Harrington, a bright ornament to useful learning, ahearty lover of his native country, and a generous benefactor to thewhole world; a person who obscured the false lustre of our modernpoliticians, and equalled (if not exceeded) all the ancientlegislators. " This to us is an interesting fact, for it shows the earlyunanimity which existed between the earlier reformers in politics andthose of theology. The supervision of the "Oceana" by Toland, bears thesame inferential analogy, as if Mr. Holyoake were the biographer andpublisher of the "New Moral World" and its author. In 1700, he published"Anglia Libera; or, the Limitation and Succession of the Crown ofEngland, explained and Asserted, " etc. This book is concluded by thefollowing apothegm, assuring the people "that no king can ever be sogood as one of their own making, as there is no title equal to theirapprobation, which is the only divine right of all magistracy, for thevoice of the people is the voice of God. " In 1702, Toland spent sometime in Germany, publish-ing a series of Letters to a friend inHolland, entitled "Some Remarks on the King of Prussia's Country, onhis Government, his Court, and his numerous Palaces. " About this timeappeared "The Art of Governing by Parties;" this was always a favoritesubject of the old Freethinkers, and is still further elucidated byBolingbroke. 

In 1707 he published a large treatise in English and Latin, as "APhilippic Oration, to incite the English against the French, " a work Ihave never seen. We now return to an earlier date, and shall trace theuse of his theological works. The first of note (1696) was "Christianitynot Mysterious"--showing that there is nothing in the gospel contraryto reason, nor above it; and that no Christian doctrine can be properlycalled a mystery. As soon as this book was issued from the press, itwas attacked with unmanly virulence. One man (Peter Brown) who was moredisgustingly opposed to Toland than the rest, was made a bishop; and byfar the greatest majority amongst the Anglican clergy, who attacked him, were all rewarded by honors and preferment. The author was accused ofmaking himself a new Heresiarch; that there was a tradition amongstthe Irish that he was to be a second Cromwell, and that Toland himselfboasted that before he was forty years old, he would be governor over agreater country than Cromwell; and that he would be the head over a newreligion before he was thirty. One of his opponents publicly stigmatiseshim as saying that he (Toland) himself designed to be as great animpostor as Mahomet, and more powerful than the Pope; while the Puritansdenounced him as a disguised Jesuit, and the Papists as a rancorousNonconformist. To complete the comedy, the Irish Parliament condemnedhis book to be publicly burnt, some ecclesiastics loudly murmuring that, the author should be burned with it; others, more moderate, were anxiousthat Toland should burn it himself, while at last they came to anunanimous resolution to burn it in front of the threshold of his door, so that when the author appeared, he would be obliged to step oyer theashes of his own book, which was accordingly done amid the brutal cheersof an ignorant and infuriated populace. 

As a proof of the high esteem in which Toland was held by the _few_ ableand liberal men of the day, we extract the following account from thecorrespondence of John Locke and Mr. Molyneux. * The latter gentleman, writing to the former, says:--"I am told the author of 'Christianity notMysterious' is of this country, and that his name is Toland, but he isa stranger in these parts, I believe. If he belongs to this kingdom, he has been a good while out of it, or I have not heard of any such_remarkable_ man amongst us. " In another letter, the same writersays:--"In my last to you, there was a passage, relating to the authorof 'Christianity not Mysterious. ' I did not then think he was so nearme as within the bounds of this city; but I find since that he hascome over hither, and have had the favor of a visit from him. I nowunderstand that he was born in this country, but that he has been agreat while abroad, and his education was for some time under the greatLe Clerc. But that for which I can never honor him too much, is hisacquaintance and friendship to you, and the respect which upon alloccasions he expresses for you. I propose a great deal of satisfactionin his conversation. I take him to be a candid Freethinker, and a goodscholar. But there is a violent sort of spirit which reigns here, whichbegins already to show itself against him, and I believe will increasedaily, for I find the clergy alarmed to a mighty degree against him. And last Sunday he had his welcome to this city, by hearing himselfharangued against out of the pulpit, by a prelate of this country. "

 * Locke's posthumous works. Edited by Die Maizeaus. 

Mr. Locke, in return, says:--"For the man I wish very well, and couldgive you, if it needed, proofs that I do so. And therefore I desire youto be kind to him: but I must leave it to your prudence in what wayand how far. For it will be his fault alone, if he proves not a veryvaluable man, and have not you for his friend. " To this, Mr. Molyneuxwrites to Mr. Locke--"I look upon Mr. Toland as a very ingenuous man, and I should be very glad of any opportunity of doing him service, towhich I think myself indispensably bound by your recommendation. " Soonafter this, Mr. Molyneux describes the treatment Toland underwent inIreland. In another letter to Locke--"He has had his opposers here, as you will find by a book which I have sent to you. The author (PeterBrown) is my acquaintance, but two things I shall never forgive in hisbook: the one is the foul language and opprobrious names he gives Mr. Toland; the other is upon several occasions, calling in the aid of thecivil magistrate, and delivering up Mr. Toland to secular punishment. This, indeed, is a killing argument, but some will be apt to say, thatwhere, the strength of his reason failed him, then he flies to thestrength of his sword; and this reminds me of a business that was verysurprising to many, the presentment of some pernicious books and theirauthors by the grand jury of Middlesex. This is looked upon as a matterof dangerous consequence, to make our civil courts judges of religiousdoctrines; and no one knows upon a change of affairs whose turn itmay be next to be condemned. But the example has been followed in thiscountry, and Mr. Toland and his book have been presented here by a grandjury, not one of whom I am persuaded ever read one leaf in 'Christianitynot Mysterious. '

"Let the Sorbonne forever now be silent; a learned grand jury, directedby as learned a judge, does the business much better. The Dissentershere were the chief promoters of this matter, but, when I asked oneof them 'What if a violent Church of England jury should present Mr. Baxter's books as pernicious, and condemn them to the flames by thecommon executioner, ' he was sensible of the error, and said he wishedit had never been done. " Mr. Locke, in his reply, coincides with hisfriend, and says, "The Dissenters had best _consider_; but they are asort of men which will always be the same. " A remark which 150 years hasnot failed in its truthfulness. Mr. Molyneux concludes his remarks inreference to Toland, as follows:--"Mr. Toland is at length driven outof our kingdom; the poor gentleman at last wanted a meal's meat, andthe universal outcry of the clergy ran so strong against him, that nonedurst admit him to their tables. The little stock of money which he hadwas soon exhausted, he fell to borrowing, and to complete his hardships, the Parliament fell on his book, voted it to be burnt by the commonhangman, and ordered the author to be taken into custody by theSerjeant-at-Arms, and to be prosecuted by the Attorney General. Hereuponhe is fled out of this kingdom, and none here knows where he hasdirected his course. " From this correspondence we glean the followingfacts:--

1. That John Locke and Mr. Molyneux were favorable to Freethought. 

2. That (on Locke's authority) Toland possessed abilities of no commonorder. 

3. That Toland was unjustly persecuted, and he met with the sympathy ofthe Liberals. 

Toland, having received a foretaste of his country's vengeance, retiredfor two years to Germany, where he was welcomed by the first scholars ofthe age. Hearing that the House of Convocation, in London, was about todenounce two of his works as heretical ("Christianity not Mysterious, "and "Amyntor, ") he hastened to England, and published two letters to theProlucutor, which were never laid before Convocation. He insisted thathe should be heard in his own defence before sentence was passed onhis works; but as usual this wish was denied him. A legal difficultyprevented the bishops from prosecuting the works, and Toland gave theworld a full account in his "Vindicius Liberius. "

The "Letters to Serena, " written in a bold, honest, unflinching manner, were the next performances of Toland. The first letter is on "The Originand Force of Prejudices. " It is founded on a reflection of Cicero, thatall prejudices spring from moral, and not physical sources, and whileall admit the power of the senses to be infallible, all strive tocorrupt the judgment, by false metaphor and unjust premises. Tolandtraces the progress of superstition from the hands of a midwife to thoseof a priest, and shows how the nurse, parent, schoolmaster, professor, philosopher, and politician, all combine to warp the mind of man byfallacies from his progress in childhood, at school, at college, andin the world. How the child is blinded with an idea, and the man witha word. The second letter is "A History of the Soul's Immortality Amongthe Heathens. " A lady had been reading Platers "Phædo, " and remarkedas to how Cato could derive any consolation from the slippery and vaguesuppositions of that verbiant dialogue. Toland, therefore, for heredification, drew up a list of the specifications of the ancients on thesubject, analysing (in its progress) the varying phases of the fables ofthe Elysian fields, the Charons, the Styx, etc. , deriving them all fromthe ancient Egyptians. Toland thought the idea had arisen among thepeople, like our witches, ghosts, and fairy stories, and subsequentlydefended by the philosophers, who sought to rule their passions byfinding arguments for their superstitions, and thus the rise of theirexoteric and esoteric doctrines were the first foundations of the beliefin the immortality of the soul. The third letter is on "The Origin ofIdolatry, " or, as it might rather be called, a history of the folliesof mankind. He traces the causes, the origin, and the science ofsuperstition--its phenomena and its devotees, proving that all thesacrifices, prayers, and customs of idolatry are the same in all ages, they only differ in language and adaptability of climate, and that withthe fall of judicial astrology, idolatry received its greatest blow, for while men thought that priests could control destiny, they fearedthem--but this idea destroyed, it removed the terror which so longhad existed as an immediate object betwixt the man and this sacerdotaltyrant. 

In letter fourth, addressed "To a Gentleman in Holland, showingSpinoza's System of Philosophy to be without any principle orfoundation, " and in the concluding article, Toland argues that "motionis essential to matter, in answer to some remarks by a noble friendon the above. " In the fifteenth section of this argument, Toland thusrebuts the allegation that were motion indissolubly connected withmatter, there must be extension without surface for motion or matterto exert their respective powers upon. It is often used as an argument, that if a vase was filled with any commodity to the utmost extent, wherewould be the space for motion? We know that in a kettle of water, ifthere is no outlet for the steam (which is the motion of the water, )the kettle will burst. Toland says, "'You own most bodies are in actualmotion, which can be no argument that they have been always so, or thatthere are not others in actual repose. ' I grant that such a consequencedoes not necessarily follow, though the thing may itself be true. But, however, it may not be amiss to consider how far this actual motionreaches, and is allowed, before we come to treat of rest. Though thematter of the universe be everywhere the same, yet according to itsvarious modifications it is conceived to be divided into numberlessparticular systems, vortices or whirlpools of matter; and these againare subdivided into other systems greater or less, which depend oh oneanother, as every one on the whole, in their centres, textures, frame, and coherence. Our sun is the centre of one of the larger systems, whichcontains a great many small ones within the sphere of its activity, as all the planets which move about it; and these are subdivided intolesser systems that depend on them, as his satelites wait uponJupiter, and the moon on the earth; the earth again is divided into theatmosphere, ground, water, and other principal parts; these again intothe vegetable, animal, and mineral kingdoms. Now, as all these dependin a link on one another, so their matter is mutually resolved into eachother, for earth, air, fire, and water are not only closely blendedand united, but likewise interchangeable, transformed in a perpetualrevolution: earth becoming water, water air, air ether, and so backagain in mixtures without end or number. The animals we destroycontribute to preserve us, till we are destroyed to preserve otherthings, and become parts of grass, or plants, or water, or air, orsomething else that helps to make other animals, and they one another, or other men, and these again into stone, or wood, or metals, orminerals, or animals again, or become parts of all these and of a greatmany other things, animals, or vegetables, daily consuming and devouringeach other--so true it is that everything lives by the destruction ofanother. All the parts of the universe are in this constant motion ofdestroying and begetting, of begetting and destroying, and the greatersystems are acknowledged to have their ceaseless movements as wellas the smallest particles, the very central globes of the vorticesrevolving on their own axis, and every particle in the vortexgravitating towards the centre. Our bodies, however we may flatterourselves, do not differ from those of other creatures, but like themreceive increase or diminution by nutrition or evacuation, by accretion, transpiration, and other ways, giving some parts of ours to otherbodies, and receiving again of theirs, not altogether the same yesterdayas to-day, nor to continue the same to-morrow, being alive in aperpetual flux like a river, and in the total dissolution of our systemat death to become parts of a thousand other things at once, our bodiespartly mixing with the dust and the water of the earth, partly exhaledand evaporated into the air, flying to so many different places, mixingand incorporating with numerous things. 

"No parts of matter are bound to any one figure or form, losing andchanging their figures and forms continually, that is being in perpetualmotion, dipt, or worn, or ground to pieces, or dissolved by other parts, acquiring their figures, and these theirs, and so on incessantly: earth, air, fire, and water, iron, wood, and marble, plants and animals, beingrarefied, condensed, liquified, congealed, dissolved, coagulated, orany other way resolved into one another. The whole face of the earthexhibits those mutations every moment to our eyes, nothing continuingone hour numerically the same; and these changes being but several kindsof motion, are therefore the incontestable effects of universal action. But the changes in the parts make no change in the universe; for it ismanifest that the continual alterations, successions, revolutions, andtransmutations of matter, cause no accession or diminution therein, nomore than any letter is added or lost in the alphabet by the endlesscombinations and transpositions thereof into so many different words andlanguages, for a thing no sooner quits one form than it puts on another, leaving as it were the theatre in a certain dress, and appearing againin a new one, which produces a perpetual youthfulness and vigor, withoutany decay or decrepitness of the world, as some have falsely imagined, contrary to reason and experience; the world, with all the parts andkinds thereof, continuing at all times in the same condition. "

*****

"But the species still continue by propagation, notwithstanding the decayof the individuals, and the death of our bodies is but matter goingto be dressed in some new form; the impressions may vary, but the waxcontinues still the same, and indeed death is in effect the very samethins with our birth; for as to die is only to cease to be what weformerly were, so to be born is to begin to be something which we werenot before. Considering the numberless successive generations that haveinhabited this globe, returning at death into the common mass ofthe same, mixing with all the other parts thereof, and to this, theincessant river-like flowing and transpiration of matter everymoment from the bodies of men while they live, as well as their dailynourishment, inspiration of air, and other additions of matter to theirbulk; it seems probable that there is no particle of matter on the wholeearth which has not been a part of man. Nor is this reasoning confinedto our own species, but remains as true of every order of animals orplants, or any other beings, since they have been all resolved into oneanother by ceaseless revolutions, so that nothing is more certain thanthat every material Thing is all Things, and that all Things are butmanifestations of one. "

In his reply to Wotton, who attacks those "Letters to Serena, " Tolandsays they were addressed "to a lady, the most accomplished then in theworld. " The name of the lady will probably, remain forever a mystery. 

In 1718, he published the celebrated work "Nazarenus, or Jewish, Gentile, and Mahometan Christianity, " which caused an immense sensationat the time it appeared, and led to his "Mangonentes" (1720, ) a worksingularly profound and effective. In the same year he gave the world"Tetradymus, " containing "Hodegus, or the Pillar of Cloud and Fire, "that guided the Israelites in the Wilderness, _not miraculous_, but athing equally practiced by other nations; and "Clidophorus, or ofthe Exoteric and Esoteric Philosophy;" and "Hypatia. " There is a longpreface to those books, "from under an elm in Bensbury (or Chebem'scamp, ) on the 'warren at the south end of Wimbledon Common (1720. ")About this time "Pantheisticon" appeared, written as a caricatureon Church Liturgies, which Archdeacon Hare denounced as "downrightAtheism. "

Along with the above, Toland wrote a multitude of small pamphlets; hetranslated the fables of Æsop, and published a poem, entitled "Clito, "which caused much excitement at the time; and, as it representedToland's ideal character, we reprinted it in the London Investigator. His earlier political works were esteemed so valuable in the defence ofthe Protestant succession, and advancing the interests of the Elector, subsequently King of England, that in one of his visits paid to thatCourt, he was presented by the Electress with miniature portraits ofherself and family. 

The following is a catalogue of the works of Toland, which have neveryet been published, and the works in which they are mentioned:--

1. The History of Socrates (in the Life of Harrington. )

2. Systems of Divinity Exploded. An Epistolary Dissertation. (Christianity not Mysterious. )

3. The History of the Canon of the New Testament. (Nazarenus. )

4. Repubiica Mosaica. (Nazarenus. )

5. A Treatise Concerning Tradition. (Tetradymus. )

There were several other works, part of them written, which passed intothe hands of Lord Molesworth (we believe, ) part of which were published(the "History of the Druid" and also "Giordano Bruno;") but whetherthey exist at the present time or not, we are unable to say. 

There is also great difficulty in deciding as to the manner of Toland'slife; of this, however, we are certain, that he caused great oppositionin his own day, and he was patronised by able man. He edited an editionof Lord Shaftesbury's Letters, and published a work of that noble Lord'ssurreptitiously; he mingled amongst the German Courts, and appearedon terms of equality with the _elite_ of the philosophers and thearistocracy. The brief memoir prefaced to one of his works is anepistolary document addressed to a noble Lord. His acquaintance withLocke, Shaftesbury, Collins, Molesworth, and Molyneux, must haveproceed-. Ed from other causes than his genius, or why was Tolandexalted when Mandeville, Chubb, and the brave Woolston are never so muchas alluded to? We consider that there is a strong probability thathe was wealthy--or at least possessed of a moderate competence. Hisabilities were of a curious order. He seemed to be one of a school whichrose about his time to advocate Freethought, but shackled by adogma. His collegiate education gave him an early liking for the deadlanguages, and he carried out the notion of the ancients, that theexoteric or esoteric methods were still in force. From a carefulperusal of the works of the "Fathers, " and the contemporary books of theheathens, he fancied that all the superstitions in the world differedbut in degree--that religion was but the organic cause of superstition, the arguments made for it by the philosophers to propitiate the vulgar. This idea (in the main) was agreed to by Woolston, although his violent"Discourses, " which were addressed to the unlearned, contained withinthem the germ of their intrinsic popularity. Yet even Woolston's works, notwithstanding their bluff exterior, had something more within themthan what the people could appreciate, or even the present race ofFreethinkers can always understand; for underneath that unrivalledvein of sarcasm, there was in every instance an esoteric view, whichcomprehended the meaning by which the earlier Christians understoodthe gospels, and rendered them on the same scale as the works of theancients. The renowned William Whiston was another who interpretedScripture in a similar manner. All those writers would have beenSwedenborgians if there had been no Freethought, while Whiston wouldhave been an Atheist had there been no representative of that school. We do not consider Toland, then, as an absolute Deist. At that time theage was not so far progressed as to admit a Biblical scholar intothe extreme advanced list; and when a man has spent the whole of hischildhood in a sectarian family, and his youth and early manhood ina University, it is an impossibility to throw off at one struggle thewhole of his past ideas; he may be unfettered in thought, and valiant inspeech, still there is the encyclopædia of years hanging upon him asa drag to that extreme development which he wishes, but cannot bring hispassions to follow. Not that we would by any means observe that Tolandwas comparatively behind his age, but that even in his more daring workshe still had a vague idea of Scripture being partly inspired, althoughoverlaid with a mass of ecclesiastical verbiage. 

It also seems a mystery how the works of Woolston could be condemned, his person seized, while in the case of Toland we hear of nothingbut his works being burnt. Why was Convocation so idle? Why make idlethreats, and let their victim ramble at large! Was it because the onehad powerful friends and the other had none? or was it that inthe earlier portion of the career of Toland, the invisible hand ofBolingbroke stayed the grasp of persecution? Or was Shaftesbury's memoryso esteemed, that hid friend was untouched! Those particulars we cannotlearn, but they will take rank with other parallel cases, as when thesame government prosecuted Paine, and gave Gibbon a sinecure, or nearerour own times when a series of men were imprisoned for Atheism, and SirWilliam Moles worth published similar sentiments without hindrance. 

In the "History of the Soul's Immortality, " Toland thus givesthe explanation respecting the exoteric and esoteric doctrines ofPythagoras:--"Pythagoras himself did not believe the transmigrationwhich has made his name so famous to posterity; for in the internal orsecret doctrine he meant no more than the eternal revolution of formsin matter, those ceaseless vicissitudes and alterations which turneverything into all things, and all things into anything; as vegetablesand animals become part of us, we become part of them, and both becomeparts of a thousand other things in the universe, each turning intowater, water into air, etc. , and so back again in mixtures without endor number. But in the external or popular doctrine he imposed on themob by an equivocal expression that they should become various kindsof beasts after death, thereby to deter them the more effectuallyfrom wickedness. .. . Though the poets embellished their pieces with theopinion of the soul's immortality, yet a great number of them utterlyrejected it for Seneca was not single in saying:--

 'Naught's after death, and death itself is naught, Of a quick race, only the utmost goal; Then may the saints lose all their hope of heaven, And sinners quit their racky fears of hell. '"

We now dismiss John Toland from our view. He was one of the most honest, brave, truthful, and scholastic of the old Deists. His memory will beborne on the wings of centuries, and if ever a true millennium doesarise, the name of this sterling Freethinker will occupy one of thebrightest niches in its Pantheon of Worthies. 

A. C. 

COMPTE DE VOLNEY. 

Constantine Francis Chasshboeuf, de Volney, was born on February 3rd, 1757, at Craon, in Anjou. His father, a distinguished advocate, notwishing his son to bear the name of _Chasseboeuf_, resolved that heshould assume that of _Boisgirais_. With this name Constantine Franciswas first known in the world, studying at the College of Ancenis andAngers. He afterwards commenced his Oriental travels, changing his nameto Volney. 

At the age of seventeen, finding himself his own master, and possessedof £50 a-year, inherited from his mother, he went to Paris, in orderto study the sciences, preferring the study of medicine and physiology, although giving great attention to history and the ancient languages. On inheriting a legacy of £240, he visited Egypt and Syria, starting onfoot, a knapsack on his back, a gun on his shoulder, and his £240, ingold, concealed in a belt. When he arrived in Egypt, he shut himself upfor eight months in a Coptic monastery, in order to learn Arabic; afterwhich he commenced his travels through Egypt and Syria, returning toFrance after an absence of four years, and publishing his "Voyage enEgypte et en Syrie, " which was acknowledged by the French army, on theirconquering Egypt, to be the only book "that had never deceived them. "The French Government named him Director of Commerce and Agriculture inCorsica, but being elected a deputy of the tiers-etat of the Senechausseof Anjou, he resigned the government appointment, holding the maxim, that a national deputy ought not in any way to be a pensioner. Heopposed all secret deliberations, and wished to admit the constituentsand the citizens. He was made secretary on the 23rd of November, 1790, and in the debates, which arose upon the power of the king to determinepeace and war, Volney proposed and carried the resolution that "TheFrench nation renounces from this moment the undertaking any war tendingto increase their territory. " In 1792, he accompanied Pozzo di Borgoto Corsica, in compliance with invitations from many influentialinhabitants, who sought his information. In Corsica he became acquaintedwith Napoleon Buonaparte, who was then an artillery officer; and someyears after, hearing that Buonaparte had obtained the command of thearmy of Italy, Volney exclaimed, "If circumstances favor him, we shallsee the head of a Cæesar upon the shoulders of an Alexander. " WhenVolney returned to Paris, he published an "Account of the State ofCorsica. " He was afterwards appointed Professor of History, attractinglarge audiences; but the Normal School being suppressed, he embarked forthe United States of America, in 1795. He was received by Washington, who bestowed publicly on him marks of honor and friendship. In 1798, Volney returned to France, and gave up to his mother-in-law the propertywhich he was entitled to from the death of his father, which hadjust occurred. During his absence, he had been chosen a member of theInstitute. Buonaparte also, on Volney's return, tried to win his esteemand assistance, soliciting him as colleague in the consulship. Buthe refused the co-operation, as also the office of Minister of theInterior. 

Seldom do men find so many inducements to "accept office" as was offeredto Volney; and seldom do men appear who are disinterested enough toreject the inducements then held out to him. Although he refused to work_with_ the ruling powers of that day, he ever ceased to work _for_ the_people!_ He occupied himself till the last year of his life in givingto the world that literature which will never be forgotten. 

It would be impossible to notice all the works written by such anindefatigable thinker as the "_heretic_" of our sketch. We ought tomention, however, that subsequently to his being made Peer of France, by Louis XVIII. ; and when there existed an intention of crowningLouis, Volney published "The History of Samuel, the inventor of RoyalCoronations. " This book represents Samuel as an impostor, Saul as theblind instrument of sacerdotal cunning, and David as an ambitious youth. In September, 1791, Volney presented to the Assembly "The Ruins, or Meditations on the Revolutions of Empires, " a book which willimmortalize him in the memory of Freethinkers. The originality of style, and the eloquence of expression, cannot fail to interest all who readit. We give the following extracts, from the above work, but as itcontains so much that ought to be read, we must return to the subject inanother number:--

"Legislators, friends of evidence and of truth!

"That the subject of which we treat should be involved in so manyclouds, is by no means astonishing, since, beside the difficultiesthat are peculiar to it, thought itself has, till this moment, ever hadshackles imposed upon it, and free inquiry, by the intolerance ofevery religious system, been interdicted. But now that thought isunrestrained, and may develope all its powers, we will expose in theface of day, and submit to the common judgment of assembled nations, such rational truths as unprejudiced minds have by long and laboriousstudy discovered: and this, not with the design of imposing them as acreed, but from a desire of provoking new lights, and obtaining betterinformation. 

"Chiefs and instructors of the people! you are not ignorant of theprofound obscurity in which the nature, origin, and history of thedogmas you teach are enveloped. Imposed by force and authority, inculcated by education, maintained by the influence of example, theywere perpetuated from age to age, and habit and inattention strengthenedtheir empire. But if man, enlightened by experience and reflection, summon to the bar of mature examination the prejudices of his infancy, he presently discovers a multitude of incongruities and contradictions, which awaken his sagacity, and call forth the exertion of his reasoningpowers. 

"At first, remarking the various and opposite creeds into which nationsare divided, we are led boldly to reject the infallibility claimedby each; and arming ourselves alternately with their reciprocalpretensions, to conceive that the senses and the understanding, emanating directly from God, are a law not less sacred, and a guide notless sure, than the indirect and contradictory codes of the prophets. 

"If we proceed to examine the texture of the codes themselves, we shallobserve that their pretended divine laws, that is to say, laws immutableand eternal, have risen from the complexion of times, of places, andof persons; that these codes issue one from another in a kind ofgenealogical order, mutually borrowing a common and similar fund ofideas, which _every_ institutor modifies agreeably to his fancy. 

"If we ascend to the source of those ideas, we shall find that it islost in the night of time, in the infancy of nations, in the very originof the world, to which they claim alliance: and there, immersed inthe obscurity of chaos, and the fabulous empire of tradition, they areattended with so many prodigies as to be seemingly inaccessible to thehuman understanding. But this prodigious state of things gives birth toa ray of reasoning, that resolves the difficulty; for if the miraclesheld out in systems of religion have actually existed; if, for instance, metamorphoses, apparitions and the conversations of one or more Gods, recorded in the sacred books of the Hindoos, the Hebrews, and theParses, are indeed events in real history, it follows that nature inthose times was perfectly unlike the nature that we are acquainted withnow; that men of the present age are totally different from the men thatformerly existed; but, consequently, that we ought not to trouble ourheads about them. 

"On the contrary, if those miraculous facts have had no real existencein the physical order of things, they must be regarded solely asproductions of the human intellect: and the nature of man, at thisday, capable of making the most fantastic combinations, explains thephenomenon of those monsters in history. The only difficulty is toascertain how and for what purpose the imagination invented them. If weexamine with attention the subjects that are exhibited by them, ifwe analyze the ideas which they combine and associate, and weigh withaccuracy all their concomitant circumstances, we shall find a solutionperfectly conformable to the laws of nature. Those fabulous stories havea figurative sense different from their apparent one; they are foundedon simple and physical facts; but these facts being ill-conceived anderroneously represented, have been disfigured and changed from theiroriginal nature by accidental causes dependent on the human mind, by theconfusion of signs made use of in the representation of objects, by theequivocation of words, the defect of language, and the imperfection ofwriting. These Gods, for example, who act such singular parts in everysystem, are no other than the physical powers of nature, the elements, the winds, the meteors, the stars, all which have been personified bythe necessary mechanism of language, and the manner in which objectsare conceived by the understanding. Their life, their manners, theiractions, are only the operation of the same powers, and the whole oftheir pretended history no more than a description of their variousphenomena, traced by the first naturalist that observed them, but takenin a contrary sense by the vulgar, who did not understand it, or bysucceeding generations, who forgot it. In a word, all the theologicaldogmas respecting the origin of the world, the nature of God, therevelation of his laws, the manifestation of his person, are butrecitals of astronomical facts, figurative and emblematical narrativesof the motion and influence of the heavenly bodies. The very ideaitself of the divinity, which is at present so obscure, abstracted, andmetaphysical, was in its origin merely a composite of the powers of thematerial universe, considered sometimes analytically, as they appearin their agents and their phenomena, and sometimes synthetically, asforming one whole, and exhibiting an harmonious revelation in all itsparts. Thus the name of God has been bestowed sometimes upon the wind, upon fire, water, and the elements; sometimes upon the sun, the stars, the planets, and their influences; sometimes upon the universe at large, and the matter of which the world is composed; sometimes upon abstractand metaphysical properties, such as space, duration, motion, andintelligence; but in every instance, the idea of a Deity has not flowedfrom the miraculous revelation of an invisible world, but has beenthe natural result of human reflection, has followed the progress andundergone the changes of the successive improvement of intellect, andhas had for its subject the visible universe and its different agents. 

"It is then in vain that nations refer the origin of their religionto heavenly inspiration; it is in vain that they pretend to describe asupernatural state of things as first in order of events; the originalbarbarous state of mankind, attested by their own monuments, belies alltheir assertions. These assertions are still more victoriously refutedby considering this great principle, _that man receives no ideas butthrough the medium of his senses_: for from hence it appears that everysystem which ascribes human wisdom to any other source than experienceand sensation, includes in it a ysteron vroteron, and represents thelast results of understanding as earliest in the order of time. Ifwe examine the different religious systems which have been formedrespecting the actions of the Gods, and the origin of the world, weshall discover at every turn an anticipation in the order of narratingthings, which could only be suggested by subsequent reflection. Reason, then, emboldened by these contradictions, hesitates not to rejectwhatever does not accord with the nature of things, and accepts nothingfor historical truth that is not capable of being established byargument and ratiocination. Its ideas and suggestions are as follows:--

"Before any nation received from a neighbor nation dogmas alreadyinvented; before one generation inherited the ideas of another, none ofthese complicated systems had existence. The first men, the children ofnature, whose consciousness was anterior to experience, and who broughtno preconceived knowledge into the world with them, were born withoutany idea of those articles of faith which are the result of learnedcontention; of those religious rites which bad relation to arts andpractices not yet in existence; of those precepts which suppose thepassions already developed; of those laws which have reference to alanguage and a social order hereafter to be produced; of that God, whoseattributes are abstractions of the knowledge of nature, and the idea ofwhose conduct is suggested by the experience of a despotic government;in fine, of that soul and those spiritual existences which are said notto be the object of the senses, but which, however, we must forever haveremained unacquainted with, if our senses had not introduced them tous. Previously to arriving at these notions, an immense catalogue ofexisting facts must have been observed. Man, originally savage, musthave learned from repeated trials the use of his organs. Successivegenerations must have invented and refined upon the means ofsubsistence; and the understanding, at liberty to disengage itself fromthe wants of nature, must have risen to the complicated art of comparingideas, digesting reasonings, and seizing upon abstract similitudes. 

"It was not till after having surmounted those obstacles, and run a longcareer in the night of history, that man, reflecting on his state, beganto perceive his subjection to forces superior to his own and independentof his will. The sun gave him light and warmth; fire burned, thunderterrified, the winds buffeted, water overwhelmed him; all the variousnatural existences acted upon him in a manner not to be resisted. For along time an automaton, he remained passive, without inquiring into thecause of this action; but the very moment he was desirous of accountingto himself for it, astonishment seized his mind; and passing from thesurprise of a first thought to the reverie of curiosity, he formed achain of reasoning. 

"At first, considering only the action of the elements upon him, heinferred relatively to himself, an idea of weakness, of subjection, andrelatively to them, an idea of power, of domination; and this ideawas the primitive and fundamental type of all his conceptions of thedivinity. 

"The action of the natural existences, in the second place, excited inhim sensations of pleasure or pain, of good or evil; by virtue of hisorganization, he conceived love or aversion for them, he desired ordreaded their presence: and fear or hope was the principle of every ideaof religion. 

"Afterwards, judging everything by comparison, and remarking in thosebeings a motion spontaneous like his own, he supposed there to be awill, an intelligence inherent in that motion, of a nature similar towhat existed in himself; and hence, by way of inference, he starteda fresh argument. Having experienced that certain modes of behaviortowards his fellow-creatures wrought a change in their affections andgoverned their conduct, he applied those practices to the powerfulbeings of the universe. 'When my fellow-creature of superior strength, 'said he to himself, 'is disposed to injure me, I humble myself beforehim, and my prayer has the art of appeasing him. I will pray to thepowerful beings that strike me. I will supplicate the faculties of theplanets, the waters, and they will hear me. I will conjure them toavert the calamities, and to grant me the blessings which are aft theirdisposal. My tears will move, my offerings propitiate them, and I shallenjoy complete felicity. '

"And, simple in the infancy of his reason, man spoke to the sun andthe moon; he animated with his understanding and his passions the greatagents of nature; he thought by vain sounds and useless practices tochange their inflexible laws. Fatal error! He desired that the watershould ascend, the mountains be removed, the stone mount in the air;and substituting a fantastic to a real world, he constituted for himselfbeings of opinion, to the terror of his mind and the torment of hisrace. 

"Thus the ideas of God and religion sprung, like all others, fromphysical objects, and were in the understanding of man, the productsof his sensations, his wants, the circumstances of his life, and theprogressive state of his knowledge. 

"As these ideas had natural beings for their first models, it resultedfrom hence that the divinity was originally as various and manifoldas the forms under which he seemed to act: each being was a power, agenius, and the first men found the universe crowded with innumerableGods. 

"In like manner the ideas of the divinity having bad for motors theaffections of the human heart, they underwent an order of divisioncalculated from the sensations of pair: and pleasure, of love andhatred: the powers of nature, the Gods, the genii, were classed intobenign and maleficent, into good and evil ones: and this constitutes theuniversality of these two ideas in every system of religion. 

"These ideas, analogous to the condition of their inventors, were fora long time confused and cross. Wandering in woods, beset with wants, destitute of resources, men in their savage state had no leisure to makecomparisons and draw conclusions. Suffering more ills than they tastedenjoyments, their most habitual sentiment was fear, their theologyterror, their worship was confined to certain modes of salutation, of offerings which they presented to beings whom they supposed to beferocious and greedy like themselves. In their state of equality andindependence, no one took upon him the office of mediator with Godsas insubordinate and poor as himself. No one having any superfluityto dispose of, there existed no parasite under the name of priest, nortribute under the name of victim, nor empire under the name ofaltar; their dogmas and morality, jumbled together, were onlyself-preservation; and their religion, an arbitrary idea withoutinfluence on the mutual relations existing between men, was but a vainhomage paid to the visible powers of nature. 

"Such was the first and necessary origin of every idea of thedivinity. .. . "

"In reality, when the vulgar heard others talk of a new heaven andanother world, they gave a body to these fictions; they erected on ita solid stage and real scenes; and their notions of geography andastronomy served to strengthen, if they did not give rise to the delusion. 

"On the one hand, the Phoenician navigators, those who passed thepillars of Hercules to fetch the pewter of Thule and the amber of theBaltic, related that at the extremity of the world, the boundaries ofthe ocean (the Mediterranean, ) where the sun sets to the countries ofAsia, there were Fortunate Islands, the abode of an everlasting spring;and at a farther distance, hyperborean regions, placed under the earth(relatively to the tropics, ) where reigned an eternal night. Fromthose stories, badly understood, and no doubt confusedly related, theimagination of the people composed the Elysian Fields, delightful spotsin a world below, having their heaven, their sun, and their stars; andTartarus, a place of darkness, humidity, mire, and chilling frost. Now, inasmuch as mankind, inquisitive about all that of which they areignorant, and desirous of a protracted existence, had already exertedtheir faculties respecting what was to become of them after death;inasmuch, as they had early reasoned upon that principle of life whichanimates the body, and which quits it without changing the form of thebody, and had conceived to themselves airy substances, phantomsand shades, they loved to believe that they should resume in thesubterranean world that life which it was so painful to lose; and thisabode appeared commodious for the reception of those beloved objectswhich they could not prevail on themselves to renounce. 

"On the other hand, the astrological and philosophical priests told suchstories of their heavens as perfectly quadrated with these fictions. Having, in their metaphorical language, denominated the equinoxes andsolstices the gates of heaven, or the entrance of the seasons, theyexplained the terrestrial phenomena by saying, that through the gate ofhorn (first the bull, afterwards the ram, ) vivifying fires descended, which, in spring, gave life to vegetation, and aquatic spirits, whichcaused, at the solstice, the overflowing of the Nile: that through thegate of ivory (originally the bowman, or Sagittarius, then the balance, )and through that of Capricorn, or the urn, the emanations or influencesof the heavens returned to their source and re-ascended to their origin;and the Milky Way which passed through the doors of the solstices, seemed to them to have been placed there on purpose to be their roadand vehicle. The celestial scene farther presented, according to theirAtlas, a river (the Nile, designated by the windings of the Hydra;)together with a barge (the vessel Argo, ) and the dog Sirius, bothbearing relation to that river, of which they foreboded the overflowing. These circumstances, added to the preceding ones, increased theprobability of the fiction; and thus to arrive at Tartarus or Elysium, souls were obliged to cross the rivers Styx and Acheron, in the boat ofCharon the ferryman, and to pass through the doors of horn and ivory, which were guarded by the mastiff Cerberus. At length a civil usage wasjoined to all these inventions, and gave them consistency. 

"The inhabitants of Egypt having remarked that the putrefaction of deadbodies became in their burning climate the source of pestilence anddiseases, the custom was introduced in a great number of States, ofburying the dead at a distance from the inhabited districts, in thedesert which lies at the West. To arrive there it was necessary to crossthe canals of the river in a boat, and to pay a toll to the ferryman, otherwise the body remaining unburied, would have been left a preyto wild beasts. This custom suggested to her civil and religiouslegislators, a powerful means of affecting the manners of herinhabitants, and addressing savage and uncultivated men with the motivesof filial piety and reverence for the dead; they introduced, as anecessary condition, the undergoing that previous trial which shoulddecide whether the deceased deserved to be admitted upon the footing ofhis family honors into the _black city_. Such an idea too well accordedwith the rest of the business not to be incorporated with it; itaccordingly entered for an article into religious creeds, and hel hadits Minos and its Radamanthus, with the wand, the chair, the guards, andthe urn, after the exact model of this civil transaction. The divinitythen, for the first time, became a subject of moral and politicalconsideration, a legislator, by so much the more formidable as, while his judgment was final and his decrees without appeal, he wasunapproachable to his subjects. This mythological and fabulous creation, composed as it was of scattered and discordant parts, then became asource of future punishments and rewards, in which divine justice wassupposed to correct the vices and errors of this transitory state. Aspiritual and mystical system, such as have mentioned, acquired somuch the more credit as it applied itself to the mind by every argumentsuited to it. The oppressed looked thither for an indemnification, andentertained the consoling hope of vengeance; the oppressor expected bythe costliness of his offerings to secure to himself impunity, andat the same time employed this principle to inspire the vulgar withtimidity; kings and priests, the heads of the people, saw in it anew source of power, as they reserved to themselves the privilege ofawarding the favors or the censure of the great Judge of all, accord-ingto the opinion they, should inculcate of the odiousness of crimes andthe meritoriousness of virtue. 

"Thus, then, an invisible and imaginary world entered into competitionwith that which was real. Such, O Persians! was the origin of yourrenovated earth, your city of resurrection, placed under the equator, and distinguished from all other cities by this singular attribute, that the bodies of its inhabitants cast no shade. Such, O Jews andChristians! disciples of the Persians, was the source of your NewJerusalem, your paradise and your heaven, modelled upon the astrologicalheaven of Hermes. Meanwhile your hell, O ye Musselmans! a subterraneouspit surmounted by a bridge, your balance of souls and good works, your judgment pronounced by the angels Monkir and Nekir, derives itsattributes from the mysterious ceremonies of the cave of Mithra; andyour heaven is exactly coincident with that of Osiris, Ormuzd, andBrama. ". .. . 

"It is evident, that it is not truth for which you contend; that it isnot her cause you are jealous of maintaining, but the cause of your ownpassions and prejudices; that it is not the object as it really existsthat you wish to verify, but the object as it appears to you; that it isnot the evidence of the thing that you are anxious should prevail, butyour personal opinion, your mode of seeing and judging. There is a powerthat you want to exercise, an interest that you want to maintain, aprerogative that you want to assume: in short, the whole is a struggleof vanity. And as every individual, when he compares himself with everyother, finds himself to be his equal and fellow, he resists by a similarfeeling of right; and from this right, which you all deny to eachother, and from the inherent consciousness of your equality, spring yourdisputes, your combats, and your intolerance. 

"Now the only way of restoring unanimity is by returning to nature, andtaking the order of things which she has established for your directorand guide, and this farther truth will then appear from your uniformityof sentiment. 

"If we would arrive at uniformity of opinion, we must previouslyestablish certainty, and verify the resemblance which our ideas haveto their models. Now, this can nut be obtained, except so far as theobjects of our inquiry can be referred to the testimony, and subjectedto the examination of our senses. Whatever cannot be brought to this, trial is beyond the limits of our understanding: we have neither rule totry it by, nor measure by which to institute a comparison, nor source ofdemonstration and knowledge concerning it. 

"Whence it is obvious that, in order to live in peace and harmony, we must consent not to pronounce upon such objects, nor annex to themimportance; we must draw a line of demarcation between such as can beverified and such as cannot, and separate, by an inviolable barrier, theworld of fantastic beings from the world of realities: that is to say, all civil effect must be taken away from theological and religiousopinions. 

"This, O nations! is the end that a great people, freed from theirfetters and prejudices, have proposed to themselves; this is the workin which, by their command, and under their immediate auspices, we wereengaged, when your kings and your priests came to interrupt ourlabors. .. . Kings and priests! you may yet for awhile suspend the solemnpublication of the laws of nature; but it is no longer in your power toannihilate or to subvert them. "

We conclude with the following:--"Investigate the laws which nature, for our direction, has implanted in our breasts, and form from thencean authentic and immutable code. Nor let this code be calculated for onefamily, or one nation only, but for the whole with-out exception. Bethe legislators of the human race, as ye are the interpreters of theircommon nature. Show us the line that separates the world of chimerasfrom that of realities: and each us, after so many religions of errorand delusion, the religion of evidence and truth. "

Our space prohibits further quotation in this number; but when we returnto the subject, we shall notice chapter xxi. , "Problem of ReligiousContradictions, " and also "The Law of Nature; or Principles ofMorality. " Few men wrote more on various topics than Volney; and fewhave been more respected while living, and esteemed when dead, by thosewhose respect and esteem it is always an honor to possess. At the ageof fifty-three, after much travel and great study, Volney consoled hislatter days by marrying his cousin--the hope of his youth--Mdlle. DeChassebouf. A disorder of the bladder, contracted when traversing theArabian deserts, caused his death at the age of sixty-three. He wasburied in the cemetery of Pere Lachaise, when Laya, Director of theFrench Academy, pronounced a noble panegyric over his grave; and monthsafter his death he was spoken highly of by some of the most illustriousmen of France. Thus ended the days of one of the Freethinkers of thepast whose works, despite all suppression, will never die. 

J. W. 

CHARLES BLOUNT. 

Look with me through the dark vista of 150 years of clouded history. Throw your mind across the bridge of time, for we are about to visita tragic scene--a scene which might be depicted by a poet--so much ofbeauty, of truth, and of goodness, all blasted by the perjuries of thepriest. Yonder, in the dim library of an ancestral mansion, emboweredamid the woods of the south, close by the gurgling waters which beat anecho to the stormy breezes--those breezes which will never more fanhis cheek--that water where he has often bathed his limbs will be hisrippling monument. The shady moonlight of an August evening is gildingthe rich pastures of Hertfordshire; the gorse bushes have not yet losttheir beauty, the pheasants are playing in the woods--woods that solately resounded with laughter--laughter ringing like a bell--the musicof a merry heart. Withdraw those curtains which hide the heart-struckand the dead. Above you is the exquisite picture of Eleanora, gazinginto the very bed at that form which lay shrouded in nothingness. Yousee the broad manly brow--even now the brown hair rises in gracefulcurls over that damp forehead. The lips are locked in an eternal smile, as if to mock the closed eyes and the recumbent form. Is it true thatpictures of those we love are endowed with a clairvoyant power of gazingat those who have caressed them in life? If it is, then on that Augustnight the wife of Charles Blount was watching over his bier. 

But who is that pale form, with dishevelled hair and weeping eyes, with an alabaster skin stained with the blue spots of grief? The rapidupheaving swells of that fair bosom tell of affection withered, not byremorse, but by superstition? See her how she nervously grasps thatdead man's hand, how she imprints kisses on his lips! Her hair, whichyesterday was glossy as the raven's, is now as bleached as the drivensnow; to-day she utters her plaintive cries, to-morrow she hastens tojoin her lover in the tomb. This is a sad history. It should be writtenwith the juice of hemlock, as a warning to Genius of impatient love. 

While the fair girl watches by the couch of the suicide, while from thepainted canvass Eleanora gleams on the living and the dead, while theclouds of night gather silently over that ancestral hall, around thedrooping com on the bold sloping park, and the clear blue river--all soquiet and gentle--let us gather up the events of the past, and learn thecause of a death so tragic, a grief so piercing. 

In the year 1672, at the age of nineteen years, a young man (the son ofa baronet) led to the altar the lovely daughter of Sir Timothy Tyrrel. Flowers strewed the path of the wedded pair, and for years their lifewas one scene of bliss. At last, struck down by disease, Charles Blountstood by the side of his dying wife--in his arms _his_ Eleanora yieldedher last sigh. He buried her by the willow-tree in the old churchyard. The lily blended with the white rose, and the myrtle overshadowed thegrave. It was here where the widower rested in the evening--here wherehe taught his children the virtues of their dead mother. Sometimes hegazed at the azure skies, and strange fancies beguiled the mind of themourner. When he saw the sun sink to the west, gilding the world withits glorious rays, he mused on the creeds of many lands. He fancied hesaw a heaven and a God, and traced in the lines of light thepatriarchal worshippers of the world. He looked at the sun and itsworshippers--those who sought the origin of purity by worshipping thatwhich is the origin of all good. He looked at the fables of Greece, andfound delight in the thought of Sappho uttering her diapason of joy inlyrics which told of love and beauty; at Egypt, where the priests, intheir esoteric cunning, searched in vain for that which gives life, andmotion, and joy; and then he glanced at the Christian heaven, but hereall was dark--dark as the Plutonian caverns of Homer's hell. Hewished to meet his Eleanora--not in Pagan dreams--not in Christianparables--but in the world of realities. He looked with eager eyes uponthe world around him, in society, at Court, and, in the homes of hiscountry. But wherever he went, there was but one thought--one feeling. He wished a mother for his children--a mother like the sainted dead. There was but one who answered the ideal--like in features, in passion, and in beauty--to the lost Eleanora. Born of the same parents, loved bythe same brother, educated by the same teachers, imbued with the samethoughts, she was the model of her dead sister; with a sisterly lovefor her brother, she was already both mother and aunt to her sister'schildren. 

With deliberate thoughts, with convulsive passion, the love of CharlesBlount passed the bounds of that of a brother; longing to make her hiswife, he adored her with the passion he had lavished on the dead. Itseemed as if the shade of Eleanora was perpetually prompting him tobestow all his affection on the young and beautiful Eliza. She caressedhis children with the pride of an aunt, she traced the image of hersister in the laughing eyes of the merry babes--still she was not happy. How could she be happy? She loved him as a man--as a brother. She wasa Christian--he an Infidel. She was bound by creeds--he by conduct. Shewas doing the duty she owed to the dead. He sought to do it by unitinghimself to the living. Eliza was anxious to marry, but there existedsomething which, to her mind, was greater than human duties, and itoften outraged them. God and the Church demanded her first attention, and then her lover and his children. The Church, in cruel mockery ofhuman rights, stepped between her judgment and her affections. It deniedthe power of a woman to occupy the married home of her deceased sister. She was willing to pledge her love to Charles Blount at the altar, butthe priest mocked her prayers and denounced her affections. The occasionwas too good to be lost. Episcopalism sought revenge on its opponent, and it triumphed. Eliza felt the force of Blount's arguments. Shewandered with him through the green fields, but her sorrow was toogreat to pluck the wild roses. The luscious fruits of summer werepassed untasted. A heart sick and in trouble, a mind wandering from hersister's grave to her children, and then at the anathema of the Church, made her a widowed maid. To overcome her scruples, her lover wrote abook (inviting the clergy to refute it, ) defending the marriage with adeceased wife's sister. But ever as he spoke there was a film before hereyes. There was a gaunt priest, with canonical robes, stood before thegates of heaven. Before him and through him was the way to an eternalhappiness, below him was a fiery hell; and he shouted with hoarse voice, _Incest, incest, incest!_--And ever as he shouted, he pointed with hisfinger of scorn at this Christian hell, and she conjured up in her mindthe old stories of this priest, until she saw the livid flames rising uphigher till they encircled her form, and then the priest screamed withfury, _Anathema maranatha, incest, incest!_ And in terror she stood, with the big drops of sweat dripping from her brow, with her heartbeating, with her mind distracted, but her affections unclouded. 

This priest was the Church of England, and those fancies were driveninto her imagination by her creed, her litanies, and her sermons. ElizaTyrrel was miserable; she was placed between her love, her duty, and herreligion. If she had been a woman of a strong mind, she would havetorn her creed into shreds, she would have dared the anathema of thepriest--the ostracism of its dupes--and would have clung to the man sheloved so truly, in defiance of that which was, at the best, but a faintpossibility. 

The arguments in that pamphlet of Blount's were conclusive, but shedistrusted reason. The plainest dictates of common logic were referredto the promptings of the Devil. How could it be otherwise? Can theteachings of a lifetime be overthrown by the courtship of a few months?Eliza Tyrrel, true to Blount, loved him; true to her religion, she durstnot marry him without the sanction of the Church. So Blount, as a lastresolve, laid the matter before the Lord's Vicegerent at Canterbury, and many of the most learned divines of England; and from thoseecclesiastical leeches there was a Shylock cry of _incest, incest, incest!_ And those terrible words came greeting the ears of CharlesBlount, making his home like a charnel-house, and they nearly sent hisbeautiful Eliza to a maniac's grave. Still she lingered on. Denied thepower of a wife, she would not relinquish her duties as a mother to hersister's babes. There was a calm heroism here which few can imitate. The passions of Blount could not brook further insults. The last kickof bigotry against the broken-hearted Freethinker was given. He couldno longer rise with the lark, and roam over the bills of his ancestralhome. To him the birds, as they warbled, spoke of joys never to return. The broad river told him of the days when the little skiff floatedon its waters with Eleanora; and even his friends only too bitterlyreminded him of the tournaments of wit where Hobbes, Brown, and Gildon, jousted each other in the presence of his wife. His life was one sceneof misery. He saw no chance of amendment. In a fit of despair, heloaded his pistol with due deliberation, placed it to his head, and shothimself. He lingered for sometime, and then died on the breast of Eliza. 

This was a strange suicide. Blount's memory bears its weight of obloquy. It is hard to draw the line when and where a man has a right to takeaway his life. Common sense tells us that so long as our families aredependent upon us, we have no right to end our lives; and if we have nodependents, no friends, then our country has a claim upon us. But, atthe same time, the one sole end of existence is to be happy. If a mancannot find happiness in life, if there is a great coalition againsthim, he is justified in taking up arms against them; but, at the sametime, it proves a greater amount of courage "to bear up against the illsof life" than to madly leave it, and thus weaken the force of those whowish to stem its injustice. 

Charles Blount died, and with him expired much of the chivalry ofFreethought. His friend, Charles Gil-don, writing of him to a lady, says, "You know Astrea (Eliza, ) and have an exact friendship withher. You can attest her beauty, wit, honor, virtue, good humor, anddiscretion. You have been acquainted with the charms of her conversationand conduct, and condemn her, only adhering to a national custom to theloss of so generous a friend, and so faithful a lover. But custom andobedience meeting the more easily, betrayed her virtue into a crime. Iknow my friend loved her to his last breath; and I know, therefore, thatall who love his memory must, for her sake, love and value her, as beinga lady of that merit, that engaged the reason of Philander (C. Blount)to so violent a passion for her. "

The same writer says, "His father was Sir Henry Blount, the Socratesof the age, for his aversions to the reigning sophisms and hypocrisies, eminent in all capacities: the best husband, father, and master, extremely agreeably in conversation, and just in all his dealings. From such a father our hero derived him self; to such a master owedhis generous education, unmixed with the nauseous methods and profaneopinions of the schools. Nature gave him parts capable of the noblestsciences, and his industrious studies bore a proportion to hiscapacities. He was a generous and constant friend, an indulgent parent, and a kind master. His temper was open and free; his conversationpleasant; his reflections just and modest; his repartees close--notscurrilous; he had a great deal of wit, and no malice. His mind waslarge and noble--above the little designs of most men; an enemy todissimulation, and never feared to own his thoughts. He was a trueEnglishman, and lover of the liberties of his country, and declared itin the worst of times. He was an enemy to nothing but error, and nonewere his enemies that knew him, but those who sacrificed more to mammonthan reason. "

This was the man who died, because a dominant priesthood insisted ona dogma which interfered with a purely Secular rite, which blasted twohearts in a vain attempt to perpetuate a system, which dashes its rudefingers, and tears out the heart of human felicity to sprinkle the altarof superstition with the gore of offended innocence. Charles Blountwas a Deist; as such, he believed in a God; which he described in hisaccount of a Deist's religion. Let us examine his thoughts, and see ifthey bear the interpretation which Christianity has always placed uponthem. Blount gives the Deist's opinion of God. He says, "Whatever isadorable, amiable, and imitable by mankind, is in one Supreme, perfectBeing. " An Atheist cannot object to this. He speaks in the mannerin which God is to be worshipped. He says, not by sacrifice, or by aMediator, but by a steady adherence to all that is great and good andimitable in nature. This is the brief religious creed of Charles Blount. He never seeks to find out fabled attributes of Deity. He knows what isof value to mankind, and sedulously practices whatever is beneficial tosociety. 

In his "Anima Mundi, or, History of the Opinions of the Heathens on theImmortality of the Soul, " (p. 97, ) Blount says:--

"The heathen philosophers were much divided concerning the soul'sfuture state; some held it mortal, others immortal. Of those who heldthe mortality of the soul, the Epicureans were the chief sect, who, notwithstanding their doctrines, led virtuous lives. " Cardan had sogreat a value for their moral actions, that he appeared in justificationof them. It appears (says he) "by the writings of Cicero, Diogenes, and Laertius, that the Epicureans did more religiously observe laws, piety, and fidelity among men than either the Stoics or the Platonists;and I suppose the cause thereof was, that a man is either good or evilby custom, but none confideth in those that do not possess sanctity oflife. Wherefore they were compelled to use greater fidelity, therebythe better to justify their profession, from which reason it likewiseproceeds, that at this day few do equal the fidelity of usurers, notwithstanding they are most base in the rest of their life. Also amongthe Jews, whilst the Pharisees, that confessed the resurrection and theimmortality of the soul, frequently persecuted Christ, the Sadducees, who denied the resurrection, angels, and spirits, meddled not with himabove once or twice, and that very gently. Thus, if you compare thelives of Pliny and Seneca (not their writings, ) you shall find Pliny, with his mortality of the soul, did as far exceed Seneca in honesty ofmanners, as Seneca excels him in religious discourse. The Epicureansobserved honesty above others, and in their conversation were usuallyfound inoffensive and virtuous, and for that reason were often employedby the Romans when they could persuade them to accept of great employs, for their fault was not any want of ability or honesty, but theirgeneral desire of leading a private life of ease, and free from trouble, although inglorious. For when immortality is not owned, there can be noambition of posthumous glory. 

"The Epicureans, instead of those bloody scenes of gallantry (whichtyrants applaud, ) undertook to manage carefully the inheritance oforphans; bringing up, at their own charge, the children of theirdeceased friends, and were counted good men, unless it were in front ofreligious worship; for they constantly affirmed that there were no Gods, or, at least, such as concerned themselves with human affairs, accordingto the poets. Neither doth the hope of immortality conduce to fortitude, as some vainly suggest, for Brutus was not more valiant than Cassius;and if we will confess the truth, the deeds of Brutus were more cruelthan those of Cassius; for he used the Rhodians, who were his enemies, far more kindly than Brutus did those amicable cities which he governed. In a word, though they both, had a hand in Cæsar's murder, yet Brutuswas the only parricide. So that the Stoics, which believed a Providence, lived as if there were none; whereas the Epicureans, who denied it, lived as if there were. .. . The next sect to the Epicureans, in pointof incredulity, concerning the soul, 1 conceive to be the Sceptics, whowere by some esteemed, not only the modestest, but the most perspicuousof all sects. They neither affirmed nor denied anything, but doubtedof all things. They thought all our knowledge seemed rather like truth, than to be really true, and that for such like reasons as these:--

"1. They denied any knowledge of the Divine Nature, because, they say, to know adequately is to comprehend, and to comprehend is to contain, and the thing contained must be less than that which contains it; toknow inadequately is not to know. 

"2. From the uncertainty of our senses, as, for instance, our eyesrepresent things at a distance to be less than they really are. Astraight stick in the water appears crooked; the moon to be no biggerthan a cheese; the sun greater at rising and setting than at noon. Theshore seems to move, and the ship to stand still; square things to beround at a distance; an erect pillar to be less at the top. Neither (saythey) do we know whether objects are really as our eyes represent themto us, for the same thing which seems white to us seems yellow to ajaundiced man, and red to a creature afflicted with red eyes; also, if aman rubs his eyes, the figure which he beholds seems long or narrow, andtherefore it is not improbable that goats, cats, and other creatures, which have long pupils of the eye, may think those things long which wecall round, for as glasses represent the object variously, accordingto their shape, so it may be with our eyes. And so the sense of hearingdeceives. Thus, the echo of a trumpet, sounded in a valley, makes thesound seem before us, when it is behind us. Besides, how can we thinkthat an ear, which has a narrow passage, can receive the same sound withthat which has a wide one? Or the ear, whose inside is full of hair, tohear the same with a smooth ear? Experience tells us that if we stop, or half stop, our ears, the sound cometh different as when the ears areopen. Nor is the smelling, taste, or touch less subject to mistake; forthe same scents please some, and displease others, and so in our tastes. To a rough and dry tongue that very thing seems bitter (as in an ague, )which to the most moist tongue seems otherwise, and so is it in othercreatures. The like is true of the touch, for it were absurd to thinkthat those creatures which are covered with shells, scales, or hairs, should have the same sense in touching with those that are smooth. Thusone and the same object is diversely judged of, according to thevarious qualities of the instruments of sense, which convinceth tothe imagination; from all which the Sceptic concluded, that what thesethings are in their own nature, whether red, white, bitter, or sweet, he cannot tell; for, says he, why should I prefer my own conceit inaffirming the nature of things to be thus, or thus, because it seemethso to me--when other living creatures, perhaps, think it is otherwise?But the greatest fallacy is in the operation of our inward senses; forthe fancy is sometimes persuaded that it hears and sees what it doesnot, and our reasoning is so weak, that in many disciplines scarce onedemonstration is found, though this alone produces science. Wherefore itwas Democritus's opinion that truth is hid in a well, that she may notbe found by men. Now, although this doctrine be very inconsistent withChristianity, yet I could wish Adam had been of this persuasion, forthen he would not have mortgaged his posterity for the purchase of atwilight knowledge. Now, from these sinister observations it was thatthey esteemed all our sciences to be but conjectures, and our knowledgebut opinion. Whereupon, doubting the sufficiency of human reason, theywould not venture to affirm or deny anything of the soul's future state;but civilly and quietly gave way to the doctrines and ordinances underwhich they lived, without raising or espousing any new opinions. "Speaking of the "origin of the world, " Gildon gives the following as atranslation from Ocellus Lucanas:--"Again (says he, ) as the frame of theworld has been always, so it is necessary that its parts should likewisealways have existed; by parts, I mean the heaven, earth, and that whichlieth betwixt--viz. , the sky; for not without these, but with these, andof these, the world consists. Also, if the parts exist, it is necessarythat the things which are within them should also coexist; as withthe heavens, the sun, moon, fixed stars, and planets; with the earth, animals, plants, minerals, gold, and silver; with the air, exhalations, winds, and alterations of weather, sometimes heat and sometimes cold, for with the world all those things do, and ever have existed, as partsthereof. Nor hath man had any original production from the earth, or elsewhere, as some believe, but have always been, as now he is, coexistent with the world, whereof he is a part. Now, corruptions andviolent alterations are made according to the parts of the earth, bywinds and waters imprisoned in the bowels thereof; but a universal, corruption of the earth never hath been, nor ever shall be. Yet thesealterations have given occasion for the invention of many lies andfables. And thus are we to understand them that derive the original ofthe Greek history from Inachus, the Argive; not that he really was theoriginal, as some make him, but because a most memorable alterationdid then happen, and some were so unskilful as to attribute it toInachus. .. . But for the universe, and all the parts whereof it subsists, as it is at present, so it ever was, and ever shall be; one natureperpetually moving, and another perpetually suffering, one alwaysgoverning, and the other always being governed. The course whichnature takes in governing the world, is by one contrary prevailing overanother, as thus:--The moisture in the air prevaileth over the drynessof the fire; and the coldness of the wafer over the heat of the air, and the dryness of the earth over the moisture of the water; and so themoisture of the water over the dryness of the earth; and the heat in theair over the coldness of the water; and the dryness in the fire over themoisture of the air. And thus the alterations are made and produced, outof one another. .. . As nature cannot create by making something outof nothing, so neither can it annihilate, by turning something intonothing; whence it consequently follows, as there is no access, so thereis no diminution in the universe, no more than in the alphabet, by theinfinite combination and transposition of letters, or in the wax by thealteration of the seal stamped upon it. Now, as for the forms of naturalbodies, no sooner doth any one abandon the matter he occupied, butanother instantly steps into the place thereof; no sooner hath one actedhis part and is retired, but another comes presently forth upon thestage, though it may be in a different shape, and so act a differentpart; so that no portion of the matter is, or at any time can be, altogether void and empty, but like Proteus, it burns itself into athousand shapes, and is always supplied with one form or another, therebeing in nature nothing but circulation. "

The following are the principal works of Blount:--"Anima Mundi; or, anHistorical Narration of the Opinions of the Ancients concerning Man'sSoul after this Life, according to Enlightened Nature;" published in1679. Upwards of twenty answers were published to this work. In 1680he published a translation, with notes, of the life of Apolloninis, ofTyana. This work was suppressed. During the same year, he gave the world"Great is Diana of the Ephesians; or, the Original of Idolatry. "By able critics this is considered one of bis ablest works in 1683, "Religio Laici" appeared, which is published hum a Latin work of LordHerbert's. In 1688 he wrote "A Vindication of Learning, and of theLiberty of the Press. " This tractate sparkles with wit and argument. Butby far the most important work he was connected with, was published inthe year he died, and mainly written by himself, "The Oracles ofReason" a favorite title with both American and English Freethinkers. Itconsists of sixteen sections; the most interesting being the first four, containing "A Vindication of Dr. Burnett's Archiologie. " The seventh andeighth chapters (translated) of the same, of "Moses's Description ofthe Original State of Man, " and Dr. Burnett's "Appendix of the Brahmin'sReligion. " We would quote from these sections of the "Oracles, " butintend to form separate "Half-Hours, " with sketches of Drs. Brown andBurnett; it will be more appropriate to use Blount's translation indescribing those quaint, but highly instructive authors. In the generalstyle of Blount's works, he is not seen to advantage; there is too muchheaviness, enhanced by the perpetual Greek and Latin quotations; but ashis works were intended for scholars, and the time in which they werewritten was essentially the most pedantic era of our literary history, we cannot expect that vivacity and clearness which other writers ina later age possessed. It was in his character as a man that Blountexcelled--he was the leader of the chivalry of the period, as in thenext age Woolston was his successor. At the Court he was the gayest ofthe gay, without the taint of immorality, in a period of the grossestlicentiousness; he defended the honor of his friends, frequently atthe expense of calumny and danger. In witty repartees he was equal toRochester; while for abstruse learning he was superior to many of themost learned theologians. Daintily brave and skilfully alive to therequirements of friends and foes, he passed through life in the gildedbarge of pleasure, and ended it sailing through a cloud where hefoundered. But the darkness which enveloped his history is now chargedwith that sympathetic power which draws the young to his grave, andcompels the gloomiest to shed a tear over his unhappy fate. 

At the close of August, in 1693, a few friends met near the grave ofBlount, to join in their last respects to their lost friend. Foremostamongst them was Charles Gildon, who so soon repented of the part hehad taken in the "Oracles of Reason, " but never forgot the kindness heexperienced from Blount. He lived long enough for Pope to be revenged onhis apostacy, by inserting his name in his great satire. At the time wespeak he was mournful and deeply grieved at the loss he had sustained;near him was Harvey Wilwood, whose bold demeanor and sorrowfulcountenance told of heart-struck grief, for of the few able toappreciate the genius of Blount, he was one of the earliest and mostdevoted in his friendship. Now we see the noble Lord, whom Blount alwaysaddressed as "the most ingenious Strephon;" along with him there is thepretty Anne Rogers, with Savage, and Major Arkwright; we look in vainfor Eliza Tyr-rel; they talk slowly over him that is no more; theyrecount to themselves the intellectual achievements, and the brillianthours they have spent in the past; and while they speak so kindly, andthink so deeply, they kneel on the hallowed spot, but not to pray;some of them pledge their enmity against Christian laws and Christianpriests, and they executed it. During this time, the calm radiance ofthe lunar light shines on the church of Ridge, illumining those ghostlytablets of white marble, where the forefathers of Blount lie entombed. The baronial arms are emblazoned on the wall; heraldic pomp is keepingwatch over the mouldering bones of the now-levelled great. Anne Rogersweeps wildly for Eliza and Eleanora. Those metaphysical disquisitionswhich have exalted woman to so high a nature, that devotion to estheticswhich woman should always cultivate, not as a household slave, butas one of equal rights with man, and his leader in everything whichconcerns taste, elegance, and modesty; such gifts in no ordinary degreehad Anne Rogers--and often in dialectic subtlety had she mastered herrelative, who stood by her side, and given tokens of her admiration ofBlount's philosophy and conduct. "Strephon" was passionately attachedto his confidant and friend, and could not give so calm an expressionto his loss. He wept wildly, for he had lost one who tempered his rebukewith a kind word, and pointed out that Epicurean path which leads toenjoyment without excess: to pleasure, without a reaction. It was amemorable meeting. While the remembrance of past deeds of love lightedup the eye and made the blood course faster through their veins, AnneRogers detailed the following episode in his character:--Blount hadvisited the Court of King James, and had been singled out by thatmonarch for one of his savage fits of spleen. "I hear, Mr. Blount, youare very tenacious of the opinions of Sir Henry, your father, and youconsider his conduct during the Rebellion as worthy of imitation. Isit so?" "Your Majesty, " replies Blount, "has been correctly informed; Iadmire my father's conduct. " "What!" says James, "in opposing his king?"Blount quickly answered, "A king, my liege, is the chief magistrate ofthe Commonwealth, and is so hereditarily while he obeys the laws ofthat Commonwealth, whose power he represents; but when he usurps thedirection of that power, he is king no longer, and such was the casewith your royal father. " With a scowl of defiance on his face, KingJames left the Freethinker, and sought more congenial company; and asAnne Rogers told the story, each eye was dimmed with tears. The moon hadrisen high in the heavens ere the mourners prepared to depart--the firststreaks of dawn broke through the Eastern sky, and revealed the gravewatered with tears, where the most chivalrous Freethinker of his agereposed, in that sleep which knows of no awakening. 

"A. C. "

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley (the son and heir of a wealthy English baronet, SirTimothy Shelley, of Castle Goring, in the county of Sussex) was born atField Place, near Horsham, in that county, on the 4th of August, 1792. Ushered into the world in the midst of wealth and fashion, with all theadvantages of family distinction, the future of Shelley's life appeareda bright one; but the sunshine of the morning only served to renderthe darkness which came over his noontide more dark, and to make poorShelley still more susceptible of the hardships he had to encounter. First educated at Eton, his spirit there manifested itself by anunflinching opposition to the fagging system, and by revolt against thesevere discipline of the school; in his "Revolt of Islam" Shelley hasthus portrayed his feeling:--

 "I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep; a fresh May dawn it was When I walked forth upon the glittering grass And wept, I knew not why: until there rose From the near school-room voices that, alas! Were but one echo from a world of woes, The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. 

 And then I clasped my hands and looked around, And none was near to mock my streaming eyes, Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground; So, without shame, I spake--' I will be wise, And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish, and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check. '"

 . .. .. 

 And from that hour did I, with earnest thought, Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore; Yet nothing that ray tyrants knew or taught I cared to learn, but from that secret store Wrought linked armour for my soul, before It might walk forth to war among mankind. "

From Eton, Shelley went to Oxford, and while there he, scarce at the ageof eighteen, published a volume of political rhymes, entitled "MargaretNicholson's Remains, " the said Margaret being a woman who tried toassassinate George III. He also wrote a pamphlet in defence of Atheism. A copy of this pamphlet he caused to be sent to the head of each of thecolleges in Oxford, with a challenge to discuss and answer. --The answerto this was the edict which expelled Shelley from Oxford, and at thesame time placed a wide chasm between him and his family. This breachwas still further widened in the following year by his marriage, at theage of nineteen, with a beautiful girl named Westbrook. Although MissWestbrook was respectfully connected, Shelley's aristocratic familyregarded this as a _mesalliance_, and withdrew his pecuniary allowance;and had it not been for the bride's father, who allowed the young couple£200 a year, they would have been reduced to actual poverty. This was anunfortunate marriage for both. After having two children, disagreementsarose, and Shelley was separated from his wife. She (like all beautifulwomen) was soon attacked by the busy tongue of slander, and, unable tobear the world's taunts, committed suicide by throwing herself into apond, just four years from the date of their marriage. Shelley, on thisaccount, suffered much misery and misrepresentation, and this misery wasmuch increased by his family, who applied to the Court of Chancery, andobtained a decree, by which Shelley was deprived of the custody ofhis children, on the ground of his Atheism. The same spirit even nowpervades the Shelley family, and scarce a copy of his poems can be foundin the neighborhood of his birth-place. Shelley afterwards contracteda second marriage with the daughter of Godwin, the author of "CalebWilliams, " and Mary Wollstonecroft (who died in giving birth toShelley's wife), and for sometime the poet resided at Marlow inBuckinghamshire, where he composed the "Revolt of Islam;" and it isa strong proof of the reality of Shelley's poetical pleadings for theoppressed amongst the human race, that he was indefatigable in hisattentions to the poor cottagers of his neighborhood; and that hesuffered severely from an attack of opthalmia, which was originatedin one of his benevolent visits. Nearly the first of Shelley's poems washis "Queen Mab, " in which (having in vain struggled to devote himselfto metaphysics apart from poetry), he blended his metaphysicalspeculation with his poetical aspirations. The following quotationsare taken from that poem, in which his wonderful command of language iswell shown:--

 "There's not one atom of yon earth But once was living man; Nor the minutest drop of rain, That hangeth in its thinnest cloud, But flowed in human veins;

 And from the burning plains Where Lybian monsters yell, From the most gloomy glens Of Greenland's sunless clime, To where the golden fields Of fertile England spread Their harvest to the day, Thou canst not find one spot Whereon no city stood. 

 How strange is human pride! I tell thee that those living things, To whom the fragile blade of grass, That springeth in the morn And perishes ere noon. 

 In an unbounded world; I tell thee that those viewless beings. Whose mansion is the smallest particle Of the impassive atmosphere, Think, feel, and live, like man: That their affections and antipathies, Like his, produce the laws Ruling their mortal state; And the minutest throb. 

 That through their frame diffuses The slightest, faintest motion, Is fixed and indispensable As the majestic laws That rule yon rolling orbs. 

 . .. .. 

 How bold the flight of passion's wandering wing, How swift the step of reason's firmer tread, How calm and sweet the victories of life. How terrorless the triumph of the grave! How powerless were the mightiest monarch's arm, Vain his loud threat and impotent his frown! How ludicrous the priest's dogmatic roar! The weight of his exterminating curse, How light! and his affected charity, To suit the pressure of the changing times, What palpable deceit!--but for thy aid, Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, Who peoplest earth with demons, hell with men, And heaven with slaves!

 Thou taintest all thou look'st upon!--The stare, Which on thy cradle beamed so brightly sweet, Were gods to the distempered playfulness Of thy untutored infancy: the trees, The grass, the clouds, the mountains, and the sea, All living things that walk, swim, creep, or fly, Were gods: the sun had homage, and the moon Her worshipper. Then thou becam'st a boy, More daring in thy frenzies: every shape, Monstrous or vast, or beautifully wild, Which, from sensation's relics, fancy culls; The spirits of the air, the shuddering ghost, The genii of the elements, the powers That give a shape to nature's varied works, Had life and place in the corrupt belief Of thy blind heart--yet still thy youthful hands Were pure of human blood. Then manhood gave Its strength and ardor to thy frenzied brain; Thine eager gaze scanned the stupendous scene, Whose wonders mocked the knowledge of thy pride. 

 Their everlasting and unchanging laws Reproached thine ignorance. Awhile thou stood'st Baffled and gloomy; then thou did'st sum up The elements of all that thou did'st know. 

 The changing seasons, winter's leafless reign, The budding of the heaven-breathing trees, The eternal orbs that beautify the night, The sunrise, and the setting of the moon, Earthquakes and wars, and poisons and disease, And all their causes, to an abstract point, Converging, thou did'st bend, and called it God; The self-sufficing, the omnipotent, The merciful, and the avenging God!

 Who, prototype of human misrule, sits High in Heaven's realm, upon a golden throne, Even like an earthly king: and whose dread work, Hell gapes forever for the unhappy slaves Of fate, whom he created in his sport, To triumph in their torments when they fell!

 Earth heard the name; earth trembled, as the smoke Of his revenge ascended up to Heaven, Blotting the constellations: and the cries Of millions, butchered in sweet confidence, And unsuspecting peace, even when the bonds Of safety were confirmed by wordy oaths, Sworn in his dreadful name, rung through the land; Whilst innocent babes writhed on thy stubborn spear, And thou did'st laugh to hear the mother's shriek Of maniac gladness, as the sacred steel Felt cold in her torn entrails!

 Religion! thou wert then in manhood's prime; But age crept on: one God would not suffice For senile puerility; thou fram'dst A tale to suit thy dotage, and to glut Thy misery-thirsting soul, that the mad fiend Thy wickedness had pictured might afford A plea for sating the unnatural thirst For murder, rapine, violence, and crime, That still consumed thy being, even when Thou heard'st the step of fate:--that flames might light Thy funeral scene, and the shrill horrent shrieks Of parents dying on the pile that burned To light their children to thy paths, the roar Of the encircling flames, the exulting cries Of thine apostles, loud commingling there, Might sate thy hungry ear Even on the bed of death!

 But now contempt is mocking thy gray hairs; Thou art descending to the darksome grave, Unhonored and unpitied, but by those Whose pride is passing by like thine, and sheds Like thine, a glare that fades before the sun Of truth, and shines but in the dreadful night That long has lowered above the ruined world. "

Speaking of the Atheist's martyrdom in answer to the spirit of "Ianthe, "Shelley makes his fairy say:--

 "There is no God! Nature confirms the faith his death-groan sealed. Let heaven and earth, let man's revolving race, His ceaseless generations, tell their tale;

 Let every part depending on the chain That links it to the whole, point to the hand That grasps its term! Let every seed that falls In silent eloquence unfold its store Of argument. Infinity within, Infinity without, belie creation; The exterminate spirit it contains Is nature's only God: but human pride Is skilful to invent most serious names To hide its ignorance. 

 The name of God Has fenced about all crime with holiness, Himself the creature of his worshippers, Whose names and attributes and passions change, Seeva, Buddh, Foh, Jehovah, Goa, or Lord, Even with the human dupes who build his shrines. Still serving o'er the war-polluted world For desolation's watch-word; whether hosts Stain his death-blushing chariot wheels, as on Triumphantly they roll, whilst Brahmins raise A sacred hymn to mingle with the groans; Or countless partners of his powers divide His tyranny to weakness: or the smoke Of burning towns, the cries of female helplessness, Unarmed old age, and youth, and infancy, Horribly massacred, ascend to heaven In honor of his name; or, last and worst, Earth groans beneath religion's iron age, And priests dare babble of a God of peace, Even whilst their hands are red with guiltless blood, Murdering the while, uprooting every germ Of truth, exterminating, spoiling all, Making the earth a slaughter-house. "

"Ianthe's" spirit, however, asks still further, and the ghost ofAhasuerus having been summoned, the question is repeated, "Is there aGod?"

 "_Ahasuerus_. --Is there a God? ay, an Almighty God, And vengeful as Almighty! Once his voice Was heard on earth: earth shuddered at the sound, The fiery-visaged firmament expressed Abhorrence, and the grave of nature yawned To swallow all the dauntless and the good That dared to hurl defiance at his throne, Girt as it was with power. None but slaves Survived, --cold-blooded slaves, who did the work Of tyrannous omnipotence: whose souls No honest indignation ever urged To elevated daring, to one deed Which gross and sensual self did not pollute. These slaves built temples for the omnipotent fiend, Gorgeous and vast: the costly altars smoked With human blood, and hideous moans rung Through all the long-drawn aisles. A murderer heard His voice in Egypt, one whose gifts and arts Had raised him to nis eminence in power, Accomplice of omnipotence in crime, And confidant of the all-knowing one. 

 These were Jehovah's words: "From an eternity of idleness, God, awoke: in seven days toil made earth From nothing; rested, and created man. I placed him in a paradise, and there Planted the tree of evil, so that he Might eat and perish, and my soul procure Wherewith to sate its malice, and to turn, Even like a heartless conqueror of the earth, All misery to my fame. The race of men, Chosen to my honor, with impunity, May sate the lusts I planted in their heart. Here I command thee hence to lead them on, Until, with hardened feet, their conquering troops Wade on the promised soil through woman's blood, And make my name be dreaded through the land. Yet ever burning flame and ceaseless woe Shall be the doom of their eternal souls, With every soul on this ungrateful earth, Virtuous or vicious, weak or strong, --even all Shall perish, to fulfil the blind revenge Which you, to men, call justice, of their God. "

 The murderer's brow Quivered with horror. God omnipotent! Is there no mercy? must our punishment Be endless? will long ages roll away, And see no 'term? Oh! wherefore hast thou made In mockery and wrath this evil earth? Mercy becomes the powerful--be but just: O God! repent and save. 

 "One way remains! I will beget a son, and he shall bear The sins of all the world: he shall arise In an unnoticed corner of the earth, And there shall die upon a cross, and purge The universal crime; so that the few On whom my grace descends, those who are marked As vessels to the honor of their God, May credit this strange sacrifice, and save Their souls alive. Millions shall live and die Who ne'er shall call upon their Saviour's name, But, unredeemed, go to the gaping, grave. Thousands shall deem it an old woman's tale, Such as the nurses frighten babes withal. These in a gulph of anguish and of flame Shall curse their reprobation endlessly. Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow, Even on their beds of torment, where they howl, My honor, and the justice of their doom. What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughts Of purity, with radiant genius bright, Or lit with human reason's earthly ray? Many are called, but few I will elect. Do thou my bidding, Moses!"

In his poem of "Rosalind and Helen, " the poet indulges in the followingprophecy, which he puts in the mouth of Helen:--

 "Fear not the tyrants shall rule forever, Or the priests of the bloody faith; They stand on the brink of that mighty river, Whose waves they have tainted with death. It is fed from the depths of a thousand dells, Around them it foams, and rages, and swells; And their swords and their sceptres I floating see, Like wrecks on the surge of eternity. ?"

Beside the poems mentioned, Shelley wrote "The Cenci, " "Alastor, ""Prometheus Unbound, " and many others, including a beautiful little odeto a "Skylark, " and the well-known "Sensitive Plant. "

Shelley was a true and noble man--no poet was ever warmed by a moregenuine and unforced aspiration. --De Quincey says, "Shelley would, fromhis earliest manhood, have sacrificed all that he possessed for anycomprehensive purpose of good for the race of man. He dismissed allinsults and injuries from his memory. He was the sincerest and mosttruthful of human creatures. 

"If he denounced marriage as a vicious institution, _that_ was butanother phase of the partial lunacy which affected him: for to no manwere purity and fidelity more essential elements in the idea of reallove. Again, De Quincey speaks of Shelley's "fearlessness, his graciousnature, his truth, his purity from all flesh-liness of appetite, hisfreedom from vanity, his diffusive love and tenderness. " This testimonyis worth much, the more especially when we remember that it is from thepen of Thomas de Quincey, who, while truthfully acknowledging the man, hesitates not to use polished irony, rough wit, and covert sneering, when dealing with the man's uttered thinkings. 

"That Shelley understood the true mission of a poet, and the true natureof poetry, will appear from the following extract from one of his proseessays:--"Poetry, " he says, "is the record of the best and happiestmoments of the happiest and best minds. We are aware of evanescentvisitations of thought and feeling, sometimes associated with placeand person, sometimes regarding our own mind alone, and always arisingunforeseen, and departing unbidden, but elevating stud delightful beyondall expression. Poets are not only subject to these experiences, asspirits of the most refined organization, but they can color all theycombine with the evanescent lines of this ethereal world; a word, a trait in the representation of a scene or passion will touch theenchanted cord, and reanimate in those who have ever experienced theseemotions, the sleeping, the cold, the buried image of the past. Poetrythus makes immortal all that is best and most beautiful in the world;it arrests the vanishing apparitions which haunt the interlunationsof life, and veiling them, or in language or in form, sends them forthamong mankind, bearing sweet news of kindred joy to those with whomtheir sisters abide--abide, because there is no portal of expressionfrom the caverns of the spirit which they inhabit into the universe ofthings. "

Shelley's beautiful imagery and idealistic drapery is sometimes soaccumulated in his poems, that it is difficult to follow him in histhinkings. In his verse he wishes to stand high as a philosophicalreasoner, and this, together with his devotion to the cause, which evenmen of De Quincey's stamp call "Insolent Infidelity, " has preventedShelley from becoming so popular as he might have been. 

Shelley lived a life of strife, passed his boyhood and youth instruggling to be free--misunderstood and misinterpreted: and when atlast in his manhood happier circumstances were gathering around him, a blast of wind came, and the waves of the sea washed away one who wasreally and truly "a man and a poet. "

On Monday. July 8th, 1822, being then in his 29th year, Shelley wasreturning from Leghorn to his home at Lerici, in a schooner-rigged boatof his own, with one friend and an English servant; when the boat hadreached about four miles from the shore, the storm suddenly rose, andthe wind suddenly shifted. From excessive smoothness, all at once thesea was foaming, and breaking, and getting up in a heavy swell. Theboat is supposed to have filled to leeward, and (carry-ins: two tons ofballast) to have sunk instantaneously--all on board were drowned. Thebody of Shelley was washed on shore eight days afterwards, near ViaReggio, in an advanced state of decomposition, and was therefore burnedon a funeral pyre in the presence of Leigh Hunt, Lord Byron, Mr. Trelawney, and a Captain Shenley. 

Thus died Shelley in the mid day of life, and ere the warm sun of thatmid-day could dispel the clouds that had gathered round the morning ofhis career. The following comparison made between the personalappearance of Shelley and of Byron, by Gilfillan, has been called by DeQuincey "an eloquent parallel, " and we therefore conclude the presentnumber by quoting it:--

"In the forehead and head of Byron there is more massive power andbreadth: Shelley has a smooth, arched, spiritual expression; wrinklethere seems none on his brow; it is as if perpetual youth had theredropped its freshness. Byron's eye seems the focus of pride and lust:Shelley's is mild, pensive, fixed on you, but seeing you throughthe mist of his own idealism. Defiance curls on Byron's nostril, andsensuality steps his full large lips. The lower features of Shelley'sface are trail, feminine, flexible. --Byron's head is turned upwardsas if having risen proudly above his contemporaries, he were daringto claim kindred, or demand a contest with a superior order of beings. Shelley's is half bent, in reverence and humility, before some vastvision seen by his own eye alone. Misery erect, and striving to coverits retreat under an aspect of contemptuous fury, is the permanent andpervading expression of Byron's countenance. Sorrow, softened and shadedaway by hope and habit, lies like a 'holier day' of still moonshine uponthat of Shelley. In the portrait of Byron, taken at the age of nineteen, you see the unnatural age of premature passion; his hair is young, hisdress is youthful, but his face is old. In Shelley you see the eternalchild, none the less that his hair is grey, and that sorrow seems halfhis immortality. "

"I. "

CLAUD ARIAN HELVETIUS. 

If France, at the present day, has not reason to be proud of its"leading man, " it has in former times produced those minds that shedlustre upon the country, and who, by their literature, add immortalityto its renown. During the eighteenth century, when religious persecutionand intolerance were rampant throughout Europe, France furnished men tocheck oppression and expose superstition, while others followed tolay the foundation of excellence and greatness in the examination andcultivation of its true source--the mind. Heivetius sought to directmen's attention to self-examination, and to show how many disputes mightbe avoided if each person understood _what_ he was disputing about. "Helvetius on the Mind" is a work that ought to be read widely, andstudied attentively, especially by "rising young men, " as it is one ofthose _Secular_ works too rarely found among our literature. 

Claud Arian Helvetius was born in Paris in the year 1715. After hispreparatory studies, he was sent to the College of Louis le Grand, having for his tutor the famous Poree, who bestowed additional attentionupon Heivetius, perceiving in him great talent and genius. Early in lifeHeivetius formed the friendship of some of the leading minds of France, Montesquieu being his intimate friend. Voltaire, too, sought hiscorrespondence when at the age of twenty-three, calling him his "YoungApollo, " and his "Son of Parnassus. " The first literary attempts ofHelvetius consisted of poetry--"Epistles on Happiness, " which appearedas a posthumous production, with the "lavish commendations" of Voltaire. After ten years' thought and study Helvetius in 1758, published awork entitled "De L'Esprit, " which brought upon him a great amount ofpersecution. The Parliament of Paris condemned it, and Helvetius wasremoved from the office he held of "Maitre d'Hotel to the Queen. "Voltaire remarks:--"it is a little extraordinary that they should havepersecuted, disgraced, and harassed, a much respected philosopher of ourdays, the innocent, the good Helvetius, for having said that if menhad been without hands they could not have built houses, or worked intapestry. Apparently those who have condemned this proposition, have asecret for cutting stones and wood, and for sewing with the feet. .. . Ihave no doubt that they will soon condemn to the galleys the first whoshall have the insolence to say, that a man cannot think without hishead; for, some bachelor will tell him, the soul is a pure spirit, thehead is nothing but matter: God can place the soul in the nails, as wellas in the skull, therefore I proscribe you as impious. "

During the persecution raised against him, Helvetius visited England in1764. In 1765 he visited Prussia, being well received by Frederick, in whose place he lodged. Voltaire strongly advised Helvetius to leaveFrance in these words:--"In your place, I should not hesitate a momentto sell all that I have in France; there are some excellent estates inmy neighborhood, and there you might cultivate in peace the arts youlove. " About this period Hume became acquainted with Helvetius, whomhe styles, in writing to Dr. Robertson, "a very fine genius and worthyman. " In 1765, Helvetius returned from Prussia, and retired to hisestate at Vore. The sight of misery much affected him; and whenrelieving distress, he enjoined strict secrecy. Sometimes, when told herelieved those undeserving his aid, he would say, "If I were a king Iwould correct them, but as I am only rich and they are poor, I do myduty in relieving them. " An attack of gout in the head and stomachterminated his life in December, 1771, in the fifty-sixth year of hisage. 

In "De L'Esprit, or, Essays on the Mind, " chap. I. . Helvetius makes thefollowing remarks on the "Mind considered in itself":--

"We hear every day disputes with regard to what ought to be called theMind; each person delivers his thoughts, but annexes different ideas tothe word; and thus the debate is continued, without understanding eachother. In order, therefore, to enable us to give a just and precise ideaof the word Mind, and its different acceptations, it is necessary firstto consider the Mind in itself. We consider the Mind either as theeffect of the faculty of thinking, and in this sense the Mind is nomore than an assemblage of our thoughts, or, we consider it as the veryfaculty of thinking. But in order to understand what is meant bythe Mind, in the latter acceptation, we ought previously to know theproductive causes of our ideas. Man has two faculties; or, if I may beallowed the expression, two passive powers whose existence is generallyand distinctly acknowledged. The one is the faculty of receiving thedifferent impressions caused by external objects, and is called PhysicalSensibility. The other is the faculty of preserving the impressionscaused by those objects, called Memory; and Memory is nothing more thana continued, but weakened sensation. --Those faculties which I consideras the productive causes of our thoughts, and which we have in commonwith beasts, would produce but a very small number of ideas, if theywere not assisted by certain external organizations. If Nature, insteadof hands and flexible fingers, had terminated our wrist with the footof a horse, mankind would doubtless have been totally destitute of art, habitation, and defence against other animals. Wholly employed in thecare of procuring food, and avoiding the beasts of prey, they would havestill continued wandering in the forests, like fugitive flocks. It istherefore evident that, according to this supposition, the police wouldnever have been carried in any society to that degree of perfection, towhich it is now arrived. There is not a nation now existing, but, withregard to the action of the mind, must not have continued very inferiorto certain savage nations, who have not two hundred different ideas, nor two hundred words to express those ideas; and whose language mustconsequently be reduced, like that of animals, to five or six differentsounds or cries, if we take from it the words bow, arrow, nets, etc. , which suppose the use of hands. From whence I conclude, that, without acertain exterior organization, sensibility and memory in us would provetwo sterile faculties. We ought to examine if these two faculties, bythe assistance of this organization, have in reality produced all ourthoughts. But; before we examine this subject, I may possibly be askedwhether these two faculties are modifications of a spiritual or amaterial substance? This question, which has formerly been so oftendebated by philosophers, and by some persons revived in our time, doesnot necessarily fall within the limits of my work. ---What I have tooffer, with regard to the Mind, is equally conformable to either ofthese hypothesis. I shall therefore only observe that, if the churchhad not fixed our belief in respect to this particular, and we hadbeen obliged by the light of reason alone to acquire a knowledge ofthe thinking, principle, we must have granted, that neither opinion iscapable of demonstration; and consequently that, by weighing the reasonson both sides, balancing the difficulties, and determining in favor ofthe greater number of probabilities, we should form only conditionaljudgments. It would be the fate of this problem, as it hath been of manyothers, to be resolvable only by the assistance of the calculation ofprobabilities. "

Helvetius, on the question "whether genius ought to be considered as anatural gift, or as an effect of education, " says:--

"I am going to examine in this discourse what the mind receives fromnature and education; for which purpose it is necessary first, todetermine what is here meant by the word Nature. This word may raise inour minds a confused idea of a being or a force that has endued us withall our senses: now the senses are the sources of all our ideas. Beingdeprived of our senses, we are deprived of all the ideas relative tothem: a man born blind has for this reason no idea of colors; it is thenevident that, in this signification, genius ought to be considered asa gift of nature. But, if the word be taken in a different acceptation, and we suppose that among the men well formed and endued with all theirsenses, without any perceivable defect of their organization, naturehas made such a remarkable difference, and formed such an unequaldistribution of the intellectual powers, that one shall be so organizedas to be stupid, and the other be a man of genius, the question willbecome more delicate. I confess that, at first, we cannot consider thegreat inequality in the minds of men, without admitting that there isthe same difference between them as between bodies, some of which areweak and delicate, while others are strong and robust. What canhere occasion such variations from the uniform manner wherein natureoperates? This reasoning, it is true, is founded only on analogy. It islike that of the astronomers who conclude that the moon is inhabited, because it is composed of nearly the same matter as our earth. --How weaksoever this reasoning may be, it must yet appear demonstrative; for, say they, to what cause can be attributed the great disproportion ofintellects observable between people who appear to have had the sameeducation! In order to reply to this objection, it is proper firstto inquire, whether several men can, strictly speaking, have the sameeducation; and for this purpose to fix the idea included in the wordEducation. If by education we merely understand that received in thesame places, and under the same masters; in this sense the education isthe same with an infinite number of men. But, if we give to this worda more true and extensive signification, and in general comprehendeverything that relates to our instruction; then I say, that nobodyreceives the same education; because each individual has, for hispreceptors, if I may be allowed to say so, the form of government underwhich he lives, his friends, his mistresses, the people about him, whatever he reads, and in short chance; that is, an infinite numberor events, with respect to which our ignorance will not permit us toperceive their causes, and the chain that connects them together. Now, this chance has a greater share in our education than is imagined. Itis this places certain objects before us, and in consequence ofthis, occasions more happy ideas, and sometimes leads to the greatestdiscoveries. To give some examples: it was chance that conducted Galileointo the gardens of Florence, when the gardeners were working the pumps:it was that which inspired those gardeners, when, not being able toraise the water above the height of 32 feet, to ask him the cause, andby that question piqued the vanity of the philosopher, put in action byso casual a question, that obliged him to make this natural effect thesubject of his thoughts, till, at last, by discovering the weight ofthe air, he found the solution of the problem. In the moment when thepeaceful soul of Newton was employed by no business, and agitated byno passion, it was also chance that, drawing him under an apple tree, loosened some of the fruit from the branches, and gave that philosopherthe first idea of his system on gravitation: it was really this incidentthat afterwards made him turn his thoughts to inquire whether the moondoes not gravitate towards the earth with the same force as that withwhich bodies fall on its surface? It is then to chance that greatgeniuses are frequently obliged for their most happy thoughts. How manygreat minds are confounded among the people of moderate capacities forwant of a certain tranquillity of soul, the question of a gardener, orthe fall of an apple!"

Of the "exclusive qualities of the Mind and Soul, " Helvetius observes:--

"My view in the preceding chapters was to affix clear ideas to theseveral qualities of the mind, I propose in this to examine if there aretalents that must necessarily exclude each other? This question, it issaid, is determined by facts; no person is, at the same time, superiorto all others in many different kinds of knowledge. Newton is notreckoned among the poets, nor Milton among the geometricians: the versesof Leibnitz are bad. There is not a man who, in a single art, as poetry, or painting, has succeeded in all the branches of it. Corneille andRacine have done nothing in comedy comparable to Molière: MichaelAngelo has not drawn the pictures of Albani, nor Albani painted thoseof Julius Romano. The genius of the greatest men appears then to beconfined within very narrow limits. This is, doubtless, true: but I ask, what is the cause? Is it time, or is it wit, which men want to renderthemselves illustrious in the different arts and sciences? The progressof the human mind, it is said, ought to be the same in all the arts andsciences: the operations of the mind are reduced to the knowledge of theresemblances and differences that subsist between various objects. It isthen by observation that we obtain, in all the different kinds of study, the new and general ideas on which our superiority depends. Every greatphysician, every great chemist, may then become a great geometrician, a great astronomer, a great politician, and the first, in short, in allthe sciences This fact being stated, it will doubtless be concluded, that it is the short duration of human life that forces superiorminds to limit themselves to one kind of study. It must, however, beconfessed, that there are talents and qualities possessed only by theexclusion of some others. Among mankind some are filled with the loveof glory, and are not susceptible of any other of the passions: some mayexcel in natural philosophy, civil law, geometry, and, in short, in allthe sciences that consist in the comparison of ideas. A fondness for anyother study can only distract or precipitate them into errors. Thereare other men susceptible not Only of the love of glory, but an infinitenumber of other passions: these may become celebrated in differentkinds of study, where the success depends on being moved. Such is, for instance, the dramatic kind of writing: but, in order to paint thepassions, we must, as I have already said, feel them very warmly: we areignorant both of the language of the passions and of the sensations theyexcite in us, when we have not experienced them. Thus ignorance of thiskind always produces mediocrity. If Fontenelle had been obliged to paintthe characters of Rhadamistus, Brutus, or Cataline, that great man wouldcertainly have fallen much below mediocrity. .. . Let a man, for instance, like M. De Fontenelle, contemplate, without severity, the wickednessof mankind; let him consider it, let him rise up against crimes withouthating the criminals, and people will applaud his moderation; and yet, at the same instant, they will accuse him of being too lukewarm infriendship. They do not perceive, that the same absence of the passions, to which he owes the moderation they commend, must necessarily renderhim less sensible of the charms of friendship. "

The "abuse of words" by different schools of philosophers is thus ablypointed out:--

"Descartes had before Locke observed that the Peripatetics, intrenchingthemselves behind the obscurity of words, were not unlike a blind man, who, in order to be a match for his clear-sighted antagonist, shoulddraw him into a dark cavern. 'Now, ' added he, 'if this man can introducelight into the cavern, and compel the Peripatetics to fix clear ideasto their words, the victory is his own. In imitation of Descartes andLocke, I shall show that, both in metaphysics and morality, the abuse ofwords, and the ignorance of their true import, is a labyrinth in whichthe greatest geniuses have lost themselves; and, in order to set thisparticular in a clear light, instance, in some of those words whichhave given rise to the longest and sharpest disputes among philosophers:such, in metaphysics, are Matter, Space, and Infinite. It has at alltimes been alternately asserted that Matter felt, or did not feel, andgiven rise to disputes equally loud and vague. It was very late beforeit came into the disputants! heads to ask one another, what they weredisputing about, and to annex a precise idea to the word Matter. Hadthey at first fixed the meaning of it, they would have perceived, ifI may use the expression, that men were the creators of Matter; thatMatter was not a being; that in nature there were only individuals towhich the name of Body had been given; and that this word Matter couldimport no more than the collection of properties common to all bodies. The meaning of this word being determined, all that remained was toknow, whether extent, solidity, and impenetrability, were the onlyproperties common to all bodies; and whether the discovery of a power, such for instance as attraction, might not give rise to a conjecturethat bodies had some properties hitherto unknown, such as that ofsensation, which, though evident only in the organized members ofanimals, might yet be common to all individuals! The question beingreduced to this, it would have appeared that if, strictly speaking, itis impossible to demonstrate that all bodies are absolutely insensible, no man, unless instructed by a particular revelation, can decide thequestion otherwise than by calculating and comparing the verisimilitudeof this opinion with that of the contrary. .. . "

Instructed by the errors of great men who have gone before us, we shouldbe sensible that our observations, however multiplied and concentrated, are scarcely sufficient to form one of those partial systemscomprehended in the general system; add that it is from the depth ofimagination that the several systems of the universe have hithertobeen drawn; and, as our informations of remote countries are alwaysimperfect, so the informations philosophers have of the system ofthe world are also defective. With a great genius and a multitude ofcombinations, the products of their labors will be only fictions tilltime and chance shall furnish then? with a general fact, to which allothers may be referred. 

"What I have said of the word Matter, I say also of Space. Most of thephilosophers have made a being of it; and the ignorance of the truesense of the word has occasioned long disputes. They would have beengreatly shortened by annexing a clear idea to this word; for then thesages would have agreed that Space, considered in bodies, is what wecall extension; that we owe the idea of a void, which partly composesthe idea of Space, to the interval seen betwixt two lofty mountains; aninterval which, being filled only by air, that is, by a body which at acertain distance makes no sensible impression on us, must have given usan idea of a vacuum; being nothing more than a power of representingto ourselves mountains separated from each other, and the interveningdistances not being filled by other bodies. With regard to the idea ofInfinite, comprehended also within the idea of Space, I say that we owethis idea of Infinite only to the power which a man standing on a plainhas of continually extending its limits, the boundary of his imaginationnot being determinable: the absence of limits is therefore the only ideawe can form of Infinite. Had philosophers, previously to their givingany opinion on this subject, determined the signification of the wordInfinite, I am inclined to believe they would have adopted the abovedefinition, and not spent their time in frivolous disputes. To the falsephilosophy of former ages, our gross ignorance of the true significationof words is principally owing; as the art of abusing them made up thegreatest part of that philosophy. This art, in which the whole scienceof the schools consisted, confounded all ideas; and the obscurityit threw on the expressions, generally diffused itself over all thesciences, especially morality. "

The following remarks show Helvetia's notions of the "love of glory":--

"By the word Strong-Passion, I mean a passion the object of which is sonecessary to our happiness, that without the possession of it life wouldbe insupportable. This was Omar's idea of the passion, when he said, 'Whoever thou art, that lovest liberty, desirest to be wealthy withoutriches, powerful without subjects, a subject without a master, dare tocondemn death: kings will then tremble before thee, whilst thou aloneshalt fear no person. '. .. . It was the passion of honor and philosophicfanaticism alone that could induce Timicha, the Pythagorean, in themidst of torture, to bite off her tongue, that she might not exposeherself to reveal the secrets of her sect. Cato, when a child, goingwith his tutor to Sylla's palace, at seeing the bloody heads of theproscribed, asked with impatience the name of the monster who had causedso many Roman citizens to be murdered. He was answered, it was Sylla:'How, ' says he, 'does Sylla murder thus, and is Sylla still alive?''Yes, ' it was replied, 'the very name of Sylla disarms our citizens. ''Oh! Rome, ' cried Cato, 'deplorable is thy fate, since within the vastcompass of thy walls not a man of virtue can be found, and the arm of afeeble child is the only one that will oppose itself against tyranny!'Then, turning towards his governor, 'Give me, ' said he, 'your sword; Iwill conceal it under my robe, approach Sylla, and kill him. Cato lives, and Rome is again free. ' If the generous pride, the passion ofpatriotism and glory, determine citizens to such heroic actions, withwhat resolution and intrepidity do not the passions inspire those whoaim at distinction in the arts and sciences, and whom Cicero calls thepeaceable heroes? It is from a desire of glory that the astronomer isseen, on the icy summits of the Cordileras, placing his instruments inthe midst of snows and frost; which conducts the botanist to the brinksof precipices in quest of plants; which anciently carried the juvenilelovers of ihe sciences into Egypt, Ethiopia, and even into the Indies, for visiting the most celebrated philosophers, and acquiring from theirconversation the principles of their doctrine. How strongly did thispassion exert itself in Demosthenes, who, for perfecting hispronunciation, used every day to stand on the sea-shore, and with hismouth full of pebbles harangue the agitated waves! It was from the samedesire of glory that the young Pythagoreans submitted to a silence ofthree years, in order to habituate themselves to recollection andmeditation; it induced Democritus to shun the distractions of the world, and retire among the tombs, to meditate on those valuable truths, thediscovery of which, as it is always very difficult, is also very littleesteemed; in fine, it was this that prompted Heraclitus to cede to hisyounger brother the throne of Ephesus, to which he had the right ofprimogeniture, that he might give himself up entirely to philosophy;which made the Athletic improve his strength, by denying himself thepleasures of love; it was also from a desire of popular applause thatcertain ancient priests renounced the same pleasures, and often, asBoindin pleasantly observes of them, without any other recompense fortheir continence than the perpetual temptation it occasions, . .. 'Thecause, ' says Cardinal Richelieu, 'why a timorous mind perceives animpossibility in the most simple projects, when to an elevated mind themost arduous seems easy, is, because, before the latter the mountainssink, and before the former mole-hills are metamorphosed intomountains. '"

The different motives that influence our conduct are thus stated:--

"A mother idolizes her son; 'I love him, ' says she, 'for his own sake. 'However, one might reply, you take no care of his education, thoughyou are in no doubt that a good one would contribute infinitely to hishappiness; why, therefore, do not you consult some men of sense abouthim, and read some of the works written on this subject? 'Why, because, 'says she, 'I think I know as much of this matter as those authorsand their works. ' But how did you get this confidence in your ownunderstanding? Is it not the effect of your indifference? An ardentdesire always inspires us with a salutary distrust of ourselves. If wehave a suit at law of considerable consequence, we visit counsellors andattorneys, we consult a great number, and examine their advice. Are weattacked by any of those lingering diseases, which incessantly placearound us the shades and horrors of death? We seek physicians, comparetheir opinions, read physical books, we ourselves become littlephysicians. Such is the conduct prompted by a warm interest. Withrespect to the education of children, if you are not influenced in thesame manner, it is because you do not love your son as well asyourself. 'But, ' adds the mother, 'what then should be the motive of mytenderness?' Among fathers and mothers, I reply, some are influenced bythe desire of perpetuating their name in their children; they properlylove only their names; others are fond of command, and see in theirchildren their slaves. The animal leaves its young when theirweakness no longer keeps them in dependence; and paternal love becomesextinguished in almost all hearts, when children have, by their age orstation, attained to independence. 'Then, ' said the poet Saadi, 'thefather sees nothing in them but greedy heirs, ' and this is the cause, adds some poet, of the extraordinary love of the grandfather for hisgrandchildren; he considers them as the enemies of his enemies. Thereare, in short, fathers and mothers, who make their children theirplaythings and their pastime. The loss of this plaything would beinsupportable to them; but would their affliction prove that they lovedthe child for itself? Everybody knows this passage in the life ofM. De Lauzun: he was in the Bastile; there, without books, withoutemployment, a prey to lassitude and the horrors of a prison, he took itin his head to tame a spider. This was the only consolation he hadleft in his misfortune. The governor of the Bastile, from an inhumanitycommon to men accustomed to see the unhappy, crushed the spider. Theprisoner felt the most cutting grief, and no mother could be affectedby the death of a son with a more violent sorrow. Now whence is derivedthis conformity of sentiments for such different objects? It is because, in the loss of a child, or in the loss of the spider, people frequentlyweep for nothing but for the lassitude and want of employment into whichthey fall. If mothers appear in general more afflicted at the death ofa child than fathers employed in business, or given up to the pursuitof ambition, it is not because the mother loves her child more tenderly, but because she suffers a loss more difficult to be supplied. Theerrors, in my opinion, are, in this respect, very frequent; peoplerarely cherish a child for its own sake. That paternal love of which somany men make a parade, and by which they believe themselves so warmlyaffected, is most frequently nothing more than an effect, either of adesire of perpetuating their names, or of pride of command. .. .. . Doyou not know that Galileo was unworthily dragged to the prison of theInquisition, for having maintained that the sun is placed in the centre, and does not move around the earth; that his system first offended theweak, and appeared directly contrary to that text of Scripture--'Sun, stand thou still?' However, able divines have since made Galileo'sprinciples agree with those of religion. Who has told you, that adivine more happy or more enlightened than you, will not remove thecontradiction, which you think you perceive between your religion, andthe opinion you resolve to condemn! Who forces you by a precipitatecensure to expose, if not religion, at least its ministers, to thehatred excited by persecution? Why, always borrowing the assistance offorce and terror, would you impose silence on men of genius, and deprivemankind of the useful knowledge they are capable of dispensing? Youobey, you say, the dictates of religion. But it commands you to distrustyourselves, and to love your neighbor. If you do not act in conformityto these principles, you are then not actuated by the spirit of God. But you say, by whom then are we inspired? By laziness and pride. Itis laziness, the enemy of thought, which makes you averse to thoseopinions, which you cannot, without study and some fatigue of attention, unite with the principles received in the schools; but which beingproved to be philosophically true, cannot be theologically false. It ispride, which is ordinarily carried to a greater height in the bigot thanin any other person, which makes him detest in the man of genius thebenefactor of the human race, and which exasperates him against thetruths discovered by humility. It is then this laziness and this pride, which, disguising themselves under the appearance of zeal, render themthe persecutors of men of learning; and which in Italy, Spain, andPortugal, have forged chains, built gibbets, and held the torch to thepiles of the Inquisition. Thus the same pride, which is so formidable inthe devout fanatic, and which in all religions makes him persecute, inthe name of the Most High, the men of genius, sometimes arms againstthem the men in power. After the example of those Pharisees, who treatedas criminals the persons who did not adopt all their decisions, howmany viziers treat, as enemies to the nation, those who do not blindlyapprove their conduct!"

J. W. 

FRANCES W. D'ARUSMONT. 

The previous issues of this publication contain notices of the lives andwritings of men of eminence in the world of Freethought. This numberis devoted to a review of the career and works of a most talented andaccomplished lady--a Freethinker and Republican. As a proof--if anyproof were needed--that women, if adequately educated, are equallycapable with men to become teachers and reformers, the works of thesubject of present notice afford abundant evidence. The efforts nowbeing made to procure an adjustment of the laws relating to women, whereby they will be protected in their property, and consequentlyimproved in their social position, deserve the support of all classes;When females become independent, there will be less ignorance amongwomen and more happiness among men. 

Frances Wright, afterwards Madame D'Arusmont, was a native of Dundee. She was born on the 6th of September, 1795. She came of a wealthyfamily, who had been extensive holders of city property from the year1500. Her father was a man of considerable literary attainments, and tohis active antiquarian researches and donations the British Museum isindebted for many rare and valuable coins and medals. He died young, asalso his wife, leaving three children--two girls and a boy. Franceswas then but two years and a half old. At the wish of her grandfather, General Duncan Campbell, she was taken to England, and reared as a wardof Chancery, under the guardianship of a maternal aunt. She grew to bevery tall in person, erect, and of a commanding figure; large eyes, andmagnificent head, with a face somewhat masculine, but well formed, and decidedly handsome. Her brother was sent to India, at the age offifteen, as a cadet in the East India Company's service, and was killedon the passage out in an encounter with a French vessel. Her sisterpassed her life with her, and died in Paris in 1831. 

At an early age, Miss Wright gave evidence of great intellectualability. The education she received was of a very superior kind. Shediligently applied herself to the various branches of science, and tothe study of ancient and modern letters and the arts, being impelled bya strong desire for knowledge. At the age of nineteen, she published herfirst work, "A Few Days in Athens. " Her attention was early drawn to thesufferings of the lower classes, and on reflection she became convincedthat some great vice lay at the foundation of the whole of humanpractice: She determined to endeavor to discover, and assist in removingit. She read Bocca's "History of the American Revolution, " and resolvedto visit that country, it appearing to her young imagination as theland of freedom and hope. --After having familiarised herself with thegovernment and institutions of America, she sailed for New York 1818. She returned to England in 1820, and published a large volume, entitled"Views of Society and Manners in America. " It was dedicated to JeremyBentham, and had a large sale. The work being translated into most ofthe continental languages, she became known to the prominent reformersof Europe. 

In 1821, she made her first visit to Paris, and was there introducedto General Lafayette, who, having previously read her work on America, invited her to that city. A republican in all her views and hopes, shewas highly appreciated by Lafayette and other eminent supporters of theliberal party in France. --She remained in Paris until 1824, when shereturned to the United States, and immediately undertook a project forthe abolition of slavery upon a plan somewhat different from any thatthen engaged the attention of philanthropists. For this purpose shepurchased two thousand acres of land at Chickasaw Bluffe, (nowMemphis, Tennessee), intending to make a good farm rather than a cottonplantation. She then purchased several slave families, gave them theirliberty, and removed them to the farm, residing there herself to directtheir labor. Commencing this novel undertaking with all that enthusiasmfor which she was remarkable, she continued the experiment some threeyears and a half, when her health gave way, and, suffering under severesickness, she made a voyage to Europe for her recovery. During herabsence, the farm got involved in difficulties by the influence of herenemies; and finally, the whole project falling through, the negroeswere sent off to Hayti at her expense. --She gave much time and money tothe carrying forward of this experiment; and though it was a failure, it strikingly exhibited her strong sympathy and benevolence for anoppressed and degraded class of beings. Returning from Europe, she wentto New Harmony (Indiana) to assume the proprietorship of a periodicalthe Harmony Gazette, which had been published under the direction ofRobert Dale Owen. In 1828, leaving Mr. Owen in charge of the paper, she began a lecturing tour through the Union; and probably no man, andcertainly no _woman_, ever met with such furious opposition. Her views, as announced in her paper, had made her generally known, and, beingsomewhat new and radically "anti-theological, " brought down upon herhead the rancor of religious bigotry. As no church or hall would beopened for her, she lectured in theatres; and her ability and eloquencedrew great audiences. On one occasion, while preparing to lecture ina theatre at Baltimore, she was threatened with the destruction of herlife if she attempted to speak. She calmly replied, that she thought sheknew the American people, and for every riotous fanatic that might annoyher, a hundred good citizens would protect her, and she was not afraidto place herself in their hands. She judged rightly. She went to thetheatre, which was crammed from pit to ceiling, and lectured to anadmiring and enthusiastic audience. In other cities she was not alwaysso fortunate; more or less rioting occurred, while the press, almostwithout exception, denounced her in the bitterest terms. Subsequently, her paper was removed to New York. Some years afterwards, she again madea lecturing tour, but this time she spoke on subjects of a politicalnature, and met with a better reception. In addition to lecturing, she conducted a political magazine, entitled the Manual of AmericanPrinciples, and was also engaged with Mr. Kneeland in editing the BostonInvestigator. She wrote a great deal, and upon many subjects. Amongher many works is a tragedy called "Altorf, " which was performed on thestage, the principal character being sustained by Mr. James Wallack. Her last work, of any considerable size, was entitled "England theCiviliser, " published in London in 1847. 

Madame D'Arusmont died suddenly in Cincinnati, on Tuesday, December 14, 1852, aged fifty-seven. She had been for sometime unwell, in consequenceof a fall upon the ice the previous winter, which broke her thigh, andprobably hastened her decease; but the immediate cause of her death wasthe rupture of a blood vessel. She was aware of her situation, knew whenshe was dying, and met her last hour with perfect composure. A daughter, her only child, survives her. 

In a small work entitled "Observations on Religion and Civilization, "are given the following "Definitions of Theology and Religion: in thewords and in the things signified. Origin and Nature of Theology:"--

"Theology from the Greek _theos, logos_, renders distinct the meaning ofthe subject it attempts to treat. --_Theos_, God, or Gods, unseen beingsand unknown causes. _Logos_, word, talk--or, if we like to employyet more familiar and expressive terms, prattle or chatter. _Talk, orprattle, about unseen beings or unknown causes_, The idleness of thesubject, and inutility--nay, absolute insanity of the occupation, sufficiently appears in the strict etymological meaning of the wordemployed to typify them. The danger, the mischief, the cruelly immoral, and, if I may be permitted to coin a word for the occasion, the_unhumanizing_ tendencies both of the subject and the occupation, whenand where these are (as they have for the most part ever been throughoutthe civilized world) absolutely protected by law and upheld bygovernment, sufficiently appear also from the whole page of history. Religion, from the Latin _religio, religio_, renders with equaldistinctness the things signified. _Religo_, to tie over again, to bindfast; _religio_, a binding together, a bond of union. The importance ofthe great reality, here so accurately shadowed out, appears sufficientlyin the etymological signification of the word. Its utility will beevident if we read, with intelligence, the nature, the past history, theactual condition, and the future destiny of man. But now, taking thesetwo things in the most strict etymological sense of the words whichexpress them, it will readily be distinguished that the first is anecessary creation of the _human intellect_ in a certain stage ofinquiry; the second, a necessary creation of the _human soul_ (by whichI understand both our intellectual and moral faculties taken conjointly)in any and every state of human civilization. Theology argues, in itsorigin, the first awakening of human attention to the phenomena ofnature, and the first crude efforts of human ingenuity to expound them. While man sees the sun and stars without observing either their diurnalor their annual revolutions; while he receives upon his frame the rainand the wind, and the varying elements, without observing either theireffects upon himself or upon the field of nature around him, he is asthe brute which suffers and enjoys without inquiring why it experienceslight or darkness, pain or pleasure. When first he puts, in awkwardlanguage, to himself or to his fellow, the question _why does such aneffect follow such a cause_? he commences his existence, if not as areasonable being, (a state at which he has not yet arrived) at least_as a being capable of reason_. The answer to this first inquiry ofawakening intelligence is, of course, such as his own circumscribedobservation supplies. --It is, in fine, in accordance with theexplanation of the old nurse to the child, who, asking, when startled bya rolling peal of thunder--'what makes that noise' was fully satisfiedby the reply: 'my darling, it is God Almighty overhead moving hisfurniture. ' Man awakening to thought, but still unfamiliar with theconcatenation of natural phenomena, inevitably conceives of some hugebeing, or beings, bestriding the clouds and whirlwind, or wheeling thesun and the moon like chariots through the blue vault. And so again, fancy most naturally peoples the gloom of the night with demons, thewoods and the waters with naiads and dryads, elves and fairies, thechurch-yard with ghosts, and the dark cave and the solitary cot withwizards, imps and old witches. Such, then, is theology in its origin;and, in all its stages, we find it varying in grossness according tothe degree of ignorance of the human mind; and, refining into verbalsubtleties and misty metaphysics in proportion as that mind exchanges, in its progress from darkness to light, the gloom of ignorance for themass of terror. "

The nature of belief in the unknowable, and the dire consequencesarising from fanaticism, are ably depicted in the following passages, selected from Lecture IV. , on "Religion:"--

"Admitting religion to be the most important of all subjects, its truthsmust be the most apparent; for we shall readily concede, both that athing true, must be always of more or less importance--and that a thingessentially important, must always be indisputably true. Now, again, Iconceive we shall be disposed to admit, that exactly in proportion tothe indisputability of a truth, is the proof it is capable of affording;and that, exactly in proportion to the proof afforded, is our admissionof such truth and belief in it. If, then, religion be the most importantsubject of human inquiry, it must be that also which presents the mostforcible, irrefragable, and indisputable truths to the inquirer. --Itmust be that on which the human mind can err the least, and where allminds must be the most agreed. If religion be at once a science, and themost true of all sciences, its truths must be as indisputable as thosein any branch of the mathematics--as apparent to all the senses as thoserevealed by the chemist or observed by the naturalist, and as easilyreferred to the test of our approving or disapproving sensations, asthose involved in the science of morals. .. . Is religion a science?Is it a branch of knowledge? Where are the _things known_ upon which itrests? Where are the accumulated facts of which it is compounded? Whatare the human sensations to which it appeals? Knowledge is compoundedof _things known_. It is an accumulation of facts gleaned by our senses, within the range of material existence, which is subject to theirinvestigation. .. . Now let us see where, in the table of knowledge, we may class religion. Of what part or division of nature, or materialexistence, does it treat? What bodies, or what properties of tangiblebodies, does it place in contact with our senses, and bring home to theperception of our faculties? It clearly appertains not to the table ofhuman knowledge, for it treats not of objects discoverable within thefield of human observation. 'No, ' will you say? 'but its knowledgeis superhuman, unearthly--its field is in heaven. ' My friends, theknowledge which is not human, is of slippery foundation to us humancreatures. Things _known_, constitute knowledge; and here is a sciencetreating of things unseen, unfelt, uncomprehended! Such cannot be_knowledge_. What, then, is it? Probability? possibility? theory?hypothesis? tradition? written? spoken? by whom? when? where? Let itsteachers--nay, let all earth reply! But what confusion of tongues andvoices now strike on the ear! From either Indies, from torrid Africa, from the frozen regions of either pole, from the vast plains of ancientAsia, from the fields and cities of European industry, from the palacesof European luxury, from the soft chambers of priestly ease, from thedomes of hierarchal dominion, from the deep cell of the self-immolatedmonk, from the stony cave of the self-denying anchorite, from thecloud-capt towers, spires, and minarets of the crescent and the cross, arise shouts, and hosannas, and anathemas, in the commingled namesof Brama, and Veeshnu, and Creeshna, and Juggernaut; heavenly kings, heavenly queens, triune deities, earth-born gods, heaven-born prophets, apotheosized monarchs, demon-enlightened philosophers, saints, angels, devils, ghosts, apparitions, and sorceries! But, worse than these soundswhich but stun the ear and confound the intellect, what sights, oh!human kind! appal the heart! The rivers of earth run blood! Nation setagainst nation! Brother against brother! Man against the companion ofhis bosom! and that soft companion, maddened with the frenzy of insaneremorse for imaginary crimes? fired with the rage of infatuated bigotry, or subdued to diseased helplessness and mental fatuity, renounceskindred, flies from social converse, and pines away a useless ormischievous existence in sighings and tremblings, spectral fears, uncharitable feelings and bitter denunciations! Such are thy doings, oh! religion! Or, rather, such are thy doings, oh! man! While standingin a world so rich in sources of enjoyment, so stored with objects ofreal inquiry and attainable knowledge, yet shutting thine eyes, and, worse, thine heart, to the tangible things and sentient creatures aroundthee, and winging thy diseased imagination beyond the light of the sunwhich gladdens thy world, and contemplation of the objects which arehere to expand thy mind and quicken the pulses of thy heart!. .. I willpray ye to observe how much of our positive misery originates in ouridle speculations in matters of faith, and in our blind, our fearfulforgetfulness of facts--our cold, heartless, and, I will say, _insane_indifference to visible causes of tangible evil, and visible sources oftangible happiness. Look to the walks of life, I beseech ye--look intothe public prints--look into your sectarian churches--look into thebosoms of families--look into your own bosoms, and those of your fellowbeings, and see how many of our disputes and dissensions, publicand private--how many of our unjust actions--how many of our harshjudgments--how many of our uncharitable feelings--spring out of ourignorant ambition to rend the veil which wraps from our human senses theknowledge of things unseen, and from our human faculties the conceptionof causes unknown? And oh! my fellow beings! do not these very words_unseen_ and _unknown_, warn the enthusiast against the profanity ofsuch inquiries, and proclaim to the philosopher their futility? Do theynot teach us that religion is no subject for instruction, and no subjectfor discussion? Will they not convince us that as beyond the horizon ofour observation we can know nothing, so within that horizon's theonly safe ground for us to meet in public?. .. Every day we see sectssplitting, creeds new modelling, and men forsaking old opinions only toquarrel about their opposites. 

"I see three Gods in one, says the Trinitarian, and excommunicates theSocinian, who sees a God-head in unity. I see a heaven but no hell, saysthe Universalist, and disowns fellowship with such as may distinguishless. 'I see a heaven and hell also, beyond the stars, ' said latelythe Orthodox friend, and expelled his shorter-sighted brethren from thesanctuary. I seek them both in the heart of man, said the more spiritualfollower of Penn, and straightway builded him up another temple, inwhich to quarrel with his neighbor, who perhaps only employs other wordsto express the same ideas. For myself, pretending to no insight intothese mysteries, possessing no means of intercourse with the inhabitantsof other worlds, confessing my absolute incapacity to see either as farback as a first cause, or as far forward as a last one, I am contentto state to you, my fellow creatures, that all my studies, reading, reflection, and observation, have obtained for me no knowledge beyondthe sphere of our planet, our earthly interests and our earthly duties;and that I more than doubt whether, should you expend all your time andall your treasure in the search, you will be able to acquire any betterinformation respecting unseen worlds and future events than myself. "

The philosophical romance, "A Few Days in Athens, " though the firstof Miss Wright's works, and written when she was very young, displaysconsiderable power and eloquence. It is the most pleasing of all herwritings. It is intended to portray the doctrines of Epicurus, and givesa picture of the Gargettian, in the "Gardens of the Academy, " surroundedby his pupils, calculated to counteract many of the popular anderroneous notions entertained of that philosopher's teachings. Thefollowing dialogue between Epicurus and his favorite, Theon, will affordthe readers of the "Half-Hours" an opportunity of judging how far MissWright has conveyed a truthful idea of Epicurus's ethical philosophy:--

"On leaving you, last night, " said Theon, "I encountered Cleanthes. Hecame from the perusal of your writings, and brought charges against themwhich I was unprepared to answer. "

"Let us hear them, my son; perhaps, until you shall have perused themyourself, we may assist your difficulty. "

"First, that they deny the existence of the Gods. "

"I see but one other assertion that could equal that in folly, " saidEpicurus. 

"I knew it, " exclaimed Theon, triumphantly, "I knew it was impossible. But where will not prejudice lead men, when even the uptight Cleanthesis capable of slander?"

"He is utterly incapable of it, " said the Master; "and the inaccuracy, in this case, I rather suspect to rest with you than with him. To _deny_the existence of the Gods would indeed be presumption in a 'philosopher;a presumption equalled only by that of him who should _assert_ theirexistence. "

"How!" exclaimed the youth, with a countenance in which astonishmentseemed to suspend every other expression. 

"As I never saw the Gods, my son, " calmly continued the Sage, "I cannot_assert_ their existence; and that I never saw them, is no reason formy _denying_ it. "

"But do we believe nothing except that of which we have oculardemonstration?"

"Nothing, at least, for which we have not the evidence of one or moreof our senses; that is, when we believe on just grounds, which I grant, taking men collectively, is very seldom. "

"But where would this spirit lead us! To impiety!--to Atheism!--toall, against which I felt confidence in defending the character andphilosophy of Epicurus!"

"We will examine presently, my son, into the meaning of the terms youhave employed. When you first entered the Garden your mind was unfit forthe examination of the subject you have now started: it is no longer so;and we will therefore enter upon the inquiry, and pursue it in order. "

"Forgive me if I express--if I acknowledge, " said the youth, slightlyrecoiling from his instructor, "some reluctance to enter on thediscussion of truths, whose very discussion would seem to argue a doubt, and"--

"And what then!"

"That very doubt were a crime. "

"If the doubt of any truth shall constitute a crime, then the belief ofthe same truth should constitute a virtue. "

"Perhaps a duty would rather express it!" "When you charge the neglectof any duty as crime, or account its fulfilment a virtue, you supposethe existence of a power to neglect or fulfil; and it is the exercise ofthis power, in the one way or the other which constitutes the merit ordemerit. Is it not so?"

"Certainly. "

"Does the human mind possess the power to believe or disbelieve, atpleasure, any truths whatsoever. "

"I am not prepared to answer: but I think it does, since it possessesalways the power of investigation. "

"But, possibly, not the will to exercise the power. Take care lestI beat you with your own weapons. I thought this very investigationappeared to you a crime?"

"Your logic is too subtle, " said the youth, "for my inexperience. "

"Say, rather, my reasoning too close. Did I bear you down with soundingwords and weighty authorities, and confound your understanding withhair-drawn distinctions, you would be right to retreat from thebattery. "

"I have nothing to object to the fairness of your deductions, " saidTheon. "But would not the doctrine be dangerous that should establishour inability to help our belief; and might we not stretch theprinciple, until we asserted our inability to help our actions?"

"We might, and with reason. But we will not now traverse the ethical_pons asinorum_ of necessity--the most simple and evident of mortaltruths, and the most darkened, tortured, and belabored by moralteachers. You inquire if the doctrine we have essayed to establish, benot dangerous. I reply--not, if it be true. --Nothing is so dangerousas error--nothing so safe as truth. A dangerous truth would be acontradiction in terms, and an anomaly in things. "

"But what is a truth?" said Theon. 

"It is pertinently asked. A truth I consider to be an ascertained fact;which truth would be changed to an error, the moment the fact, on whichit rested, was disproved. "

"I see, then, no fixed basis for truth. "

"It surely has the most fixed of all--the nature of things. And itis only an imperfect insight into that nature which occasions all ourerroneous conclusions, whether in physics or morals. "

"But where, if we discard the Gods and their will, as engraven on ourhearts, are our guides in the search after truth?"

"Our senses and our faculties as developed in and by the exercise of oursenses, are the only guides with which I am acquainted. And I do notsee why, even admitting a belief in the Gods, and in a superintendingProvidence, the senses should not be viewed as the guides provided bythem, for our direction and instruction. But here is the evil attendanton an ungrounded belief, whatever be its nature. The moment we take onething for granted, we take other things for granted; we are started ina wrong road, and it is seldom that we gain the right one, until we havetrodden back our steps to the starting place. I know but of one thingthat a philosopher should take for granted; and that only because heis forced to it by an irresistible impulse of his nature; and because, without doing so, neither truth nor falsehood could exist for him. Hemust take for granted the evidence of his senses; in other words, hemust believe in the existence of things, as they exist to his senses. I_know_ of no other existence, and can therefore _believe_ in no other:although, reasoning from analogy, I may _imagine_ other existences tobe. --This, for instance, I do as respects the Gods. I see around me, inthe world I inhabit, an infinite variety in the arrangement of matter--amultitude of sentient beings, possessing different kinds and varyinggrades of power and intelligence--from the worm that crawls in the dust, to the eagle that soars to the sun, and man who marks to the sun itscourse. It is possible, it is moreover probable, that, in the worldswhich I see not--in the boundless infinitude and eternal duration ofmatter, beings may exist, of every countless variety, and varying gradesof intelligence, inferior and superior to our own, until we descend toa minimum and rise to a maximum, to which the range of our observationaffords no parallel, and of which our senses are inadequate to theconception. Thus far, my young friend, 1 believe in the Gods, or in whatyou will of existences removed from the sphere of my knowledge. That youshould believe, with positiveness, in one unseen existence or another, appears to me no crime, although it may appear to me unreasonable; andso, my doubt of the same should appear to you no moral offence, althoughyou might account it erroneous. I fear to fatigue your attention, andwill, therefore, dismiss, for the present, these abstruse subjects. "

"But we shall both be amply repaid for their discussion, if this truthremain with you--that an opinion, right or wrong, can never constitute amoral offence, nor be in itself a moral obligation. It may be mistaken;it may involve an absurdity, or a contradiction. --It is a truth; or itis an error: it can never be a crime or a virtue. "--[Chapter xiv. ]

Miss Wright was a poetess, as well as a politician and writer on ethics. In her "Fourth of July" address, delivered in the New Harmony Hall, in1828, in commemoration of the American Independence, is the following:--

 "Is there a thought can fill the human mind More pure, more vast, more generous, more refined Than that which guides the enlightened patriot's toil? Not he whose view is bounded by his soil-- Not he whose narrow heart can only shrine The land, the people that he calleth mine-- Not he who, to set up that land on high, Will make whole nations bleed, whole nations die-- Not he who, calling that land's rights his pride, Trampleth the rights of all the earth beside. No! He it is, the just, the generous soul, Who owneth brotherhood with either pole, Stretches from realm to realm his spacious mind, And guards the weal of all the human kind-- Holds freedom's banner o'er the earth unfurl'd, And stands the guardian patriot of a world!"

J. W. 

EPICURUS

 Epicurean. --One who holds the principles of Epicurus-- Luxurious, contributing to luxury. 

 Epicurism--The principles of Epicurus--Luxury, sensual enjoyment, gross pleasure. 

The words with which this page is headed may be found in the current andestablished dictionaries of the present day; and it shall be our task toshow that never was slander more foul, calumny more base, or libel morecowardly, than when it associated the words luxury and sensuality withthe memory of the Athenian Epicurus. The much-worn anecdote of the briefendorsed "The Defendant has no case, abuse the Plaintiffs Solicitor, "will well apply here. The religionists had no case, the EpicureanPhilosophy was impregnable as far as theological attacks were concerned, and the theologians have, therefore, constantly and vehemently abusedits founder; so that, at last, children have caught the cry as though itwere the enunciation of a tact, and have grown into men believing thatEpicurus was a sort of discriminating hog, who wallowed in the filthwhich some have miscalled pleasure. 

Epicurus was born in the early part of the year 344, B. C, the thirdyear of the 109th Olympiad, at Gargettus, in the neighborhood of Athens. His father, Neocles, was of the Ægean tribe. Some allege that Epicuruswas born in the island of Samos; but, according to others, he was takenthere when very young by his parents, who formed a portion of a colonyof Athenian citizens, sent to colonize Samos after its subjugationby Pericles. The father and mother of Epicurus were in very humblecircumstances; his father was a schoolmaster, and his mother, Chærestrata, acted as a kind of priestess, curing diseases, exorcisingghosts, and exercising other fabulous powers. Epicurus has been chargedwith sorcery, because he wrote several songs for his mother's solemnrites. Until eighteen, he remained at Samos and the neighboring isle ofTeos; from whence he removed to Athens, where he resided until the deathof Alexander, when, disturbances arising, he fled to Colophon. Thisplace, Mitylene, and Lampsacus, formed the philosopher's residence untilhe was thirty-six years of age; at which time he founded a school in theneighborhood of Athens. He purchased a pleasant garden, where he taughthis disciples until the time of his death. 

We are told by Laertius, "That those disciples who were regularlyadmitted into the school of Epicurus, lived together, not in the mannerof the Pythagoreans, who cast their possessions into a common stock; forthis, in his opinion, implied mutual distrust rather than friendship;but upon such a footing of friendly attachment, that each individualcheerfully supplied the necessities of his brother. "

The habits of the philosopher and his followers were temperate andexceedingly frugal, and formed a strong contrast to the luxurious, although refined, manners of the Athenians. At the entrance of thegarden, the visitor of Epicurus found the following inscription:--"Thehospitable keeper of this mansion, where you will find pleasure thehighest good, will present you with barley cakes and water from thespring. These gardens will not provoke your appetite by artificialdainties, but satisfy it with natural supplies. Will you not, then, bewell entertained?" And yet the owner of the garden, over the gateof which these words were placed, has been called "a glutton" and "astomach worshipper!"

From the age of thirty-six until his decease, he does not seem to havequitted Athens, except temporarily. When Demetrius besieged Athens, theEpicureans were driven into great difficulties for want of food; and itis said that Epicurus and his friends subsisted on a small quantity ofbeans which he possessed, and which he shared equally with them. 

The better to prosecute his studies, Epicurus lived a life of celibacy. Temperate and continent himself, he taught his followers to be solikewise, both by example and precept. He died 273 B. C, in theseventy-third year of his age; and, at that time, his warmest opponentsseem to have paid the highest compliments to his personal character;and, on reading his life, and the detailed accounts of his teachings, itseems difficult to imagine what has induced the calumny which has beenheaped upon his memory. 

We "cannot quote from his own works, in his own words, because, althoughhe wrote very much, only a summary of his writings has come to usuninjured; but his doctrines have been so fully investigated and treatedon, both by his opponents and his disciples, that there is no difficultyor doubt as to the principles inculcated in the school of Epicurus. 

"The sum of his doctrine concerning philosophy, in general, isthis:--Philosophy is the exercise of reason in the pursuit andattainment of a happy life; whence it follows, that those studies whichconduce neither to the acquisition nor the enjoyment of happiness are tobe dismissed as of no value. The end of all speculation ought to be, toenable men to judge with certainty what is to be chosen, and what to beavoided, to preserve themselves free from pain, and to secure health ofbody, and tranquillity of mind. True philosophy is so useful to everyman, that the young should apply to it without delay, and the old shouldnever be weary of the pursuit; for no man is either too young or tooold to correct and improve his mind, and to study the art of happiness. Happy are they who possess by nature a free and vigorous intellect, and who are born in a country where they can prosecute their inquirieswithout restraint: for it is philosophy alone which raises a man abovevain fears and base passions, and gives him the perfect command ofhimself. As nothing ought to be dearer to a philosopher than truth, heshould, pursue it by the most direct means, devising no actions himself, nor suffering himself to be imposed upon by the fictions of others, neither poets, orators, nor logicians, making no other use of therules of rhetoric or grammar, than to enable him to speak or write withaccuracy and perspicuity, and always preferring a plain and simple to anornamented style. Whilst some doubt of everything, and others professto acknowledge everything, a wise man will embrace such tenets, andonly such as are built upon experience, or upon certain and indisputableaxioms. "

The following is a summary of his Moral Philosophy:--

"The end of living, or the ultimate good, which is to be sought for itsown sake, according to the universal opinion of mankind, is happiness;yet men, for the most part, fail in the pursuit of this end, eitherbecause they do not form a right idea of the nature of happiness, orbecause they do not make use of proper means to attain it. Since it isevery man's interest to be happy through the whole of life, it is thewisdom of every one to employ philosophy in the search of felicitywithout delay; and there cannot be a greater folly, than to be alwaysbeginning to live. 

"The happiness which belongs to man, is that state in which he enjoysas many of the good things, and suffers as few of the evils incidentto human nature as possible; passing his days in a smooth course ofpermanent tranquillity. A wise man, though deprived of sight or hearing, may experience happiness in the enjoyment of the good things whichyet remain; and when suffering torture, or laboring under some painfuldisease, can mitigate the anguish by patience, and can enjoy, inbis afflictions, the consciousness of bis own constancy. But it isimpossible that perfect happiness can be possessed without the pleasurewhich attends freedom from pain, and the enjoyment of the good things oflife. Pleasure is in its nature good, as pain is in its nature evil; theone is, therefore, to be pursued, and the other to be avoided, for itsown sake. --Pleasure, or pain, is not only good, or evil, in itself, but the measure of what is good or evil, in every object of desire oraversion; for the ultimate reason why we pursue one thing, and avoidanother, is because we expect pleasure from the former, and apprehendpain from the latter. If we sometimes decline a present pleasure, it isnot because we are averse to pleasure itself, but because we conceive, that in the present instance, it will be necessarily connected with agreater pain. In like manner, if we sometimes voluntarily submit to apresent pain, it is because we judge that it is necessarily connectedwith a greater pleasure. --Although all pleasure is essentially good, andall pain essentially evil, it doth not thence necessarily follow, thatin every single instance the one ought to be pursued, and the other tobe avoided; but reason is to be employed in distinguishing and comparingthe nature and degrees of each, that the result may be a wise choice ofthat which shall appear to be, upon the whole, good. That pleasure isthe first good, appears from the inclination which every animal, fromits first birth, discovers to pursue pleasure, and avoid pain; and isconfirmed by the universal experience of mankind, who are incitedto action by no other principle than the desire of avoiding pain, orobtaining pleasure. There are two kinds of pleasure: one consisting ina state of rest, in which both body and mind are undisturbed by any kindof pain; the other arising from an agreeable agitation of the senses, producing a correspondent emotion in the soul. It is upon the formerof these that the enjoyment of life chiefly depends. Happiness maytherefore be said to consist in bodily ease, and mental tranquillity, When pleasure is asserted to be the end of living, we are not then tounderstand that violent kind of delight or joy which arises from thegratification of the senses and passions, but merely that placid stateof mind, which results from the absence of every cause of pain oruneasiness. Those pleasures, which arise from agitation, are not to bepursued as in themselves the end of living, but as means of arriving atthat stable tranquillity, in which true happiness consists. It is theoffice of reason to confine the pursuit of pleasure within the limitsof nature, in order to the attainment of that happy state, in whichthe body is free from every kind of pain, and the mind from allperturbation. This state must not, however, be conceived to be perfectin proportion as it is inactive and torpid, but in proportion as allthe functions of life are quietly and pleasantly performed. A happy lifeneither resembles a rapid torrent, nor a standing pool, but is like agentle stream, that glides smoothly and silently along. 

"This happy state can only be obtained by a prudent care of the body, and a steady government of the mind. The diseases of the body are to beprevented by temperance, or cured by medicine, or rendered tolerableby patience. Against the diseases of the mind, philosophy providessufficient antidotes. The instruments which it employs for this purposeare the virtues; the root of which, whence all the rest proceed, isprudence. This virtue comprehends the whole art of living discreetly, justly, and honorably, and is, in fact, the same thing with wisdom. Itinstructs men to free their understandings from the clouds of prejudice;to exercise temperance and fortitude in the government of themselves:and to practice justice towards others. Although pleasure, or happiness, which is the end of living, be superior to virtue, which is only themeans, it is every one's interest to practice all the virtues; for in ahappy life, pleasure can never be separated from virtue. 

"A prudent man, in order to secure his tranquillity, will consult hisnatural disposition in the choice of his plan of life. If, for example, he be persuaded that he should be happier in a state of marriage than incelibacy, he ought to marry; but if he be convinced that matrimony wouldbe an impediment to his happiness, he ought to remain single. In likemaimer, such persons as are naturally active, enterprising, andambitious, or such as by the condition of their birth are placed in theway of civil offices, should accommodate themselves to their nature andsituation, by engaging in public affairs; while such as are, fromnatural temper, fond of leisure and retirement, or, from experience orobservation, are convinced that a life of public business would beinconsistent with their happiness, are unquestionably at liberty, exceptwhere particular circumstances call them to the service of theircountry, to pass their lives in obscure repose. 

"Temperance is that discreet regulation of the desires and passions, bywhich we are enabled to enjoy pleasures without suffering any consequentinconvenience. They who maintain such a constant self-command, as neverto be enticed by the prospect of present indulgence, to do that whichwill be productive of evil, obtain the truest pleasure by decliningpleasure. Since, of desires some are natural and necessary; othersnatural, but not necessary; and others neither natural nor necessary, but the offspring of false judgment; it must be the office of temperanceto gratify the first class, as far as nature requires: to restrain thesecond within the bounds of moderation; and, as to the third, resolutelyto oppose, and, if possible, entirely repress them. 

"Sobriety, as opposed to inebriety and gluttony, is of admirable use inteaching men that nature is satisfied with a little, and enabling themto content themselves with simple and frugal fare. Such a manner ofliving is conducive to the preservation of health: renders a man alertand active in all the offices of life; affords him an exquisite relishof the occasional varieties of a plentiful board, and prepares him tomeet every reverse of fortune without the fear of want. 

"Continence is a branch of temperance, which prevents the diseases, infamy, remorse, and punishment, to which those are exposed, whoindulge themselves in unlawful amours. Music and poetry, which are oftenemployed as incentives to licentious pleasure are to be cautiously andsparingly used. 

"Gentleness, as opposed to an irrascible temper, greatly contributesto the tranquillity and happiness of life, by preserving the mind fromperturbation, and arming it against the assaults of calumny and malice. A wise man, who puts himself under the government of reason, will beable to receive an injury with calmnese, and to treat the person whocommitted it with lenity; for he will rank injuries among the casualevents of life, and will prudently reflect that he can no more stop thenatural current of human passions, than he can curb the stormy winds. Refractory servants in a family should be chastised, and disorderlymembers of a state punished without wrath. 

"Moderation, in the pursuit of honors or riches, is the only securityagainst disappointment and vexation. A wise man, therefore, will preferthe simplicity of rustic life to the magnificence of courts. Futureevents a wise man will consider as uncertain, and will, therefore, neither suffer himself to be elated with confident expectation, nor tobe depressed by doubt and despair: for both are equally destructive oftranquillity. It will contribute to the enjoyment of life, to considerdeath as the perfect termination of a happy life, which it becomes us toclose like satisfied guests, neither regretting the past, nor anxious forthe future. 

"Fortitude, the virtue which enables us to endure pain, and to banishfear, is of great use in producing tranquillity. Philosophy instructs usto pay homage to the gods, not through hope or fear, but from venerationof their superior nature. It moreover enables us to conquer the fearof death, by teaching us that it is no proper object of terror; since, whilst we are, death is not, and when death arrives, we are not: sothat it neither concerns the living nor the dead. The only evils tobe apprehended are bodily pain, and distress of mind. Bodily pain itbecomes a wise man to endure with patience and firmness; because, if itbe slight, it may easily be borne; and if it be intense, it cannotlast long. Mental distress commonly arises not from nature, but fromopinion; a wise man will therefore arm himself against this kind ofsuffering, by reflecting that the gifts of fortune, the loss of whichhe may be inclined to deplore, were never his own, but depended uponcircumstances which he could not command. If, therefore, they happento leave him, he will endeavor, as soon as possible, to obliterate theremembrance of them, by occupying his mind in pleasant contemplation, and engaging in agreeable avocations. 

"Justice respects man as living in society, and is the common bondwithout which no society can subsist. This virtue, like the rest, derives its value from its tendency to promote the happiness oflife. Not only is it never injurious to the man who practices it, butnourishes-in his mind calm reflections and pleasant hopes; whereas it isimpossible that the mind in which injustice dwells, should not be fullof disquietude. --Since it is impossible that iniquitous actions shouldpromote the enjoyment of life, as much as remorse of conscience, legalpenalties, and public disgrace, must increase its troubles, every onewho follows the dictates of sound reason, will practice the virtues ofjustice, equity, and fidelity. In society, the necessity of the mutualexercise of justice, in order to the common enjoyment of the gifts ofnature, is the ground of those laws by which it is prescribed. It isthe interest of every individual in a state to conform to the laws ofjustice; for by injuring no one, and rendering to every man his due, hecontributes his part towards the preservation of that society, upon theperpetuity of which his own safety depends. Nor ought any one to thinkthat he is at liberty to violate the rights of his fellow citizens, provided he can do it securely; for he who has committed an unjustaction can never be certain that it will not be discovered; and howeversuccessfully he may conceal it from others, this will avail him little, since he cannot conceal it from himself. In different communities, different laws may be instituted, according to the circumstances ofthe people who compose them. Whatever is thus prescribed is to beconsidered as a rule of justice, so long as the society shall judge theobservance of it to be for the benefit of the whole. But whenever anyrule of conduct is found upon experience not to be conducive to thepublic good, being no longer useful, it should no longer be prescribed. 

"Nearly allied to justice are the virtues of beneficence, compassion, gratitude, piety, and friendship. --He who confers benefits upon others, procures to himself the satisfaction of seeing the stream of plentyspreading around him from the fountain of his beneficence; at the sametime, he enjoys the pleasure of being esteemed by others. The exerciseof gratitude, filial affection, and reverence for the gods, isnecessary, in order to avoid the hatred and contempt of all men. Friendships are contracted for the sake of mutual benefit; but bydegrees they ripen into such disinterested attachment, that they arecontinued without any prospect of advantage. Between friends there is akind of league, that each will love the other as himself. A true friendwill partake of the wants and sorrows of his friend, as if they were hisown; if he be in want, he will relieve him; if he be in prison, he willvisit him; if he be sick, he will come to him; nay-situations may occur, in which he would not scruple to die for him. It cannot then be doubted, that friendship is one of the most useful means of procuring a secure, tranquil, and happy life. "

No man will, we think, find anything in the foregoing summary to justifythe foul language used against Epicurus, and his moral philosophy; thesecret is in the physical doctrines, and this secret is, that Epicuruswas actually, if not intentionally, an Atheist. The following is asummary of his physical doctrine:--

"Nothing can ever spring from nothing, nor can anything ever return tonothing. The universe always existed, and will always remain; for thereis nothing into which it can be changed. There is nothing in Nature, norcan anything be conceived, besides body and space. Body is that whichpossesses the properties of bulk, figure, resistance, and gravity: it isthis alone which can touch or be touched. Space is the region whichis, or may be, occupied by body, and which affords it an opportunity ofmoving freely. That there are bodies in the universe is attested bythe senses. That there is also space is evident; since otherwise bodieswould have no place in which to move or exist, and of their existenceand motion we have the certain proof of perception. Besides these, nothird nature can be conceived; for such a nature must either have bulkand solidity, or want them; that is, it must either be body or space:this does not, however, preclude the existence of qualities, which haveno subsistence but in the body to which they belong. 

"The universe, consisting of body and space, is infinite, for it hasno limits. Bodies are infinite in multitude; space is infinite inmagnitude. The term above, or beneath, high or low, cannot beproperly applied to infinite space. The universe is to be conceived asimmoveable, since beyond it there is no place into which it can move;and as eternal and immutable, since it is neither liable to increasenor decrease, to production nor decay. Nevertheless, the parts of theuniverse are in motion, and are subject to change. 

"All bodies consist of parts, of which they are composed, and intowhich they may be resolved; and these parts are either themselves simpleprinciples, or may be resolved into such. These first principles, or simple atoms, are divisible by no force, and, therefore, must beimmutable. This may also be inferred from the uniformity of Nature, which could not be preserved if its principles were not certainand consistent. The existence of such atoms is evident, since it isimpossible that anything which exists should be reduced to nothing. Afinite body cannot consist of parts infinite, either in magnitude ornumber; divisibility of bodies _ad infinitum_, is thereforeconceivable. All atoms are of the same nature, or differ in no essentialqualities--From their different effects upon the senses, it appears, however, that they differ in magnitude, figure, and weight. Atoms existin every possible variety of figure--round, oval, conical, cubical, sharp, hooked, etc. But in every shape, they are, on account of theirsolidity, infrangible, or incapable of actual division. 

"Gravity must be an essential property of atoms; for since they areperpetually in motion, or making an effort to move, they must be movedby an internal impulse, which may be called gravity. 

"The principle of gravity, that internal energy which is the cause ofall motion, whether simple or complex, being essential to the primarycorpuscles or atoms, they must have been incessantly and from eternityin actual motion. "

Epicurus, who boasts that he was an inquirer and a philosopher in histhirteenth year, was scarcely likely to bow his mind to the mythology ofhis country. The man who, when he was but a schoolboy, insisted upon ananswer to the question, "Whence came chaos?" could hardly be expectedto receive as admitted facts the fabulous legends as to Jupiter and theother gods. His theology is, however, in some respects, obscure, andunintelligible; for while he zealously opposed the popular fables, whichmen misname God-ideas, he at the same time admitted the existence ofmaterial gods, whom he placed in the intervals between the infiniteworlds, where they passed a life undisturbed by aught, and enjoyed ahappiness which does not admit of augmentation. These inactive gods playa strange part in the system of Epicurus; and it is asserted by manythat these extraordinary conceptions of Deity were put forward by thephilosopher to screen him from the consequences attaching to a charge ofAtheism. Dr. Heinrich Ritter, who does not seem very friendly disposedtowards Epicurus, or his philosophy, repudiates this notion, and arguesEpicurus was not in truth an Atheist, and alleges that it was a merepretence on his part; and that from his very theory of knowledge theexistence of gods could be deduced. This has been much litigated, (videElectric Review for 1806, p. 606. ) It is quite evident that Epicurusneither regarded "the gods" in the capacity of Creators, controllers, orrulers, so that his Theism (if it be Theism) twas not of a verysuperstitious character. The God who neither created man, nor exercisedany influence whatever over his actions or thinkings, could have butlittle to do with man at all. 

If we attempt to review the whole of the teachings of Epicurus, we andthey are defective and imperfect in many respects, and necessarily so. We say necessarily so, because the imperfect science of the day limitedthe array of facts presented to the philosopher, and narrowed the baseupon which he was to erect his system. We must expect, therefore, tofind the structure weak in many points, because it was too large forthe foundation; but we are not, therefore, to pass it on one side, andwithout further notice; it should rather be our task to lay good, wide, and sure foundations, On which to build up a system, and develope amethod, really having, for its end, the happiness of mankind. We live2000 years later than the Athenian philosopher. --In those 2000 yearsmany facts have been dragged out of "the circle of the unknown andunused. " Astronomy, geology, physiology, psychology--all except theologyare belter understood. Men pretend they are searching after happiness, and where do they try to find it? Not here amongst the known, but in thepossible hereafter amongst the unknowable. How do they try to find it?Not by the aid of the known, not by the light of facts, gathered inyears of toil, and sanctified by the blood of some of the noblestof truth's noble martyrs; no--but in the darkness of the unknown andunknowable; in the next world. Question the men who fly to theologyfor happiness, and they will tell you that the most learned of thetheologians sum up their knowledge in the word "incomprehensible. " Is itwonderful that their happiness is somewhat marred "here" by quarrelsas to the true definition of "hereafter?" G. H. Lewes says, of theEpicurean philosophy, "that the attempt failed because the basis wasnot broad enough. The Epicureans are therefore to be regarded as men whoventured on a great problem, and failed because they only saw partof the truth. " And we might add that Christianity, and every otherreligious "anity, " fails, because the professors expect to obtainhappiness in the next life, and neglect to work for it in the presentone. 

Epicurus says, no life can be pleasant except a virtuous life; and hecharges you to avoid whatever maybe calculated to create disquiet in themind, or give pain to the body. The Rev. Habbakuk Smilenot, of littleBethel, says that all pleasure here, is vanity and vexation in thehereafter; and he charges you to continually worry and harass your mindwith fears that you may be condemned to hell, and doubts whether youwill be permitted to enter heaven. Which is the best, the philosophy ofEpicurus, or the theology of Smilenof?

G. H. Lewes says:--"Epicureanism, in leading man to a correctappreciation of the moral end of his existence, in showing him how tobe truly happy, has to combat with many obstructions which hide fromhim the real road of life. These obstructions are his illusions, hisprejudices, his errors, his ignorance. This ignorance is of two kinds, as Victor Cousin points out; ignorance of the laws of the externalworld, which creates absurd superstitions, and troubles the mind withfalse fears and false hopes. Hence the necessity of some knowledge ofphysics. " (We can scarcely blame Epicurus that he was not in advance ofhis time, as far as the physical sciences are concerned, and thereforeimparted an imperfect system of physics. We must, with our improvedknowledge, ourselves remove the obstruction. ) "The second kind ofignorance is that of the nature of man. Socrates had taught men toregard their own nature as the great object of investigation; and thislesson Epicurus willingly gave ear to. --But man does not interrogate hisown nature out of simple curiosity, or simple erudition; he studieshis nature in order that he may improve it; he learns the extent ofhis capacities, in order that he may properly direct them. The aim, therefore, of all such inquiries must be happiness. "

We may add that the result of all such inquiries will be happiness, ifthe inquirer will but base his investigation and experiments uponfacts. Let him understand that, as he improves the circumstances whichsurround him, so will he advance himself, becoming happier, and makinghis fellows happy also. Remember the words of Epicurus, and seek thatpleasure for yourself which appears the most durable, and attended withthe greatest pleasure to your fellow men. 

"I"

ZENO, THE STOIC

In the previous number we gave a short sketch of the opinions ofEpicurus. In this we shall deal with the founder of a rival sect--theStoics. Amongst the disciples and students in the Stoic schools havebeen many illustrious names, and not the least worthy is the name withwhich we are now dealing. 

Zeno was born at Cittius, a small maritime town in the Island of Cyprus. This place having been originally peopled by a colony of Phoenicians, Zeno is sometimes called a Phoenician; but at the period when heflourished, it was chiefly inhabited by Greeks. The date of his birth isuncertain, but must have been about the year B. C. 362. His father was amerchant, and Zeno appears to have been, in the early part of his life, engaged in mercantile pursuits. He received a very liberal educationfrom his father, whom, we are told, perceived in his son a stronginclination for philosophical studies, and who purchased for Zeno thewritings of the Socratic philosophers; which were studied with avidity, and which undoubtedly exercised a considerable influence over his futurethinkings. When about thirty years of age, he made a trading voyage fromCittius to Athens, with a very valuable cargo of Phoenician purple, butwas unfortunately shipwrecked on the coast of Greece, and the whole ofhis freight destroyed. It is supposed that this severe loss, which musthave considerably reduced his means, materially influenced Zeno, andinduced him to embrace the tenets of the Cynics, whose leading principlewas a contempt of riches. We are told that upon is first arrival inAthens, he went into the shop of a bookseller, and took up, by accident, a volume of the "Commentaries of Xenophon. " Alter reading a few pages, Zeno was so much delighted with the work, that he asked the booksellerto direct him where he might meet such men as the author? Crates, theCynic philosopher, passed by at the time, and the bookseller said, "Follow that man!" He did so, and after listening to several of hisdiscourses, was so pleased with the doctrines of the Cynics, thathe became a disciple. He did not long remain attached to the Cynicschool--their peculiar manners were too gross for him; and his energeticand inquiring mind was too much cramped by that indifference to allscientific investigation which was one of their leading characteristics. He therefore sought instruction elsewhere, and Stilpo, of Megara, becamehis teacher, from whom he acquired the art of disputation, in whichhe afterwards became so proficient. The Cynics were displeased at hisfollowing other philosophy, and we are told that Crates attempted todrag him by force out of the school of Stilpo, on which Zeno said, "Youmay seize my body, but Stilpo has laid hold of my mind. " The Megaricdoctrine was, however, insufficient. Zeno was willing to learn all thatStilpo could teach, but having learned all, his restless and insatiableappetite for knowledge required more, and after an attendance of severalyears upon the lectures of Stilpo, he passed over to the expositors ofPlato, Xenocrates, and Polemo. The latter philosopher appears to havepenetrated Zeno's design in attending the various schools--_i. E. _, tocollect materials from various quarters for a new system of his own;and when he came to the school, Polemo said, "I am no stranger, Zeno, toyour Phoenician arts; I perceive that your design is to creep slily intomy garden, and steal away my fruit. " After twenty years of study, havingmastered the tenets of the various schools, Zeno determined to becomethe founder of a sect himself. In accordance with this determination, heopened a school in a public portico, called the Painted Porch, from thepictures of Polygnotus, and other eminent painters, with which itwas adorned. This portico became famous in Athens, and was called(Stoa)---the Porch. From this Stoa the school derived its name, thestudents being called the Stoics. Zeno was a subtle reasoner, andexceedingly popular. He taught a strict system of morals and exhibiteda pleasing picture of moral discipline in his own life. As a man, his character appears deserving of the highest respect. He becameexceedingly respected and revered at Athens for the probity and severityof bis life and manners, and consistency thereof with his doctrine. Hepossesed so large a share of public esteem that the Athenians decreedhim a golden crown, and on account of his approved integrity, depositedthe keys of their citadel in his hands. Antigouus Gonates, King ofMacedon, was a constant attendant at his lectures whilst at Athens, and when that monarch returned, he earnestly invited Zeno to his court. During the philosopher's lifetime, the Athenians erected a statue ofbrass as a mark of the estimation in which they held him. 

Zeno lived to the extreme age of ninety-eight, when, as he was leaving, his school one day, he fell and broke his finger. The consciousness ofhis infirmity afflicted him so much, that he exclaimed, "Why am I thusimportuned? Earth, I obey thy summons!" and immediately going home, heput his affairs in order, and strangled himself. In person, Zeno wastall and slender; his brow was furrowed with thought; and this, withhis long and close application to study, gave a tinge of severity to hisaspect. Although of a feeble constitution, he preserved his health byhis great abstemiousness, his diet consisting of figs, bread, and honey. He was plain and modest in his dress and habits and very frugal in allhis expenses, showing the same respect for the poor as for the rich, andconversing as freely with the slave as he did with the king. Independentin spirit, he broke off all communication with his friend Democharis, because that person had offered to procure a gratuity for Zeno fromthe King of Macedon. His system appears to have been little more than acollection from his various lessons of whatever was most in unison withhis peculiar habit of thought, and an attempt to reconcile and combinein one system the various elements of different theories. Taking fromso many schools various portions of their doctrine, he seems to haveprovoked the antagonism of many of his contemporaries, and severalphilosophers of learning and ability employed their eloquence todiminish the growing influence of the new school. Towards the close ofhis life, he found a powerful antagonist in the person of Epicurus, andthe Epicureans and Stoics have since treated each other as rival sects. Zeno's school appears to have been generally a resort for the poor, andit was a common joke amongst his adversaries, that poverty was the charmfor which he was indebted for his scholars. The list of his disciples, however, contains the names of some very rich and powerful men, whomay have regarded the Stoic theory as a powerful counter-agent to thegrowing effeminacy of the age. After Zeno's death, the Athenians, atthe request of Antigonus, erected a monument to his memory, in theCeramicura. 

From the particulars which have been related concerning Zeno, it willnot be difficult to perceive what kind of influence his circumstancesand character must have had upon his philosophical system. If hisdoctrines be diligently compared with the history of his life, it willappear, that having attended upon many eminent preceptors, and beingintimately conversant with their opinions, he compiled, out of theirvarious tenets, an heterogeneous system, on the credit of which heassumed to himself the title of the founder of a new sect. .. . Thedialectic arts which Zeno learned in the school of Diodorus Chronus, he did not fail to apply to the support of his own system, and tocommunicate to bis followers. As to the moral doctrine of the Cynicsect, to which Zeno strictly adhered to the last, there can be no doubtthat he transferred it almost without alloy, into his own school. Inmorals, the principal difference between the Cynics and the Stoics was, that the former disdained the cultivation of nature, the latter affectedto rise above it. On the subject of physics, Zeno received his doctrinethrough the channel of the Platonic school, as will fully appear froma careful comparison of their respective systems. The Stoic philosophy, being in this manner of heterogeneous origin, it necessarily partook ofthe several systems of which it was composed. The idle quibbles, jejunereasonings, and imposing sophisms, which so justly exposed the schoolsof the dialectic philosophers to ridicule, found their way into thePorch, where much time was wasted, and much ingenuity thrown away, uponquestions of no importance. Cicero censures the Stoics for encouragingin their schools a barren kind of disputation, and employing themselvesin determining trifling questions, in which the disputants can have nointerest, and which, at the close, leave them neither wiser nor better. And that this censure, is not, as some modern advocates for Stoicismhave maintained, a mere calumny, but grounded upon fact, sufficientlyappears from what is said by the ancients, particularly by SextusEmpiricus, concerning the logic of the Stoics. Seneca, who was himselfa Stoic, candidly acknowledges this. It may, perhaps, be thoughtsurprising that philosophers, who affected so much gravity andwisdom, should condescend to such trifling occupations. But it must beconsidered, that, at this time, a fondness for subtle disputations sogenerally prevailed in Greece, that excellence in the arts of reasoningand sophistry was a sure path to fame. The Stoics, with whom vanitywas unquestionably a ruling passion, were ambitious for this kind ofreputation. Hence it was that they engaged with so much vehemencein verbal contests, and that they largely contributed towards theconfusion, instead of the improvement, of science, by substituting vagueand ill-defined terms in the room of accurate conceptions. The moralpart of the Stoical philosophy, in like manner, partook of the defectsof its origin. It may be as justly objected against the Stoics as theCynics, that they assumed an artificial severity of manners, and a toneof virtue above the condition of a man. Their doctrine of moral wisdomwas an ostentatious display of words, in which little regard was paidto nature and reason. It professed to raise human nature to a degree ofperfection before unknown; but its real effect was, merely to amusethe ear, and captivate the fancy, with fictions which can neverbe realized. .. . The extravagancies and absurdities of the Stoicalphilosophy may also be in some measure ascribed to the vehement contestswhich subsisted between Zeno and the Academics on the one hand, andbetween him and Epicurus on the other. For, not only did these disputesgive rise to many of the dogmas of Stoicism, but led Zeno and hisfollowers, in the warmth of controversy, to drive their arguments to theutmost extremity, and to express themselves with much greater confidencethan they would probably otherwise have done. This is, perhaps, thetrue reason why so many extravagant notions are ascribed to the Stoics, particularly upon the subject of morals. Whilst Epicurus taught hisfollowers to seek happiness in tranquillity, Zeno imagined his wise man, not only free from all sense of pleasure, but void of all passions andemotions, and capable of being happy in the midst of torture. That hemight avoid the position taken by the Epicureans, he had recourse toa moral institution, which bore indeed the lofty front of wisdom, butwhich was elevated far above the condition and powers of human nature. The natural disposition of Zeno, and his manner of life, had, moreover, no inconsiderable influence in fixing the peculiar character of hisphilosophy. By nature severe and morose, and constitutionally inclinedto reserve and melancholy, he early cherished this habit by submittingto the austere ami rigid discipline of the Cynics. Those qualitieswhich he conceived to be meritorious in himself, and which he found toconciliate the admiration of mankind, he naturally transferred to hisimaginary character of a wise or perfect man. 

In order to form an accurate judgment concerning the doctrine ofthe Stoics, besides a careful attention to the particulars alreadyenumerated, it will be necessary to guard with the utmost cautionagainst two errors, into which several writers have fallen. Great careshould be taken, in the first place, not to judge of the doctrine of theStoics from words and sentiments, detached from the general system, butto consider them as they stand, related to the whole train of premisesand conclusions. .. . The second caution is, not to confound the genuinedoctrines of Zeno, and other ancient fathers of this sect, with theglosses of the later Stoics. .. . Out of the many proofs of this change, which might be adduced, we shall select one, which is the more worthyof notice, as it has occasioned many disputes among the learned. Thedoctrine we mean is that concerning fate. This doctrine, according toZeno and Chrysippus, implies an eternal and immutable series of causesand effects, within which all events are included, and to which theDeity himself is subject: whereas, the later Stoics, changing the termfate into the Providence of God, discoursed with great plausibilityon this subject, but still in reality retained the ancient doctrine ofuniversal fate. From this example, a judgment may be formed concerningthe necessity of using some caution, in appealing to the writings ofSeneca, Antoninus, and Epictetus, as authorities, in determining whatwere the original doctrines of the Stoic philosophers. 

Concerning philosophy in general, the doctrine of the Stoics was, that wisdom consists in the knowledge of things divine and human; thatphilosophy is such an exercise of the mind as produces wisdom; thatin this exercise consists the nature of virtue; and consequently, that virtue is a term of extensive meaning, comprehending the rightemployment of the mind in reasoning, in the study of nature, and inmorals. The wisdom of the Stoics is either progressive, through severalstages; or perfect, when every weakness if subdued, and every errorcorrected, without the possibility of a relapse into folly, or vice, orof being again enslaved by any passion, or afflicted by any calamity. With Socrates and the Cynics, Zeno represented virtue as the only truewisdom; but being disposed to extend the pursuits of his wise man intothe regions of speculation and science, he gave, after his usual manner, a new signification to an old term, and comprehended the exercise of theunderstanding in the search of truth, as well as the government ofthe appetites and passions, under the general term, virtue. The greatimportance of the united exercise of the intellectual and activepowers of the mind, are thus beautifully asserted by the philosophicalemperor:--"Let every one endeavor so to think and act, that hiscontemplative and active faculties may at the same time be going ontowards perfection. His clear conceptions, and certain knowledge, willthen produce within him an entire confidence in himself, unperceivedperhaps by others, though not affectedly concealed, which will give asimplicity and dignity to his character; for he will at all times beable to judge, concerning the several objects which come before him, what is their real nature, what place they hold in the universe, howlong they are by nature fitted to last, of what materials they arecomposed, by whom they may be possessed, and who is able to bestow them, or take them away. " The sum of the definitions and rules given bythe Stoics concerning logic is this:--Logic is either rhetorical ordialectic. Rhetorical logic is the art of reasoning and discoursing onthose subjects which require a diffuse kind of declamation. Dialectic isthe art of close argumentation in the form of disputation or dialogue. The former resembles an open, the latter, a closed hand. --Rhetoric isof three kinds, deliberative, judicial, and demonstrative. The dialecticart is the instrument of knowledge, as it enables a man to distinguishtruth from error, and certainty from bare probability. This artconsiders things as expressed by words, and words themselves. Externalthings are perceived by a certain impression, made either upon someparts of the brain, or upon the percipient faculty, which may be calledan image, since it is impressed upon the mind, like the image of a sealupon wax. 

This image is commonly accompanied with a belief of the reality of thething perceived; but not necessarily, since it does not accompanyevery image, but those only which are not attended with any evidenceof deception. Where only the image is perceived by itself, the thingis apprehensible; where it is acknowledged and approved as the imageof some real thing, the impression is called apprehension, because theobject is apprehended by the mind as a body is grasped by the hand. Suchapprehension, if it will bear the examination of reason, is knowledge;if it is not examined, it is mere opinion; if it will not bear thisexamination, it is misapprehension. The senses, corrected by reason, give a faithful report; not by affording a perfect apprehension ofthe entire nature of things, but by leaving no room to doubt of theirreality. Nature has furnished us with these apprehensions, as theelements of knowledge, whence further conceptions are raised in themind, and a way is opened for the investigations of reason. Someimages are sensible, or received immediately through the senses; othersrational, which are perceived only in the mind. These latter are callednotions, or ideas. Some images are probable, to which the mind assentswithout hesitation; others improbable, to which it does not readilyassent; and others doubtful, where it is not entirely perceived, whetherthey are true or false. True images are those which arise from thingsreally existing, and agree with them. False images, or phantasms, areimmediately derived from no real object. Images are apprehendedby immediate perception, through the senses, as when we see a man;consequentially, by likeness, as when from a portrait we apprehend theoriginal; by composition, as when, by compounding a horse and man, weacquire the image of a Centaur; by augmentation, as in the image of aCyclops; or by diminution, as in that of a pigmy. Judgment is employedeither in determining, concerning particular things, or concerninggeneral propositions. In judging of things we make use of some one ofour senses, as a common criterion or measure of apprehension, by whichwe judge whether a thing is, or is not; or whether or not it existswith certain properties; or we apply to the thing, concerning which ajudgment is to be formed, some artificial measure, as a balance, a rule, etc. , or we call in other peculiar measures to determine things notperceptible by the senses. In judging of general propositions, we makeuse of our pre-conceptions, or universal principles, as _criteria_, ormeasures of judgment. The first impressions from the senses produce inthe mind an involuntary emotion; but a wise man afterwards deliberatelyexamines them, that he may know whether they be true or false, andassents to, or rejects them, as the evidence which offers itself tohis understanding appears sufficient or insufficient. This assent, orapprobation, will indeed be as necessarily given, or withheld, accordingto the ultimate state of the proofs which are adduced, as the scales ofa balance will sink or rise, according to the weights which are placedupon them; but while the vulgar give immediate credit to the reports ofthe senses, wise men suspend their assent, till they have deliberatelyexamined the nature of things, and carefully estimated the weightof evidence. The mind of man is originally like a blank leaf, whollywithout characters, but capable of receiving any. The impressions whichare made upon it, by means of the senses, remain in the memory, afterthe objects which occasioned them are removed; a succession of thesecontinued impressions, made by similar, objects, produces experience;and hence arises permanent notions, opinions, and knowledge. Evenuniversal principles are originally formed by experience from sensibleimages. All men agree in their common notions or preconceptions;disputes only arise concerning the application of these to particularcases. 

Let us pass on to the Stoical doctrine concerning nature. According toZeno and his followers, there existed from eternity a dark and confusedchaos, in which was contained the first principles of all future beings. This chaos being at length arranged, and emerging into variable forms, became the world, as it now subsists. The world, or nature, is thatwhole which comprehends all things, and of which all thing are partsand members. The universe, though one whole, contains two principles, distinct from elements, one passive, the other active. The passiveprinciple is pure matter without qualities; the active principleis reason, or God. This is the fundamental doctrine of the Stoicsconcerning nature. .. . The Stoical system teaches, that both the activeand passive principles in nature are corporeal, since whatever acts orsuffers must be so. The efficient cause, or God, is pure ether, or fire, inhabiting the exterior surface of the heavens, where every thingwhich is divine is placed. This ethereal substance, of divine fire, comprehends all the vital principles by which individual beings arenecessarily produced, and contains the forms of things, which from thehighest regions of the universe, are diffused through every other partof nature. Seneca, indeed, calls God incorporeal reason; but by thisterm he can only mean to distinguish the divine ethereal substance fromgross bodies; for, according to the Stoics, whatever has a substantialexistence is corporeal; nothing is incorporeal, except that infinitevacuum which surrounds the universe; even mind and voice are corporeal, and, in like manner, Deity. Matter, or the passive principle, in theStoical system, is destitute of all qualities, but ready to receive anyform, inactive, and without motion, unless moved by some external cause. The con =trary principle, or the ethereal operative fire, being active, and capable of producing all things from matter, with consummateskill, according to the forms which it contains, although in its naturecorporeal, considered in opposition to gross and sluggish matter, orto the elements, is said to be immaterial and spiritual. For want ofcarefully attending to the preceding distinction, some writers have beenso far imposed upon, by the bold innovations of the Stoics in the use ofterms, as to inter from the appellations which they sometimes applyto the Deity, that they conceived him to be strictly and properlyincorporeal. The truth appears to be, that, as they sometimes spoke ofthe soul of man, a portion of the Divinity, as an exceedingly rare andsubtle body, and sometimes as a warm or fiery spirit, * so they spokeof the Deity as corporeal, considered as distinct from the incorporealvacuum, or infinite space; but as spiritual, considered in opposition togross and inactive matter. They taught, indeed, that God is underived, incorruptible, and eternal, possessed of intelligence, good and perfect, the efficient cause of all the peculiar qualities or forms of things;and the constant preserver and governor of the world; and they describedthe Deity under many noble images, and in the most elevated language. The hymn of Cleanthes, in particular, is justly admired for the grandeurof its sentiments, and the sublimity of its diction. But if in readingthese descriptions, we hastily associate with them modern conceptionsof Deity, and neglect to recur to the leading principles of the sect, weshall be led into fundamental misapprehensions of the true doctrine ofStoicism. For according to this sect. God and matter are alike underivedand eternal, and God is the former of the universe in no other sensethan as he has been the necessary efficient cause, by which motion andform have been impressed upon matter. 

What notions the Stoics entertained of God sufficiently appears fromthe single opinion of his finite nature; an opinion which necessarilyfollowed from the notion that he is only a part of a spherical, andtherefore a finite universe. On the doctrine of divine providence, whichwas one of the chief points upon which the Stoics disputed with theEpicureans, much is written, and with great strength and elegance, bySeneca, Epictetus, and other later Stoics. But we are not to judge ofthe genuine and original doctrine of this sect from the discourses ofwriters who had probably corrupted their language on this subject, byvisiting the Christian school. The only way to form an accurate judgmentof their opinions concerning Providence, is to compare their popularlanguage upon this head with their general system, and explain theformer consistently with the fundamental principles of the latter. 

If this be fairly done, it will appear that the agency of Deity is, according to the Stoics, nothing more than the active motion of acelestial ether, or fire, possessed of intelligence, which at first gaveform to the shapeless mass of gross matter, and being always essentiallyunited to the visible world by the same necessary agency, preserves itsorder and harmony. 

The Stoic idea of Providence is, not that of a being, wholly independentof matter, freely directing and governing all things, but that of anecessary chain of causes and effects, arising from the action of apower, which is itself a part of the existence which it regulates, andwhich equally with that existence is subject to the immutable law ofnecessity. Providence, in the Stoic creed, is only another name forabsolute necessity, or fate, to which God and matter, or the universe, which consists of both, is immutably subject. The rational, efficient, and active principle in nature, the Stoics called by various names:Nature, fate, Jupiter, God. 

"What is nature, " says Seneca, "but God; the divine reason, inherent inthe whole universe, and in all its parts? or you may call him, if youplease, the author of all things. "

And again: "Whatever appellations imply celestial power and energy, maybe justly applied to God; his names may properly be as numerous as hisoffices, " The term nature, when it is at all distinguished in the Stoicsystem from God, denotes not a separate agent, but that order of thingswhich is necessarily produced by his perpetual agency. Since the activeprinciple of nature is comprehended within the world, and with mattermakes one whole, it necessarily follows that God penetrates, pervades, and animates matter, and the things which are formed from it; or, inother words, that he is the soul of the universe. 

The universe is, according to Zeno and his followers, "a sentientand animated being. " Nor was this a new tenet, but, in some sort, thedoctrine of all antiquity. Pythagoras, Heraclitus, and after these, Zeno, taking it for granted that there is no real existence which isnot corporeal, conceived nature to be one whole, consisting of a subtleether and gross matter, the former the active, the latter the passiveprinciple, as essentially united as the soul and body of man that is, they supposed God, with respect to nature, to be, not a co-existing, butan informing principle. 

Concerning the second principle in the universe, matter, and concerningthe visible world, the doctrine of the Stoics is briefly this:--Matteris the first essence of all things, destitute of, but capable ofreceiving, qualities. Considered universally, it is an eternal whole, which neither increases nor decreases. Considérée! with respect toits parts, it is capable of increase or diminution, of collision andseparation, and is perpetually changing. Bodies are continually tendingtowards dissolution; matter always remains the same. Matter is notinfinite, but finite, being circumscribed by the limits of the world;but its parts are infinitely divisible. The world is spherical in itsform; and is surrounded by an infinite vacuum. The action of the divinenature upon matter first produced the element of moisture, and then theother elements, fire, air, and earth, of which all bodies are composed. Air and fire have essential levity, or tend towards the exterior surfaceof the world; earth and water have essential gravity, or tend towardsthe centre. All the elements are capable of reciprocal conversion; airpassing into fire, or into water; earth into air and water; but thereis this essential difference among the elements, that fire and airhave within themselves a principle of motion, while water and earth aremerely passive. .. . The world, including the whole of nature, God and matter, subsisted from eternity, and will for ever subsist; butthe present regular frame of nature had a beginning, and will havean end. The parts tend towards a dissolution, but the whole remainsimmutably the same. The world is liable to destruction from theprevalence of moisture, or of dryness; the former producing a universalinundation, the latter a universal conflagration. These succeed eachother in nature as regularly as winter and summer. When the universalinundation takes place, the whole surface of the earth is covered withwater, and all animal life is destroyed; after which, nature is renewedand subsists as before, till the element of fire, becoming prevalent inits turn, dries up all the moisture, converts every substance into itsown nature, and at last, by a universal conflagration, reduces the worldto its pristine state. At this period, all material forms are lost inone chaotic mass: all animated nature is re-united to the Deity, andnature again exists in its original form, as one whole, consisting ofGod and matter. From this chaotic state, however, it again emerges, bythe energy of the efficient principle, and gods, and men, and all theforms of regulated nature, are renewed, and to be dissolved and renewedin endless succession. The above is collated from Ritter, Enfield, and Lewes, as a specimen of one of the earlier phases of Freethought. Freethought as then expressed had many faults and flaws, but it hasgrown better every day, extending and widening its circle of utterance, and we hope that it will continue to do so. 

"I. "

MATTHEW TINDAL. 

It is easy to mark the progress of the age by recurring to the historyof past Freethinkers. Bishops, established and dissenting, are nowrepeating the parts the old Deiste played. _They_ were sadly treated forsetting the example, modern divines follow with applause. 

Matthew Tindal was an example of this. He labored to establish religionon the foundation of Reason and Nature. It was to be expected thatChristians would be pleased at efforts which would have no effect butto strengthen its foundations. The effort was met by reprobation, andresented as an injury. It is but a just retaliation that believersshould now have to establish in vain that evidence they once denounced. 

Matthew Tindal was an English Deistical writer, who was born atBeer-Terres, in Devonshire, 1656. --His father, it appears, was aclergyman, who held the living of Beer-Terres, presented to him by theUniversity of Cambridge, in the time of the Civil Wars. --Young Matthewwas educated at Oxford, where at twenty-eight he took the degree ofLL. D. Matthew Tindal, LL. D. , was early tossed about by the winds ofdoctrine. First he embraced Romanism: afterwards he became a Protestant. Then politics interested him, and he engaged in controversy on the sideof William III. He was appointed Commissioner of a Court for TryingForeigners. In 1693 he published an essay on the Law of NationsWhen fifty-four, in 1710, he entered so vigorously into theologicalcontroversy, arising out of Trinitarian criticism, that his markedsatire led to his books being condemned by the House of Commons, andburnt by the hangman. He resented this indignity by a spirited attack onthe dominant priestly party in his "High Church Catechism, " and he alsowrote in defence of philosophical necessity. But his most notable workwas the performance of his old age, his "Christianity as Old as theCreation: or, the Gospel, a Republication of the Religion of Nature. "This was produced in his seventy-third year. He was attacked in Replyby Bishop Waterland. It is generally agreed that in point of good spiritand good temper the Bishop was far inferior to the Deist. Dr. ConyersMiddleton, says Thomas Cooper, in his brief sketch of Tindal, appearedin defence of Tindal in a "Letter to Dr. Waterland, " whom he condemnedfor the shallowness of his answer to Tindal, and boldly and franklyadmitted that the Freethinker was right in asserting that the Jewsborrowed some of their ceremonies and customs from Egypt; that allegorywas, in some cases, employed in the Scriptures, where common readerstook the relation for fact; and, that the Scriptures are _not_ of"absolute and universal inspiration. " The following sentence, which willbe found in this "Letter" of Dr. Conyers Middleton, does honor to hisname:--"If religion consists in depreciating moral duties and depressingnatural reason; if the duty of it be to hate and persecute fora different way of thinking where the best and wisest have neveragreed--then. I declare myself an Infidel, and to have no share in thatreligion. " Matthew Tindal died at his house in Coldbath Fields, of thestone, 1773, aged seventy-seven. * Rysbrach, the famous statuary, took amodel of him. 

 * Julian Hibbert gives 1656-7: Dr. Beard, 1556; Thomas Cooper, 1657, as the year of Tindal's birth. All agree that he died 1733--he was therefore seventy-six or seventy-seven at the time of his death. 

Tindal opens his great work thus:--"The author makes no apology forwriting on a subject of the last importance; and which, as far as I canfind, has no where been so fully treated: he builds nothing on a thingso uncertain as tradition, which differs in most countries; and ofwhich, in all countries, the bulk of mankind are incapable of judging;but thinks he has laid down such plain and evident rules, as mayenable men of the meanest capacity, to distinguish between religion andsuperstition; and has represented the former in every part so beautiful, so amiable, and so strongly affecting, that they, who in the leastreflect, must be highly in love with it; and easily perceive, that theirduty and happiness are inseparable. "

The character of the performance will be seen from a few of thepropositions he maintains:--

"That God, at all times, has given mankind sufficient means of knowingwhatever he requires of them. 

"That the religion of nature consists in observing those things, whichour reason, by considering the nature of God and man, and the relationwe stand in to him, and one another, demonstrates to be our duty; andthat those things are plain; and likewise what they are. 

"That the perfection and happiness of all rational beings, supremeas well as subordinate, consist in living up to the dictates of theirnature. 

"That God requires nothing for his own sake; no, not the worship we areto render him, nor the faith we are to have in him. 

"That the not adhering to those notions reason dictates, concerningthe nature of God, has been the occasion of all superstition, and thoseinnumerable mischiefs, that mankind, on the account of religion, havedone either to themselves, or one another. 

"The bulk of mankind, by their reason, must be able to distinguishbetween religion and superstition; otherwise they can never extricatethemselves from that superstition they chance to be educated in. "

Tindal deals with the question of the obscurity of Revelation in theseterms, sufficiently salient to alarm the very proper divines of thatday:--

"Had God, from time to time, spoken to all mankind in their severallanguages, and his words had miraculously conveyed the same ideas toall persons; yet he could not speak more plainly than he has done by thethings themselves, and the relation which reason shows there isbetween them. Nay, since it is impossible in any book, or books, thata particular rule could be given for every case, we must even then havehad recourse to the light of nature to teach us our duty in most cases;especially considering the numberless circumstances which attend us, andwhich, perpetually varying, may make the same actions, according as menare differently affected by them, either good or bad. And I may add, that most of the particular rules laid down in the gospel for ourdirection, are spoken after such figurative a manner, that except wejudge of their meaning, not merely by the letter, but by what the lawof nature antecedently declares to be our duty, they are apt to leadus wrong. And if precepts relating to morality are delivered after anobscure manner, when they might have been delivered otherwise; whatreason can you assign, for its being so, but that infinite wisdom meantto refer us to that law for the explaining them? Sufficient instancesof this nature I shall give you hereafter, though I must own, Icannot carry this point so far as a learned divine, who represents theScriptures more obscure (which one would think impossible) than even thefathers. He tells us, 'that a certain author (viz. , Flaccus Illyricus)has furnished us with one-and-fifty reasons for the obscurity of theScriptures;' adding, 'I think I may truly say that the writing of theprophets and apostles abound with tropes, and metaphors, types, andallegories, parables, and dark speeches; and are as much, nay, much moreunintelligible in many places, than the writings of the ancients. ' Itis well this author, who talks of people being stark Bible-mad, stoppedhere; and did not with a celebrated wit * cry, 'The truly illuminatedbooks are the darkest of all. ' The writer above mentioned supposes itimpossible, that God's will should be fully revealed by books; 'except, 'says he, 'it might be said perhaps without a figure, that even the worlditself could not contain the books which should be written. ' But withsubmission to this reverend person, I cannot help thinking, but that(such is the divine goodness) God's will is so clearly and fullymanifested in the Book of Nature, that he who runs may read it. "

 * Dean Swift--"Tale of a Tub. "

In the next extract we make, we find Tindal quoting two strikingpassages from Lord Shaftesbury, followed by an acute vindication of theintegrity of the Law of Nature over the Scriptures:--

"Had the heathen distinguished themselves by creeds made out of spiteto one another, and mutually persecuted each other about the worship oftheir gods, they would soon have made the number of their votaries asfew as the gods they worshipped; but we don't find (except in Egypt, that mother-land of superstition) that they ever quarrelled about theirgods; though their gods sometimes quarrelled, and fought about theirvotaries. By the universal liberty that was allowed by the ancients, 'Matters (as a noble author observes) were so balanced, that reason hadfair play; learning and science flourished; wonderful was the harmonyand temper which arose from these contrarieties. Thus superstition andenthusiasm were mildly treated; and being let alone, they never ragedto that degree as to occasion bloodshed, wars, persecutions, anddevastations; but a new sort of policy has made us leap the bounds ofnatural humanity, and out of a supernatural charity, has taught us theway of plaguing one another most devoutly. It has raised an antipathy, that no temporal interest could ever do, and entailed on us a mutualhatred to all eternity. And savage zeal, with meek and pious semblance, works dreadful massacre; and for heaven's sake (horrid pretence) makesdesolate the earth. ' And further, Shaftesbury observes, 'The Jupiterof Strangers, was, among the ancients, one of the solemn charactersof divinity, the peculiar attribute of the supreme deity; benign tomankind, and recommending universal love, mutual kindness, and benignitybetween the remotest and most unlike of the human race. Such was theancient heathen charity and pious duty towards the whole of mankind;both those of different nations and different worship. But, good God!how different a character do bigots give us of the Deity, making him anunjust, cruel, and inconsistent Being; requiring all men to judge forthemselves, and act according to their consciences; and yet authorizingsome among them to judge for others, and to punish them for not actingaccording to the consciences of those judges, though ever so muchagainst their own. These bigots thought they were authorized to punishall those that differ with them in their religious worship, as God'senemies; but had they considered that God alone could discern men'shearts, and alone discover whether any, by conscientiously offering hima wrong worship, could become his enemies; and that infinite wisdom bestknew how to proportion the punishment to the fault, as well as infinitepower how to inflict it; they would, surely, have left it to God tojudge for himself, in a cause which immediately related to himself; andwhere they were not so much as parties concerned, and as likely to bemistaken as those they would punish. Can one, without horror, thinkof men's breaking through all the rules of doing as they would be doneunto, in order to set themselves up for standards of truth for God aswell as man? Do not these impious wretches suppose, that God is not ableto judge for himself; at least, not able to execute his own judgment?And that, therefore, he has recourse, forsooth, to their superiorknowledge or power; and they are to revenge his injuries, root out hisenemies, and restore his lost honor, though with the destruction of thebetter part of mankind? But, to do the propagators of these blasphemousnotions justice, they do not throw this load of scandal on the law ofNature, or so much as pretend from thence to authorize their execrableprinciples; but endeavor to support them by traditional religion;especially by mis-interpreted texts from the Old Testament; and therebymake, not only natural and revealed religion, but the Old and NewTestament (the latter of which requires doing good both to Jews andGentiles) contradict each other. But to return; if what the light ofNature teaches us concerning the divine perfections, when duly attendedto, is not only sufficient to hinder us from falling into superstitionof any kind whatever; but, as I have already shown, demonstrates whatGod, from his infinite wisdom and goodness, can, or cannot command; howis it possible that the law of Nature and grace can differ? How canit be conceived, that God's laws, whether internally, or externallyrevealed, are not at all times the same, when the author of them is, andhas been immutably the same forever?'"

The following passage exhibits the judicious mixture of authority andargument for which our author is remarkable. The quotation is a goodillustration of Tindal's best manner. He is replying to Dr. SamuelClark:--

"It cannot be imputed to any defect in the light of nature, that thepagan world ran into idolatry, but to their being entirely governed bypriests, who pretended communication with their gods, and to havethence their revelations, which they imposed on the credulous as divineoracles: whereas the business of the Christian dispensation was todestroy all those traditional revelations; and restore, free from allidolatry, the true primitive, and natural religion, implanted in mankindfrom the creation. The Dr. (Clark) however, seems afraid, lest he hadallowed too much to the light of nature, in relation to the discovery ofour duty both to God and man; and not left room for revelation to makeany addition; he therefore supposes, 'there are some duties, whichnature hints at only in general. '--But, if we cannot, without highlyreflecting on the wisdom and goodness of God, suppose that he has not, at all times, given the whole rational creation a plain rule for theirconduct, in relation to those duties they owe to God, themselves, andone another; must we not suppose reason, and religion (that rule of allother rules) inseparable; so that no rational creature can be ignorantof it, who attends to the dictates of his own mind; I mean, as far asit is necessary for him to know it! An ignorant peasant may know what issufficient for him, without knowing as much as the learned rector of St. James's. Though the Dr. Says, 'the knowledge of the law of nature is, in fact, by no means universal;' yet he asserts, that 'man is plainly inhis own nature an accountable creature;' which supposes that the lightof nature plainly, and undeniably, teaches him that law, for breach ofwhich he is naturally accountable; and did not the Dr. Believe thislaw to be universal, he could not infer a future judgment from theconscience _all_ men have of their actions, or the judgment they pass onthem in their own minds whereby 'They that have not any law, are a lawunto themselves; their consciences bearing witness, and their thoughtsaccusing, or excusing one another;' which is supposing but one law, whether that law be written on paper, or in men's hearts only; and thatall men by the judgment they pass on their own actions, are consciousof this law. And, the apostle Paul, though quoted by the Dr. , is so farfrom favoring his hypothesis of any invincible ignorance, even in thewisest and best of the philosophers, that he, by saying, The Gentiles, that have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, makes the law of nature and grace to be the same: and supposes thereason why they were to be punished, was their sinning against light andknowledge. That which may be known of God was manifest in them, and whenthey knew God, they glorified him not as God. And they were likewiseguilty of abominable corruptions, not ignorantly, but knowing thejudgment of God, that they who do such things are worthy of death. 

"Had the Dr. But considered this self-evident proposition, that therecan be no transgression where there is no law; and that an unknown lawis the same as no law; and consequently, that all mankind, at all times, must be capable of knowing all (whether more or less) that God requires, it would have prevented his endeavoring to prove, that, till the gospeldispensation, mankind were entirely, and unavoidably ignorant of theirduty in several important points; and thus charging the light ofnature with undeniable defects. I think it no compliment to externalrevelation, though the Dr. Designed it as the highest, to say, itprevailed, when the light of nature was, as he supposes, in a mannerextinct; since then an irrational religion might as easily obtain, asa rational one. The Dr. , to prove that revelation has supplied theinsufficiency, and undeniable defects of the light of nature, refers usto Phil. , iv. , 1, which he introduces after this pompous manner:--'Letany man of an honest and sincere mind consider, whether that practicaldoctrine has not, even in itself, the greatest marks of a divineoriginal, wherein whatsoever things are true, whatsoever thingsare honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, ifthere be any virtue, it there be anything praiseworthy; all these, andthese only, are earnestly recommended to man's practice. ' I would askthe Dr. , how he can know what these are, which are thus alone earnestlyrecommended to man's practice; or, why they have, in themselves, thegreatest marks of a divine original; but from the light of nature? Nay, how can the Dr. Know there are defects in the light of nature, but fromthat light itself? which supposes this light is all we have to trustto; and consequently, all the Dr. Has been doing, on pretence ofpromoting the honor of revelation, is introducing universal scepticism. And I am concerned, and grieved, to see a man, who had so great a shareof the light of nature, employing it to expose that light, of whichbefore he had given the highest commendation; and which can have noother effect, than to weaken even his own demonstration, drawn from thatlight, for the being of a God. I shall mention but one text more, which, had not the Dr. Thought it highly to his purpose, for showing theinsufficiency of the light of nature, he would not have ushered it inafter this most solemn manner:--'When men have put themselves into thistemper and frame of mind, let them try if they can any longer reject theevidence of the gospel. If any man will do his will, he shall knowof the doctrine; whether it be of God. ' Is it not strange, to see sojudicious a divine write after such a manner, as if he thought thebest way to support the dignity of revelation, was to derogate from theimmutable and eternal law of nature? and while he is depressing it, extol revelation for those very things it borrows from that law? inwhich, though he asserts there are undeniable defects, yet he owns thatGod governs all his own actions by it, and expects that all men shouldso govern theirs. 

"But, I find the Dr. 's own brother, the Dean of Sa-rum, is entirely ofmy mind, as to those texts the Dr. Quotes--viz. , Rom. Ii. , 14, andPhil, iv. , 8. As to the first--viz. , Rom. Ii. , 14, he says, 'The apostlesupposes, that the moral law is founded in the nature and reason ofthings: that every man is endued with such powers ana faculties of mind, as render him capable of seeing, and taking notice of this law; and alsowith such a sense and judgment of the reasonableness and fitness ofconforming his actions to it, that he cannot but in his own mind acquithimself when he does so; and condemn himself when he does otherwise. 'And as to the second--viz. , Phil, iv. , 8, where the same apostlerecommends the practice of Virtue, upon the fore-mentioned principlesof comeliness and reputation. --'These principles, ' says he, 'if dulyattended to, were sufficient to instruct men in the whole of their dutytowards themselves, and towards each other. And they would also havetaught them their duty towards God, their Creator and Governor, if theyhad diligently pursued them. For according as the apostle expresses it, Rom. I. , 20, the invisible things of God from the creation of the worldare clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even hiseternal power and Godhead. The same fitness and decency that appearsin men's regular behavior towards each other, appears also in theirbehavior towards God. And this, likewise, is founded in the nature andreason of things; and is what the circumstances and condition they arein do absolutely require. Thus we see therein moral virtue, or goodconsists, and what the obligation to it is from its own native beautyand excellency. '"

One more example of Tindal's style will show how skilfully and cogentlyhe forced, the great authorities of his day to bear Witness to the truthof his leading proposition, the natural antiquity of all the reasonableprecepts of the Bible:--

"The most accurate Dr. Barrow gives this character of the Christianreligion, 'That its precepts are no other than such as physiciansprescribe for the health of our bodies; as politicians would allow to beneedful for the peace of the state; as Epicurean philosophers recommendfor the tranquillity of our minds, and pleasures of our lives; suchas reason dictates, and daily shows conducive to our welfare in allrespects; which consequently, were there no law enacting them, we shouldin wisdom choose to observe, and voluntarily impose them on ourselves;confessing them to be fit matters of law, and most advantageous andrequisite to the good, general and particular, of mankind. '

"That great and good man Dr. Tillotson says, 'That all the preceptsof Christianity are reasonable and wise, requiring such duties as aresuitable to the light of nature, and do approve themselves to the bestreason of mankind; such as have their foundation in the nature of God, and are an imitation of the divine excellencies; such as tend to theperfection of human nature, and to raise the minds of men to the highestpitch of goodness and virtue. They command nothing that is unnecessary, they omit nothing that may tend to the glory of God, or the welfare ofmen, nor do they restrain us in anything, but what is contrary to theregular inclinations of nature, or to our reason, and true interest;they forbid us nothing but what is base and unworthy to serve our humorsand passions, to make ourselves fools and beasts. In a word, nothing butwhat tends to our private harm, or prejudice, or to public disorder andconfusion. '

"The late Dean of Canterbury, in a sermon preached in defence ofChristianity, says, * 'What can be a more powerful incentive toobedience, than for a rational creature clearly to discern the equity, the necessity, the benefit, the decency and beauty of every actionhe is called to do, and thence to be duly sensible how gracious amaster he serves; one that is so far from loading him with fruitless, arbitrary, and tyrannical impositions, that each command abstractedfrom his command who issues it, is able to recommend itself; and nothingrequired but what every wise man would choose of his accord: and cannot, without being his, own enemy, wish to be exempted from?' And thischaracter of Christianity he makes to be essential to its being fromGod, and therefore must make it the same with natural religion, whichhas this character impressed on it. 

"'There was none of the doctrines of our Saviour (says the lateArchbishop of York) ** calculated for the gratification of men'sidle curiosities, the busying and amusing them with airy and uselessspeculations; much less were they intended for an exercise of ourcredulity, or a trial how far we could bring our reason to submit to ourfaith; but as on the one hand they were plain and simple, and such asby their agreeable-ness to the rational faculties of mankind, did highlyrecommend themselves to our belief; so on the other hand they had animmediate relation to practice, and were the general principles andfoundation, on which all human and divine virtues were naturally to besuperstructed. '

 * Boyle's Lect. , p. 26, ** Sermon before the Queen on Christmas Day, 1724. 

"Does not every one see, that if the religion of nature had been putinstead of Christianity, these descriptions would have exactly agreedwith it? The judicious Dr. Scot affirms, 'God never imposes laws on us_pro imperio_, as arbitrary tests and trials of our obedience. The greatdesign of them (says he, ) is to do us good, and direct our actions toour own interest. This, if we firmly believe, will infinitely encourageour obedience; for when I am sure God commands me nothing but what myown health, ease, and happiness requires; and that every law of his isboth a necessary and sovereign prescription against the diseases ofmy nature, and he could not prescribe less than he has, without beingdefective in his care of my recovery and happiness; with what prudenceand modesty can I grudge to obey him?'

"Nay, the most considerate men, even among the Papists, do not scrupleto maintain there's nothing in religion but what is moral. The divinesof Port Royal for instance, say, 'All the precepts, and all themysteries that are expressed in so many different ways in the holyvolumes, do all centre in this one commandment of loving God with allour heart, and in loving our neighbors as ourselves: for the Scripture(it is St. Austin who says it) forbids but one only thing, which isconcupiscence, or the love of the creature; as it commands but one onlything, which is charity, and the love of God. Upon this double preceptis founded the whole system of the Christian religion; and it is untothis, say they, according to the expression of Jesus Christ, that allthe ancient law and the prophets have reference; and we may add also, all the mysteries, and all the precepts of the new law; for love, saysSt. Paul, is the fulfilling of the law. ' And these divines likewise citea remarkable passage of St. Austin on this subject, viz. , 'He that knowshow to love God, and to regulate his life by that love, knows all thatthe Scripture propounds to be known. ' And might add the authority ofa greater man, and a Papist too, * who says, 'Religion adds nothingto natural probity, but the consolation of doing that for love andobedience to our Heavenly Father, which reason itself requires us do infavor of virtue. '"

 * Archbishop of Cambray: Lettres sur la Religion, p. 258, a Paris. 

Tindal was a solid, rather than a brilliant writer: but he perfectlyknew what he was about; and the work from which we quote, was wellconceived and carefully executed. His ground was skilfully chosen, hisarguments were placed on an eminence where his friends could see them, and where his enemies could not assail them. Dr. Leland, in his view ofDeistical writers, is quite in a rage with him, because he discreditsBook Revelation, to set up Nature's Revelation. His real offencewas, that he did prove that Nature was the only source of truth andreason--the criterion by which even Divine Revelation must be judged. He carried men back to the gospel of nature, by the side of which thegospel of the Jewish fishermen did not show to advantage. Tindal didput something in the place of that which he was supposed desirousof removing. How unwilling Christians of that day were to admit ofimprovement in religion, is shown by the number of attacks Tindal's worksustained. The Bishop of London published a "Second Pastoral Letter"against it; Dr. Thomas Burnet "confuted" it; Mr. Law "fully" answeredit; Dr. Stebbing "obviated the principal objections" in it. "The samelearned and judicious writer, " observes Leland, a second time enteredthe lists, in "answer to the fourteenth chapter of a book, entitled'Christianity as Old as the Creation. '" Mr. Balgny issued a "SecondLetter to a Deist, " occasioned by Tindal's work. Mr. Anthony O'Key gavea short view of the whole controversy. Dr. Foreter, Dr. John Conybeare, "particularly engaged public attention" as Dr. Tindal's antagonists. Mr. Simon Brown produced a "solid and excellent" answer; and Dr. Leland, with many blushes, tells us that he himself issued in Dublin, in 1773, two volumes, taking a wider compass than the other answers. 

"Christianity as Old as the Creation" is a work which Freethinkers mayyet consult with advantage, as a repertory of authorities no longeraccessible to the readers of this generation. What these authoritiesallege will be found to have intrinsic value, to be indeed lastingtestimonies in favor of Rationalism. In passing in review the nobletruths, Tindal insists that it is impossible not to wonder at thepolicy, or rather want of policy displayed by Christians. Tindal is anauthor whom they might be proud of, if they were really in love withreason. Tindal's opponents have shown how instinctively the children offaith distrust the truths of Nature. After all the "refutations, " and"confutations" and answers made to the great Deist, Tin-dal's workhas maintained its ground, and the truths he so ably and spiritedlyvindicated, have spread wider since and taken deeper root. 

J. W. 

DAVID HUME

Lord Brougham has rendered service not only to "Letters, " but also toFreethought, by his admirable "Lives, " incomparably the best we have, of Voltaire, Rousseau, Hume, Gibbon, etc. From Lord Brougham we learn(whose life in this sketch we follow) that David Hume, related to theEarl of Hume's family, was born in Edinburgh, in April, 1711. Refusingto be made a lawyer, he was sent, in 1734, to a mercantile house inBristol. The "desk" not suiting the embryo historian's genius, we findhim in 1737 at La Flèche, in Anjou, writing his still-born "Treatise onHuman Nature;" which in 1742, in separate Essays, attracted some notice. Keeper and companion to the Marquis of Annandale in 1745, privatesecretary to General St. Clair in 1747, he visited on embassy the courtsof Vienna and Turin. While at Turin he completed his "Inquiry Concerningthe Human Understanding, " the "Treatise on Human Nature" in a new form. Returned to Scotland, he published his "Political Discourses" in 1752, and the same year his "Inquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals. "The "Essays, Moral and Metaphysical, " are the form in which we now readthese speculations. In 1752, Hume became librarian to the Faculty ofAdvocates. In 1754 he published the first volume of his "History ofEngland. " In 1755, appeared his "Natural History of Religion. " In1763 he accompanied the British ambassador to Paris. In 1765 he became_charge d'affaires_. 

In 1766 he was appointed Under Secretary of State under Marshal Conway. In 1775 he was seized with a mortal disease, which he bore without anyabatement of his cheerfulness; and on the 25th of August, "_le bon_David, " as he was styled in Paris, died, to use his own words, having "no enemies--except all the Whigs, all the Tories, and all theChristians"--which was something to his honor, and a testimony of theusefulness of his life. 

David Hume was the first writer who gave historical distinction to GreatBritain. Lord John Russell remarked in a speech at Bristol, in October, 1854:--"We have no other 'History of England' than Hume's. .. . When a young man of eighteen asks for a 'History of England, ' there isno resource but to give him Hume. " Hume was the author of the moderndoctrines of politics and political economy, which now rule the world ofscience. He was "the sagacious unfolder of truth, the accurate and bolddiscoverer of popular error. " More than a sceptic, he was an Atheist. Such is Lord Brougham's judgment of him. 

Hume carried Freethought into high places. In originality of thought, grace of style, and logical ability, he distanced all rival writers onreligion in his time, and what is of no small importance, his life wasas blameless as his intellect was unapproachable. 

Our first extract from his writings is a felicitous statement ofthe _pro_ and _con_. , on the questions of polygamous and single, marriages:--

"A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to her according tothe terms of his engagement. In begetting children, he is bound, by allthe ties of nature and humanity, to provide for their subsistence andeducation. When he has performed these two parts of duty, no onecan reproach him with injustice or injury. And as the terms of hisengagement, as well as the methods of subsisting his offspring, maybe various, it is mere superstition to imagine that marriage can beentirely uniform, and will admit only of one mode or form. Did not humanlaws restrain the natural liberty of men, every particular marriagewould be as different as contracts or bargains of any other kindor species. As circumstances vary, and the laws propose differentadvantages, we find, that in different times and places, they imposedifferent conditions on this important contract. In Tonquin, it is usualfor the sailors, when the ship comes into the harbor, to marry forthe season; and, notwithstanding this precarious engagement, they areassured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their bed, as well asin the whole management of their affairs, from those temporary spouses. I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities; but I have somewhereread, that the Republic of Athens, having lost many of its citizens bywar and pestilence, allowed every man to marry two wives, in order thesooner to repair the waste which had been made by these calamities. The poet Euripides happened to be coupled to two noisy vixens, who soplagued him with their jealousies and quarrels, that he became everafter a professed _woman hater_; and is the only theatrical writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an aversion to the sex. .. . The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the only effectual remedyfor the disorders of love, and the only expedient for freeing men fromthat slavery to the females which the natural violence of our passionshas imposed upon us. By this means alone can we regain our right ofsovereignty and, sating our appetite, re-establish the authority ofreason in our minds, and, of consequence, our own authority in ourfamilies. Man, like a weak sovereign, being unable to support himselfagainst the wiles and intrigues of his subjects, must play one factionagainst another, and become absolute by the mutual jealousy ofthe females. To divide and to govern is an universal maxim; andby neglecting it, the Europeans undergo a more grievous and a moreignominious slavery than the Turks or Persians, who are subjected indeedto a sovereign that lies at a distance from them, but in their domesticaffairs rules with an uncontrollable sway. On the other hand, it may beurged with better reason, that this sovereignty of the male is a realusurpation, and destroys that nearness of rank, not to say equality, which nature has established between the sexes. We are, by nature, theirlovers, their friends, their patrons. Would we willingly exchange suchendearing appellations for the barbarous title of master and tyrant? Inwhat capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceeding? As lovers, oras husbands? The _lover_ is totally annihilated; and courtship, the mostagreeable scene in life, can no longer have place where women havenot the free disposal of themselves, but are bought and sold like themeanest animal. The _husband_ is as little a gainer, having foundthe admirable secret of extinguishing every part of love, except itsjealousy. No rose without its thorn; but he must be a foolish wretchindeed, that throws away the rose and preserves only the thorn. But theAsiatic manners are as destructive to friendship as to love. Jealousyexcludes men from all intimacies and familiarities with each other. Noone dares bring his friend to his house or table, lest he bring a loverto his numerous wives. Hence, all over the East, each family is as muchseparate from another as if they were so many distinct kingdoms. Nowonder then that Solomon, living like an Eastern prince, with his sevenhundred wives, and three hundred concubines, without one friend, couldwrite so pathetically concerning the vanity of the world. Had he triedthe secret of one wife or mistress, a few friends, and a great manycompanions, he might have found lite somewhat more agreeable. Destroylove and friendship, what remains in the world worth accepting?"

Next we quote his famous statement of the principle of _utility_ inmorals:--

"There has been a controversy started of late much better worthexamination, concerning the general foundation of morals; whetherthey be derived from reason or from sentiment; whether we attainthe knowledge of them by a chain of argument and induction, or by animmediate feeling and finer internal sense; whether, like all soundjudgment of truth and falsehood, they should be the name to everyrational intelligent being; or whether like the perception of beautyand deformity, they be founded entirely on the particular fabric andconstitution of the human species. The ancient philosophers, though theyoften affirm that virtue is nothing but conformity to reason, yet, ingeneral, seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from tasteand sentiment. On the other hand, our modern inquirers, though theyalso talk much of the beauty of virtue, and, deformity of vice, yet havecommonly endeavored to account for these distinctions by metaphysicalreasonings, and by deductions from the most abstract principles ofthe understanding. Such confusion reigned in these subjects, that anopposition of the greatest consequence could prevail between one systemand another, and even in the parts of almost each individual system: andyet nobody, till very lately, was ever sensible of it. The elegant LordShaftesbury, who first gave occasion to remark this distinction, andwho, in general, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not, himself, entirely free from the same confusion. .. . In all determinationsof morality, the circumstance of public utility, is ever principally inview; and wherever disputes arise, either in philosophy or common life, concerning the bounds of duty, the question cannot, by any means, bedecided with greater certainty, than by ascertaining, on any side, the true interests of mankind. If any false opinion, embraced fromappearances, has been found to prevail; as soon as farther experienceand sounder reasoning have given us juster notions of human affairs, we retract our first sentiment, and adjust anew the boundaries of moralgood and evil. Giving alms to common beggars is naturally praised;because it seems to carry relief to the distressed and indigent;but when we observe the encouragement thence arising to idleness anddebauchery, we regard that species of charity rather as a weakness thana virtue. Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressiveprinces, was highly extolled in ancient times; because it both freedmankind from many of these monsters, and seemed to keep the othersin awe whom the sword or poniard could not reach. But history andexperience having since convinced us, that this practice increases thejealousy and cruelty of princes, a Timoleon and a Brutus, though treatedwith indulgence on account of the prejudices of their times, are nowconsidered as very improper models for imitation. Liberality in princesis regarded as a mark of beneficence. But when it occurs, that thehomely bread of the honest and industrious is often thereby convertedinto delicious cakes for the idle and the prodigal, we soon retract ourheedless praises. The regrets of a prince, for having lost a day, werenoble and generous; but had he intended to have spent it in acts ofgenerosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than misemployedafter that manner. .. . That justice is useful to society, andconsequently that _part_ of its merit, at least, must arise from thatconsideration, it would be a superfluous undertaking to prove. Thatpublic utility is the _sole_ origin of justice, that reflections on thebeneficial consequences of this virtue are the _sole_ foundation of itsmerit; this proposition being more curious and important, will betterdeserve our examination and inquiry. Let us suppose that nature hasbestowed on the human race such profuse abundance of all externalconveniences, that, without any uncertainty in the event, without anycare or industry on our part, every individual finds himself fullyprovided with whatever his most voracious appetite can want, orluxurious imagination wish or desire. His natural beauty, we shallsuppose, surpasses all acquired ornaments; the perpetual clemency of theseasons renders useless all clothes or covering: the raw herbage affordshim the most delicious fare; the clear fountain, the richest beverage. No laborious occupation required: no tillage: no navigation. Music, poetry, and contemplation, form his sole business: conversation, mirth, and friendship his sole amusement. It seems evident, that, in sucha happy state, every other social virtue would flourish, and receivetenfold increase; but the cautious, jealous virtue of justice, wouldnever once have been dreamed of. For what purpose make a partition ofgoods, where every one has already more than enough? Why give riseto property, where there cannot possibly be any injury? Why call thisobject _mine_, when, upon seizing of it by another, I need but stretchout my hand to possess myself of what is equally valuable? Justice, inthat case, being totally useless, would be an idle ceremonial, and couldnever possibly have place in the catalogue of virtues. We see, even inthe present necessitous condition of mankind, that, wherever any benefitis bestowed by nature in an unlimited abundance, we leave it always incommon among the whole human race, and make no subdivisions of right andproperty. Water and air, though the most necessary of all objects, arenot challenged as the property of individuals; nor can any man commitinjustice by the most lavish use and enjoyment of these blessings. Infertile extensive countries, with few inhabitants, land is regardedon the same footing. And no topic is so much insisted on by thosewho defend the liberty of the seas, as the unexhausted use of them innavigation. Were the advantages procured by navigation as inexhaustible, these reasoners had never had any adversaries to refute; nor had anyclaims ever been advanced of a separate, exclusive dominion overthe ocean. .. . Suppose a society to fall into such want of all commonnecessaries, that the utmost frugality and industry cannot preserve thegreater number from perishing, and the whole from extreme misery. Itwill readily, I believe, be admitted that the strict laws of justice aresuspended in such a pressing emergence, and give place to the strongermotives of necessity and self-preservation. Is it any crime, after ashipwreck, to seize whatever means or instrument of safety one can layhold of, without regard to former limitations of properly? Or if a citybesieged were perishing with hunger; can we imagine that men will seeany means of preservation before them, and lose their lives from ascrupulous regard to what, in other situations, would be the rules ofequity and justice? The use and tendency of that virtue is to procurehappiness and security, by preserving order in society. But where thesociety is ready to perish from extreme necessity, no greater evil canbe dreaded from violence and injustice; and every man may now providefor himself by all the means which prudence can dictate, or humanitypermit. The public, even in less urgent necessities, opens granarieswithout the consent of proprietors; as justly supposing, that theauthority of magistracy may, consistent with equity, extend so far. Butwere any number of men to assemble, without the tie of laws or civiljurisdiction; would an equal partition of bread in a famine, thougheffected by power and even violence, be regarded as criminal orinjurious? Suppose, likewise, that it should be a virtuous man's fateto fall into the society of ruffians, remote from the protection oflaws and government; what conduct must he embrace in that melancholysituation? He sees such a desperate rapaciousness prevail; such adisregard to equity, such contempt of order, such stupid blindnessto future consequences, as must immediately have the most tragicalconclusion, and must terminate in destruction to the greater number, andin a total dissolution of society to the rest. He, meanwhile, can haveno other expedient than to arm himself, to whomever the sword he seizes, or the buckler may belong: to make provision of all means of defence andsecurity: and his particular regard to justice being no longer of useto his own safety or that of others, he must consult the dictates ofself-preservation alone, without concern for those who no longer merithis care and attention. .. . But perhaps the difficulty of accounting forthese effects of usefulness, or its contrary, has kept philosophers fromadmitting them into their systems of ethics, and has induced them toemploy any other principle, in explaining the origin of moral good andevil. But it is no just reason for rejecting any principle, confirmedby experience, that we cannot give a satisfactory account of its origin, nor are able to resolve it into other more general principles. And if wewould employ a little thought on the present subject, we need be atno loss to account for the influence of utility, and deduce it fromprinciples the most known and avowed in human nature. .. . Usefulness is agreeable, and engages our approbation. This is a matterof fact, confirmed by daily observation. But useful! For what? Forsomebody's interest, surely! Whose interest then? Not our own only; forour approbation frequently extends farther. It must therefore be theinterest of those who are served by the character or action approved of;and these, we may conclude, however remote, are not totally indifferentto us. By opening up this principle, we shall discover one great sourceof moral distinctions. "

The origin and mischiefs of Theistic influences is the subject of thefollowing passage:--

"It must necessarily, indeed, be allowed, that in order to carry men'sattention beyond the present course of things, or lead them into anyinference concerning invisible intelligent power, they must be actuatedby some passion which prompts their thought and reflection, some motivewhich urges their first inquiry. But what passion shall we here haverecourse to, for explaining an effect of such mighty consequence? Notspeculative curiosity, surely, or the pure love of truth. That motiveis too refined for such gross apprehensions; and would lead men intoinquiries concerning the frame of nature, a subject too large andcomprehensive for their narrow capacities. No passions, therefore, canbe supposed to work upon such barbarians, but the ordinary affectionsof human life; the anxious concern for happiness, the dread of futuremisery, the terror of death, the thirst of revenge, the appetite forfood and other necessaries. Agitated by hopes and fears of this nature, especially the latter, men scrutinize, with a trembling curiosity, thecourse of future causes, and examine the various and contrary eventsof human life. And in this disordered scene, with eyes still moredisordered and astonished, they see the first obscure traces ofdivinity. .. . We hang in perpetual suspense between life and death, health and sickness, plenty and want, which are distributed amongstthe human species by secret and unknown causes, whose operation is oftunexpected, and always unaccountable. These _unknown causes_, then, become the constant object of hope and fear; and while the passions arekept in perpetual alarm by an anxious expectation of the events, theimagination is equally employed in forming ideas of those powers onwhich we have so entire a dependence. Could men anatomize nature, according to the most probable, at least the most intelligiblephilosophy, they would find that these causes are nothing but theparticular fabric and structure of the minute parts of their own bodiesand of external objects; and that by a regular and constant machinery, all the events are produced, about which they are so much concerned. .. . There is an universal tendency among mankind to conceive all beings likethemselves, and to transfer to every object those qualities withwhich they are familiarly acquainted, and of which they are intimatelyconscious. We find human faces in the moon, armies in the clouds; and, by a natural propensity, it not corrected by experience and reflection, ascribe malice or good will to everything that hurts or pleases us. Hence the frequency and beauty of the _prosopopoia_ in poetry; wheretrees, mountains, and streams are personified, and the inanimate partsof nature acquire sentiment and passion. And though these poeticalfigures and expressions gain not on the belief; they may serve, atleast, to prove a certain tendency in the imagination, without whichthey could neither be beautiful nor natural. Nor is a river-god orhamadryad always taken for a mere poetical or imaginary personage, butmay sometimes enter into the real creed of the ignorant vulgar; whileeach grove or field is represented as possessed of a particular geniusor invisible power which inhabits and protects, it. Nay, philosopherscannot entirely exempt themselves flora this natural frailty; but haveoft ascribed to inanimate matter the horror of a _vacuum_, sympathies, antipathies, and other affections of human nature. The absurdity isnot less, while we cast our eyes upwards; and, transferring, as is toousual, human passions and infirmities to the Deity, represent him asjealous and revengeful, capricious and partial, and, in short, awicked and foolish man in every respect but his superior power andauthority. --No wonder, then, that mankind, being placed in such anabsolute ignorance of causes, and being at the same time so anxiousconcerning their future fortune, should immediately acknowledge adependence on invisible powers, possessed of sentiment and intelligence. The _unknown causes_ which continually employ their thought, appearingalways in the same aspect, are all apprehended to be of the same kind orspecies. Nor is it long before we ascribe to them thought, and reason, and passion, and sometimes even the limbs and figures of men, inorder to bring them nearer to a resemblance with ourselves. .. . It isremarkable, that the principles of religion have a kind of flux andreflux in the human mind, and that men have a natural tendency to risefrom idolatry to Theism, and to sink again from Theism into idolatry. The vulgar--that is, indeed, all mankind, a few excepted--being ignorantand uninstructed, never elevate their contemplation to the heavens, orpenetrate by their disquisitions into the secret structure of vegetableor animal bodies; so far as, to discover a Supreme Mind or OriginalProvidence, which bestowed order on every part of nature. They considerthese admirable works in a more confined and selfish view; and findingtheir own happiness and misery to, depend on the secret influence, andunforeseen concurrence of external objects, they regard, with perpetualattention, the _unknown causes_ which govern all these natural events, and distribute pleasure and pain, good and ill, by their powerful butsilent operation. The unknown causes are still appealed to on everyemergency; and in this general appearance or confused image, are theperpetual objects of human hopes and fears, wishes and apprehensions. By degrees, the active imagination of men, uneasy in this abstractconception of objects, about which it is incessantly employed, begins torender them more particular, and to clothe them in shapes more suitableto its natural comprehension. It represents them to be sensible, intelligent beings like mankind; actuated by love and hatred, andflexible by gifts and entreaties, by prayers and sacrifices. Hence theorigin of religion: and hence the origin of idolatry or polytheism. "

More has been written by theologians in endeavors to refute thefollowing passage, than has ever been called forth by the wit of manbefore by the same number of words:--

"A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm andunalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against amiracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argumentfrom experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probablethat all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended inthe air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unlessit be that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of these laws, or, in other words, a miracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it everhappen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man, seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden; because such a kindof death, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequentlyobserved to happen. But it is a miracle that a dead man should come tolife; because that has never been observed in any age or country. Theremust, therefore, be an uniform experience against every miraculousevent, otherwise the event would not merit that appellation. And as anuniform experience amounts to a proof, there is here a direct andfull proof, from the nature of the fact, against the existence of anymiracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle renderedcredible, but by an opposite proof which is superior. The plainconsequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention, )'That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless thetestimony be of such a kind that its falsehood would be more miraculousthan the fact which it endeavors to establish. And even in that casethere is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior only givesus an assurance suitable to that degree of force which remains afterdeducting the inferior. ' When any one tells me that he saw a dead manrestored to life, I immediately consider with myself whether it be moreprobable that this person should either deceive or be deceived, or thatthe fact which he relates should really have happened. I weigh the onemiracle against the other; and according to the superiority whichI discover, I pronounce my decision, and always reject the greatermiracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous thanthe event which he relates; then, and not till then, can he pretendto command my belief or opinion. .. . There is not to be found, in allhistory, any miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, of suchunquestioned good sense, education, and learning, as to secure usagainst all delusion in themselves; of such undoubted integrity, as toplace them beyond all suspicion of any design to deceive others; of suchcredit and reputation in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal tolose in case of their being detected in any falsehood; and at the sametime attesting facts, performed in such a public manner, and in socelebrated a part of the world, as to render the detection unavoidable;all which circumstances are requisite to give us a full assurance of thetestimony of men. .. . One of the best attested miracles in all profanehistory, is that which Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured a blindman in Alexandria by means of his spittle, and a lame man by the meretouch of his foot; in obedience to a vision of the god Seraphis, who hadenjoined them to have recourse to the emperor or for these miraculouscures. The story may be seen in that fine historian; where everycircumstance seems to add weight to the testimony, and might bedisplayed at large with all the force of argument and eloquence, ifany one were now concerned to enforce the evidence of that exploded andidolatrous superstition. The gravity, solidity, age, and probity of sogreat an emperor, who through the whole course of his life, conversedin a familiar manner, with his friends and courtiers, and never affectedthose extraordinary airs of divinity assumed by Alexander and Demetrius. The historian, a contemporary writer, noted for candor and veracity, and, withal, the greatest and most, penetrating genius, perhaps of allantiquity; and so free from any tendency to credulity, that he even liesunder the contrary imputation of Atheism and profaneness. The persons, from whose authority he related the miracle of established characterfor judgment and veracity, as we may-well presume; eye-witnesses ofthe fact, and confirming their testimony, after the Flavian family wasdespoiled of the empire, and could no longer give any reward as theprice of a lie. _Utrumque, qui interfuere, nunc quoque memorant, postquam nullum mendacio pretium_. To which, if we add the public natureof the facts, as related, it will appear that no evidence can well besupposed stronger for so gross and so palpable a falsehood. "

These extracts will give some idea of the grace, and power, andpenetration of Hume. The society he kept, the abilities with which hewas justly credited, the reputation his works deservedly won for him, made him a man of mark and influence in his day. Read by the learned, courted by statesmen, he taught gentlemen liberality, and governmentstoleration. The influence of Hume, silent and inappreciable to themultitude, has been of the utmost importance to the nation. His workshave been studied by philosophers, politicians, and prelates. Thewritings of no Freethinker, except Voltaire, have maintained theirground with continually increasing reputation. Oddly enough, noneof Hume's works were popular when they first appeared. In fact, his"Treatise on Human Nature" he had to reprint in the form of Essays, fiveyears after its first publication. It then, for the first time, began tobe bought; but not to any great extent. Five years later, he againmade it re-appear, under the form of an "Inquiry Concerning the HumanUnderstanding. " It was not until this third publication that he "beganto perceive symptoms of its coming into notice. " The world has sincemade up for its negligence, by perpetual comment and solid appreciation. A king among thinkers, the clergy have in the provinces of politics andphilosophical speculation to acknowledge allegiance to him, however theymay rebel against his theological heresies. 

J. W. 

DR. THOMAS BURNET

It was only a very narrow accident which prevented Dr. Burnet, anultra Freethinker in the Church of England, from becoming Archbishop ofCanterbury at the death of Tillotson. A combination of clergymen wereprepared to immolate themselves providing Burnet could be overthrown. They succeeded. Thomas Burnet kept the Charter House, in London, andhis conscience--happier, perhaps, in this than if he had enjoyed theecclesiastical preferment which King William seemed so anxious to givehim. Amongst the clergy, Dr. Burnet was, with the single exception ofDean Swift, the greatest Freethinker of whom we can boast, who held aninfluential position in the Church. This position is sometimes claimedfor Bishop Berkeley, a man of vast talents, a sincere Christian, although an innovator in philosophy. 

Thomas Burnet was born in the year 1635. At the age of forty-five, he published the work, in Latin, with which his name is generallyassociated, "The Sacred Theory of the Earth: containing an account ofthe Original of the Earth, and of all the general changes which ithas already undergone, or is to undergo, till the consummation of allThings. " This book gives us an idea, formed by its author, of the originof the world, and is remarkable as one of the first grand prophecies ofgeology; although of little value to us, it produced an impression uponthe age by depicting the various strata of the mountainous regions, andcomparing them in different countries, eliminating ideas of the natureof the vast changes we see in the universe, tracing the rise of most ofthe phenomena from the two elements, fire and water. Burnet thought thatat one time the whole of matter was in a fluid state, revolving rounda central sun, until the heavier particles sunk into the middle, andformed the stony strata which supports the earth, over which the lighterliquids coalesced until the heat of the sun effectually separated waterfrom land. This is the foundation of a scheme which is elaborated ina poetic style, abounding in eloquent descriptions; in fact it is aphilosophic prose poem of almost unalloyed beauty. In it there is someresemblance to the measured sentences of Shaftesbury, although unequalto that fine writer in soundness of judgment or practical usefulness. In1691 an English translation was published. 

By far the most interesting work to us of Burnet's (also written inLatin) is "Archæologia Philosophical or, an account of the Opinion ofthe Ancients on various Philosophical Problems. " This work created greatopposition by its free remarks on the Mosaic dispensation, althoughthe writer in this, as in the case of his posthumous works, stronglyprotested against their being translated into the English language, ashe was justly afraid of their influence on the minds of the laity, andfrom his high official station, with the influence his vast learning andhis connection with Tillotson, and the Court gave him, he was, nodoubt, apprehensive that the really religious champions of the Church ofEngland would denounce him when exposed to the temptation of High Churchpreferment. Fragments of those works were translated by the clergy toprove to the unlearned what a dangerous character Thomas Burnet was. Charles Blount, writing to Gildon, says, "I have, according to mypromise, sent you herewith the seventh and eighth chapters, as also theappendix, of the great and learned Dr. Burnet's book, published thiswinter in Latin, and by him dedicated to our most gracious Sovereign, King William. .. .. As for the piece itself, I think it is one of themost ingenious I have ever read, and full of the most acute as wellas learned observations. Nor can I find anything worthy an objectionagainst him, as some of the censorious part of the world pretend; whowould have you believe it a mere burlesque upon Moses, and destructiveto the notion of original sin, wherefore by consequence (say they)there could be no necessity of a Redemption, which, however, I think nonecessary consequence; but, for my part, either the great venerationI have for the doctor's extraordinary endowments, or else my ownignorance, has so far bribed me to his interests that I can, by nomeans, allow of any of those unjust reflections the wholesale merchantsof credulity, as well as their unthinking retailers, make against him. It is true, in the seventh chapter he seems to prove that many parts ofthe Mosaic history of the creation appear inconsistent with reason, and in the eighth chapter the same appears no less inconsistent withphilosophy; wherefore he concludes (as many fathers of the Church havedone before him) that the whole rather seems to have been but a piousallegory. " Dr. Burnet took the meaning of much of the Bible to be buta "pious allegory, " and, as such, he strove to popularize it with theclergy. We do not believe that he intended to enlighten any but theclergy. He foresaw the "flood of fierce democracy, " and, like otherable men with vested rights in the ignorance of the people, he strove totemporize, to put off still further the day of Christianity's downfall. We place him in this biographical niche not because he dashed into thefray, like bold Hobbes or chivalrous Woolston, and took part in thebattle of priestcraft because he thought it was right, but ratherbecause he was a Freethinker in disguise, longing for Episcopal honors;yet, by one false step (the publishing of "Archæologia, " ) lost anarchbishopric, and gave the authority of a great name to strugglingopinion. His accession to our ranks was a brilliant accident. He died, at the age of eighty years, in 1715. After his demise, two works weretranslated (and published, ) both expressive of his liberal views. Thefirst, "On Christian Faith and Duties, " throwing overboard the whole ofthe speculative tenets of the Bible, and giving practical effect to themorals taught in the New Testament, without striving to refute, or evenapparently to disbelieve, their authority, but advising the clergy totreat them as a dead letter. The other posthumous treatise was, "On theState of the Dead and the Reviving, " which shadows forth a scheme ofDeism, inasmuch as Burnet here flatly contradicts the usual ideas of"hell torments" or "hell fire, " while asserting the necessity of those"who have not been as good in this life as they ought to be" undergoinga probationary purification before they attained supreme happiness, yet, eventually, every human being would inhabit a heavenly elysium, whereperennial pleasure would reign, and sorrow be forever unknown. 

Those sentiments indicate a high degree of liberal culture, althoughthey do not sufficiently embody our ideal of one of the greatFreethinkers of the past. We should have preferred Burnet if he hadsystematically opposed the Church as Toland or Tindal, or if he hadboldly entered the breach like William Whiston, whose singular talentsand faithful honesty separated him alike from the Church, Dissent, andDeism, and left him shipwrecked on the world an able yet a visionaryreformer. With more ability than Chubb, he resembled him in his weakpolicy; he chose to cut his sneers in slices, and served them up fora scholarly party rather than hazard the indignation of the ignorantamongst the clergy. We are, however, certain that although Thomas Burnetwas deficient in many points where he might have done effective service, yet we honor him for the boldness with which he faced the scholars withhis Latin works. He threw an apple of discord amongst their ranks whichhas served, in a constantly increasing manner, to divide and distracttheir attention. The result has been a constant internecine war in theChurch, by which Freethought has largely profited. 

We conclude our sketch of Dr. Burnet by quoting some extracts from theseventh chapter of the "Archæologia Philosophica, " as translatedby Charles Blount in the "Oracles of Reason, " concerning Moses'sdescription of Paradise and the original of things:--

"We have (says Burnet) hitherto made our inquiries into the originalsof things, as well as after a true knowledge of Paradise amongst theancients; yet still with reference to sacred writ, where it gave us anymanner of light on the subject, but think it altogether unnecessaryto define the place or situation of Paradise, since in respect to thetheory of the earth, it is much the same thing where you place it, providing it be not on our modern earth. Now, if you inquire among theancient fathers where the situation of it was, either they will have itto be none at all, or else obscure and remote from our understanding;some of them, indeed, term it an intelligible Paradise, but confinedto no one particular place; whilst others, at the same time make it asensible one, and here it is they first divided about it, etc. .. . Now, the history of Paradise, according to Moses, is this:--When God had, insix days, finished the creation of the world, the seventh day he restedfrom all manner of work. And here Moses relates particularly each day'soperations: but for the story of mankind, as well male as female, ofwhich he makes a particular treatise by himself. Wherefore, omitting therest at present, let us consider the Mosaic doctrine upon those threesubjects, viz. , Adam, Eve, and the Garden of Eden, together with thosethings which are interwoven within them. As to the first man, Adam, Moses says he was formed not out of stones or dragon's teeth, as otherCosmists have feigned concerning their men, but out of the dust orclay of the earth, and when his body was formed, 'God _blew into hisnostrils_ the breath of life, and man was made a living soul. '

"But after another manner, and of another matter, was the womanbuilt--viz. , with one of Adam's small bones, for as Adam lay asleep, Godtook away one of his _ribs_, and out of that made Eve. So much forthe forming of the first man and woman by the literal text. Moses haslikewise given us a large account of their first habitation. He saysthat God made them in a certain famous garden in the East, and gave itto them as a farm to cultivate and to inhabit, which garden was a mostdelightful place, watered with four several fountains or rivers, plantedwith trees of every kind. .. . Amongst the trees, in the midst of thegarden, stood two more remarkable than the rest; one was called the treeof life, the other the tree of death, or of the knowledge of good andevil. .. . God, upon pain of death, prohibits Adam and Eve from tastingthe fruit of this tree; but it happened that Eve sitting solitary underthis tree, without her husband, there came to her a serpent or adder, which (though I know not by what means or power) civilly accosted thewoman (if we may judge of the thing by the event) in these words, or tothis purpose:-- *

 * We extract this portion not for its merits of buffoonery, but to show the real state of mind which could actuate a dignitary of the Church of England in writing it, as the eighth chapter is by far the most philosophical, but we wish to show Burnet's real sentiments. 

"Serpent. --All hail, most fair one, what are you doing so solitary andserious under this shade?

"Eve. --I am contemplating the beauty of this tree. 

"Serp. --'Tis truly an agreeable sight, but much pleasanter are thefruits thereof. Have you tasted them, my lady?

"Eve. --I have not, because God has forbidden us to eat of this tree. 

"Serp. --What do I hear! What is that God that envies his creatures theinnocent delights of nature? Nothing is sweeter, nothing more wholesomethan this fruit: why, then, should he forbid it, unless in jest?

"Eve. --But he has forbid it us on pain of death. 

"Serp. --Undoubtedly you mistake his meaning. This tree has nothing thatwould prove fatal to you, but rather something divine, and above thecommon order of nature. 

"Eve. --I can give you no answer; but will go to my husband, and then doas he thinks fit. 

"Serp. --Why should you trouble your husband over such a trifle! Use yourown judgment. 

"Eve. --Let me see--had I best use it or not? What 'can be morebeautiful than this apple? How sweetly it smells! But it may be ittastes ill. 

"Serp. --Believe me, it is a bit worthy to be eaten by the angelsthemselves; do but try, and if it tastes ill, throw it away. 

"Eve. --Well, I'll try. It has, indeed, a most agreeable flavor. Give meanother that I may carry it to my husband. 

"Serp. --Very well thought on; here's another for you: go to your husbandwith it. Farewell, happy young woman. In the meantime I'll go my ways;let her take care of the rest. 

"Accordingly, Eve gave the apple to the too uxorious Adam, whenimmediately after their eating of it, they became both (I don't knowhow) ashamed of their nakedness, and sewing fig leaves together, makingthemselves a sort of aprons, etc. After these transactions, God, in theevening, descended into the garden, upon which our first parents fledto hide themselves in the thickest of the trees, but in vain, for Godcalled out, 'Adam, where art thou?' When he, trembling, appeared beforeGod Almighty, and said, Lord, when I heard thee in this garden, I wasashamed because of my nakedness, and hid myself amongst the most shadyparts of the thicket. Who told thee, says God, that thou wast naked?Have you eaten of the forbidden fruit? That woman thou gavest me broughtit; 'twas she that made me eat of it. You have, says God, finely orderedyour business, you and your wife. Here, you woman, what is this that youhave done? Alas! for me, says Adam, thy serpent gave me the apple, and Idid eat of it. 

"This apple shall cost you dear, replied God, and not only you, but yourposterity, and the whole race of mankind. Moreover, for this crime, Iwill curse and spoil the heavens, the earth, and the whole fabricof nature. But thou, in the first place, vile beast, shall bear thepunishment of thy craftiness and malice. Hereafter shall thou gocreeping on thy belly, and instead of eating apples, shall lick the dustof the earth. As for you, Mrs. Curious, who so much love delicacies, insorrow-shall you bring forth your children. You shall be subject toyour husband, and shall never depart from his side unless having firstobtained leave. Lastly, as for you, Adam, because you have hearkenedmore to your wife than to me, with the sweat of your brow shall youobtain both food for her and her children. You shall not gather fruitswhich, as heretofore, grew of themselves, but shall reap the fruitsof the earth with labor and trouble. May the earth be, for thy sake, accursed--hereafter grow barren. May she produce thistles, thorns, tares, with other hurtful and unprofitable herbs, and when thou hasthere led a troublesome, laborious life, dust thou art, to dust shaltthou return. .. .. . 

"Great is the force of custom and a preconceived opinion over humanminds. Wherefore, these short observations of the first originals of menor things, which we receive from Moses, are embraced without the leastexamination of them. But had we read the same doctrine in a Greekphilosopher, or in a Rabbinical or Mahometan doctor, we should havestopped at every sentence with our mind full of objections and scruples. Now, this difference does not arise from the nature of the thing itself, but from the great opinion we have of the authority of the writer 'asbeing divinely inspired. ' The author here defines his ideas in referenceto fabulous writings, after which he proceeds in his inquiry. 'Butout of what matter the first of mankind, whether, male or female, wascomposed, is not so easily known. If God had a mind to make a womanstart from one of Adam's ribs, it is true it seems to be a matter notvery proper; but, however, out of wood, stone, or any other being Godcan make a woman; and here, by the bye, the curious ask whether this ribwas useless to Adam, and beyond the number requisite in a completebody. If not, when it was taken away, Adam would be a maimed person, androbbed of a part of himself that was necessary. I say necessary, foras much, as I suppose, that in the fabric of a human body nothing issuperfluous, and that no one bone can be taken away without endangeringthe whole, or rendering it, in some measure, imperfect. But it, on theother side, you say this rib was really useless to Adam, and might bespared, so that you make him to have only twelve ribs on one side andthirteen on the other, they will reply that this is like a monster, as much as if the first man had been created with three feet, or threehands, or had had more eyes, or other members, than the use of a humanbody requires. But in the beginning we cannot but suppose that allthings were made with all imaginable exactness. 

"For my part, I do not pretend to decide this dispute, but what moreperplexes me is, how, out of one rib, the whole mass of a woman's bodycould be built? For a rib does not, perhaps, equal the thousandth partof an entire body. If you answer that the rest of the matter was takenfrom elsewhere, certainly, then, Eve might much more truly be said tohave been formed out of that borrowed matter, whatever it was, than outof Adam's rib. I know that the Rabbinical doctors solve this businessquite another way, for they say the first man had two bodies, the onemale, the other female, who were joined together, and that God havingcloven them asunder, gave one side to Adam for a wife. Plato has, in his'Symposium, ' something very like this story, concerning his first man, Anoroginus, who was afterwards divided into two parts, male and female. Lastly, others conjecture that Moses gave out this original of woman tothe end that he might inspire a mutual love between the two sexes, asparts of one and the same whole, so as more effectually to recommend hisown institution of marriage. .. . But leaving this subject, I will hastento something else. 

"Now, the second article treats of God's, garden in Eden, watered withfour rivers arising from the same spring. .. . Those rivers are, by Moses, called Pishon, Gishon, Hiddekal, and Perath, which the ancient authorsinterpret by Ganges, Nile, Tigris, and Euphrates. Nor do I truly thinkwithout some reason, for Moses seems to have proposed nothing more thanthe bringing four of the most celebrated rivers of the whole earth tothe watering of his garden. Ah! but, say you, these four rivers do notspring from the same source, or come from the same place; 'tis true, norany other four rivers that are named by the interpreters. Whereforethis objection will everywhere hold good, as well against the ancientas modern writers. --But although you should reduce these rivers to onlytwo, as some do, to Tigris and Euphrates, yet neither have these tworivers the same fountain-head, but this is really and truly an evasion, instead of an explanation, to reduce, contrary to the history of Moses, a greater number of rivers to a smaller, only that they may the moreconveniently be reduced to the same spring; for these are the words ofMoses, 'But there comes a river out of Eden to water the garden, andfrom thence it divides itself into four branches, the name of the firstis Pishon, ' etc. , whereby it is apparent that either in the exit or inthe entrance of the garden there were four rivers, and that these fourrivers did one and all proceed from the same fountain-head in Eden. Now, pray tell me in what part of the earth is this country of Eden, wherefour rivers arise from one and the same spring? But do not go about tosay that only two came from that fountain of Eden, and that the othertwo arose from the Tigris or the Euphrates, where they split near thesea, and make, as it were, a bifrontic figure, since this does by nomeans answer the words of Moses. Besides, he mentions in the first placePishon and Gishon, and afterwards Tigris and Euphrates as lesser rivers;whereas you, on the contrary, will have those to be derived from theselast as rivers of an inferior order, which is a manifest distorting ofthe historical account. But to end all these difficulties concerningthe channels of the rivers which watered Paradise, you will, perhaps, atlast say, that the springs, as well as the courses of rivers, have beenchanged by the universal deluge: and that we cannot now be certainwhere it was they burst over the earth, and what countries they passedthrough. For my part I am much of your opinion, providing you confessthere happened in the deluge such a disruption of the earth as wesuppose there did. But from only an inundation of waters such a changecould never happen. Besides, what geography will you have Moses todescribe these rivers, ante-diluvian or post-diluvian'?--If the latter, there has happened no considerable alteration of the earth since thetime of Moses and the flood. If the former, you then render Moses'sdescription of the earth totally superfluous and unuseful to discoverthe situation of Paradise. Lastly, it is hard to conceive that anyrivers, whether these or others, can have subsisted ever since the firstbeginning of the world; whether you have regard to their water or theirchannels. The channels of rivers are made by daily attrition; for ifthey had been made as ditches and furrows are, by earth dug out andheaped on each side, there would certainly have been seen everywheregreat banks of earth. But we plainly see that this is only fortuitous;forasmuch as they often run through plains, and the river banks are nomore than level with the adjacent fields; besides, whence could there behad water at the beginning of the world to fill these channels? If yousay, that on the third day, when the great bed of the ocean was made, the smaller channels of the rivers were also: and as the greatestpart of the waters of the abyss fell into the gulf of the seas, so theremaining part descended into these other channels, and therewith formedthe primitive rivers. Admitting this, yet the waters would not only beas salt as those of the sea, but there would be no continual springsto nourish these rivers; insomuch as when the first stream of water hadflown off, there being no fresh supplies of water to succeed it, theserivers would have been immediately dried up; I say because there wereno perpetual springs; for whether springs proceed from rain, or from thesea, they could neither way have rose in so short a time; not from rain, for it had not as yet rained; neither was it possible, that in the shortspace of one day, the waters of the abyss should run down from the mostinland places to the sea, and afterwards returning through ways thatwere never yet open to them, should strain themselves through the bowelsof the earth, and ascend to the heads of their rivers. But of rivers wehave said enough; let us now proceed to the rest. 

"We have, in the third place, a very strange account of a serpent thattalked with Eve, and enticed her to oppose God. I must confess, we havenot yet known that this beast could ever speak, or utter any sortof voice, beside hissing. But what shall we think Eve knew of thisbusiness? If she had taken it for a dumb animal, the very speech of itwould have so frightened her, that she would have fled from it. If, on the other side, the serpent had from the beginning been capable oftalking and haranguing, and only lost his speech for the crime of havingcorrupted the faith of Eve, certainly Moses would have been far frompassing over in silence this sort of punishment, and only mentioning thecurse of licking the dust. Besides this, will you have the particularspecies of serpents, or all the beasts in Paradise, to have been imbuedwith the faculty of speaking, like the trees in Dodona's grove? If yousay all, pray what offence had the rest been guilty of, that they alsoshould lose the use of their tongues? If only the serpent enjoyed thisprivilege, how came it about that so vile an animal (by nature the mostreverse and remote from man) should, before all his other fellow brutes, deserve to be master of so great a favor and benefit as that of speech?

"Lastly, since all discoursing and arguing includes the use of reason, by this very thing you make the serpent a rational creature. ButI imagine you will solve this difficulty another way; for (say thesticklers for a literal interpretation) under the disguise of a serpentwas hid the Devil, or an evil spirit, who, using the mouth and organsof this animal, spoke to the woman as though it were a human voice. Butwhat testimony or what authority have they for this? The most literalreading of Moses, which they so closely adhere to, does not expressanything of it; for what else does he seem to say, but that heattributes the seducing of Eve to the natural craftiness of the serpent, and nothing else? For these are Moses's words:--'Now the serpent wasmore cunning than any beast of the field that the Lord God had made. 'Afterwards, continues he:--'The serpent said to the woman, yea, hath Godsaid, ' etc. --But besides, had Eve heard an animal, by nature dumb, speakthrough the means of some evil spirit, she would instantly havefled with horror from the monster. --When, on the contrary, she veryfamiliarly received it; they argued very amicably together, as thoughnothing new or astonishing had taken place. Again, if you say that allthis proceeded from the ignorance or weakness of a woman, it would onthe other side have been but just, that some good angels should havesuccoured a poor, ignorant, weak woman; those just guardians of humanaffairs would not have permitted so unequal a conflict; for what ifan evil spirit, crafty and knowing in business, had, by his subtlety, overreached a poor, weak, and silly woman, who had not as yet, eitherseen the sun rise or set, who was but newly born, and thoroughlyinexperienced. Certainly, a person who had so great a price set upon herhead, as the salvation of all mankind, might well have deserved a guardof angels. Aye, but perhaps (you will say) the woman ought to have takencare not to violate a law established on pain of death. 'The day you eatof it you shall surely die, ', both you and yours; this was the law. Die!what does that mean, says the poor, innocent virgin, who as yet had notseen anything dead, no, not so much as a flower; nor had yet with hereyes or mind perceived the image of death--viz. , sleep, or night? Butwhat you add concerning his posterity and their punishment, that isnot all expressed in the law. Now no laws are ever to so distorted, especially those that are penal. The punishment of the serpent will alsoafford no inconsiderable question, if the Devil transacted the wholething under the form of a serpent; or if he compelled the serpent to do, or to suffer things, why did he (the serpent) pay for a crime committedby the Devil? Moreover, as to the manner and form of the punishmentinflicted on the serpent, that from that time he should go creeping onhis belly, it is not to be explained what that meant. Hardly any onewill say, that prior to his catastrophe the serpent walked upright, likefour footed beasts; and if, from the beginning, he crept on his bellylike other snakes, it may seem ridiculous to impose on this creature asa punishment for one single crime, a thing which, by nature, he ever hadbefore. But let this suffice for the woman and serpent; let us now goon to the trees. I here understand those two trees, which stood in themiddle of the garden, the tree of life, and the tree of good and evil. The former so called, that it would give men a very long life, although, by what follows, we find our forefathers, prior to the flood, livedto very great ages, independent of the tree of life. Besides, if thelongevity, or immortality of man had depended only upon one tree, or itsfruit, what if Adam had not sinned? how could his posterity, diffusedthroughout the whole earth, have been able to come and gather fruit outof this garden, or from this tree? or how could the product of one treehave been sufficient for all mankind?"

Such is a condensed abstract of Dr. Burnet's seventh chapter of"Archæologia. " The eighth chapter equals the above in boldness; but farexceeds it in breadth of logic and critical acumen, without, however, appearing so iconoclastic or so vulgar. The next chapter abounds inclassical quotations, the Creation of the world and the Deluge is thetheme on which so much is advanced, at a time when such language wasgreeted with the stake and the prison. We cannot calculate the effect ofBurnet's works on the clerical mind; but this we do know, that since hisday, there has progressed an internal revolution in the tenets of thechurch, which, in the last generation, gave birth to the neology, now sodestructive of the internal peace of the churches. Neology has not comefrom Deism, for this power assails the outworks of Christianity; whilethe school of criticism is but a severe pruning knife of internalverbiage. Although the language quoted is harsh, the argumentscommon-place, which, although true, are now discarded by the educatedFreethinker; yet if for no stronger language than this men wereimprisoned only ten years ago, what must we say to the moral couragewhich could publish them 150 years ago? There must surely have beengreater risks than in our day; and when a man dare hazard the highestpower of the church for the duty of publishing unpopular sentiments, it is clearly our duty to; enshrine him as one of the guardians of thatliberty of thought, and speech, which have won for us a freedom. We cherish and protect. Let the earth then lie lightly over thepriest-Freethinker, Thomas Burnet. 

A. C. 

THOMAS PAINE. 

 "The wise by some centuries before the crowd, Must, by their novel systems, though correct, Of course offend the wicked, weak, and proud, Must meet with hatred, calumny, neglect. "

Thomas Paine, "the sturdy champion of political and religious liberty, "was born at Thetford, in the County of Norfolk, (Eng. , ) 29th of January, 1737. Born of religious parents (his father being a Quaker, and hismother a member of the Church of England, ) Paine received a religiouseducation at Thetford Grammar School, under the Rev. William Knowles. At an early age he gave indications of his great talent, and foundpleasure, when a boy, in studying poetical authors. His parents, however, endeavored to check his taste for poetry, his father probablythinking it would unfit him for the denomination to which _he_ belonged. But Paine did not lose much time before experimenting in poetry himself. Hence we find him, when eight years of age, composing the followingepitaph, upon a fly being caught in a spider's web:--

 "Here lies the body of John Crow, Who once was high, but now is low; Ye brother Crows take warning all, For as you rise, so you must fall. "

At the age of thirteen, after receiving a moderate education in reading, writing, and arithmetic, Paine left school, to follow his father'strade (stay-making. ) Although disliking the business, he pursuedthis avocation for nearly five years. When about twenty years of age, however, he felt--as most enterprising young men do feel--a desireto visit London, and enter into the competition and chances of ametropolitan life. His natural dislike to his father's business led himto abandon for a period his original occupation, and, after working sometime with Mr. Morris, a noted stay-maker, in Long Acre, he resolved upona seafaring adventure, of which he thus speaks:--

"At an early age, raw, adventurous, and heated with the false Heroismof a master [Rev. Mr. Knowles, Master of the Grammar School at Thetford]who had served in a man-of-war, I began my fortune, and entered on boardthe Terrible, Captain Death, from this adventure I was happily preventedby the affectionate and moral remonstrances of a good father, who fromthe habits of his life, being of the Quaker profession, looked on me aslost; but the impression, much as it affected me at the time, woreaway, and I entered afterwards in the King of Prussia privateer, CaptainMender, and went with her to sea. "

Sea life did not, as may be supposed, long satisfy a mind like Paine's. In April, 1759, after working nearly twelve months at Dover, we findhim settled as master stay-maker at Sandwich; marrying, on September27, Mary Lambert, daughter of an Exciseman of that place. But hismatrimonial happiness was of short duration, his wife dying thefollowing year. 

Disgusted with the toil and inconvenience of his late occupation, Paine now renounced it forever, to apply himself to the profession ofExciseman. After fourteen months' study he obtained the appointment ofsupernumerary in the Excise, which he held, with intervals, till 1768, when he settled as Exciseman at Lewes, in Sussex, and married, 1771, Elizabeth Olive, daughter of a tobacconist, whose business he succeededto. About this time Paine wrote several little pieces, in prose andverse, among which was the celebrated song on the "Death of GeneralWolfe, " and "The Trial of Farmer Carter's Dog, Porter. " The latter is acomposition of "exquisite wit and humor. "

In 1772 the Excise officers throughout the kingdom were dissatisfiedwith their salaries, and formed a plan to apply to Parliament for anincrease. Paine being distinguished among them as a man of greattalent, was solicited to draw up and state their case, which he did in apamphlet entitled "The Case of the Salary of the Officers of Excise, andThoughts on the Corruption arising from the Poverty of Excise Officers. "Four thousand copies of this pamphlet were printed and circulated. Sometime after this publication, Paine, being in the grocery business, was_suspected_ of unfair practices, and was dismissed the Excise, afterbeing in it twelve years. This _suspicion_, however, was never shownto be just. But to show how _very vigorous_ the authorities were in_suppressing_ smuggling, we will quote the following letter from ClioRickman to the Editor of the Independent Whig, in October, 1807:--

"Sir, --If there are any characters more to be abhorred than others, it is those who inflict severe punishments against offenders, and yetthemselves commit the same crimes. 

"If any characters more than others deserve execration, exposure, andto be driven from among mankind, it is those governors of the people whobreak the laws they themselves make, and punish others for breaking. 

"Suffer me, Mr. Editor, thus to preface the following fact; fact, I say, because I stand ready to prove it so. 

"When Admiral Duncan rendezvoused in the Downs with his fleet, on the8th of January, 1806, the Spider lugger, Daniel Falara, master, was sentto Guernsey to smuggle articles for the fleet, such as wine, spirits, hair powder, playing cards, tobacco, etc. , for the supply of thedifferent ships. 

"At her arrival in the Downs, the ships' boats flocked round herto unload her and her contraband cargo. A Custom House extra boat, commanded by William Wallace, seeing the lugger, followed and took her;in doing which he did his duty. 

"On his inspecting the smuggled articles with which she was laden, hefound a number of cases directed to Admiral Duncan, the Right HonorableWilliam Pitt, the heaven-born Minister of England, and to the RightHonorable Henry Dundas, Walmer Castle. In a few days, Wallace, themaster of the Custom House cutter, received orders from Government togive the lugger and her smuggled cargo up, on penalty of being dismissedthe service; and these cases of smuggled goods were afterwards deliveredat the Prime Ministers, Mr. Pitt, at Walmer Castle. 

"Mr. Editor, read what follows, and repress your indignation if you can. 

"There are now in Deal jail fourteen persons for trifling acts ofsmuggling compared to the above of the Right Honorable William Pitt andthe now Right Honorable Lord Melville. 

"The former were poor, and knew not how to live, the latter were mostaffluently and splendidly supported by the people--that is, they werepaupers upon the generous public, towards whom they thus scandalouslyand infamously conducted themselves. 

"I am, Sir, your humble servant, "Clio Rickman. "

To those opponents of Thomas Paine who attach any weight to hisdismissal from the Excise on suspicion of smuggling, we would mentionthe fact, that during Paine's service at Lewes, Mr. Jenner, theprincipal clerk in the Excise Office, London, wrote several lettersfrom the Board of Excise, "thanking Mr. Paine for his assiduity in hisprofession, and for his information and calculations forwarded to theoffice. " Shortly-after his dismissal, Mr. Paine and his wife, by mutualagreement, separated. Many tales have been put in circulation respectingthe separation. Clio Rickman, in his "Life of Paine, " has the followingpassage:---

"That he did not cohabit with her from the moment they left the altartill the day of their separation, a space of three years, although theylived in the same house together, is an indubitable truth. It is alsotrue, that no physical defect, on the part of Mr. Paine, can be adducedas a reason for such conduct. .. . Mr. Paine's answer, upon my oncereferring to this subject, was, 'It is nobody's business but my own: Ihad cause for it, but I will name it to no one. '. .. . This I can assert, that Mr. Paine always spoke tenderly and respectfully of his wife; andsent her several times pecuniary aid, without her knowing even whence itcame. "

In 1774 Paine left England, and arrived at Philadelphia a few monthsbefore the battle of Lexington. He made his appearance in the New Worldas editor of the Pennsylvanian Magazine; and it would appear that hethen had in view the coming struggle, in which he took so prominent apart, for in his introduction to the first number of the above Magazinehe states:--"Thus encompassed with difficulties, this first number ofthe Pennsylvanian Magazine entreats a favorable reception; of which weshall only say, that like the early snowdrop, it comes forth in a barrenseason, and contents itself with foretelling the reader that choicerflowers are preparing to appear. " Upon the foreign supply of gunpowderbeing prohibited, he proposed a plan, in the Pennsylvanian Journal, ofa saltpetre association for the voluntary supply of that article ofdestruction. 

On the 10th of January, 1776, "Common Sense" was published, itscirculation soon reaching 100, 000 copies. The effect this remarkablepamphlet produced upon the minds of the American people, and the shareit had in bringing to a successful issue the then pending struggle, maybe gathered even from Paine's bitterest enemies. Mr. Cheetham, in his"Life of Paine, " while endeavoring to damage the author of "CommonSense, " admits the value of this pamphlet. He says:--"This pamphlet offorty octavo pages, holding out relief by proposing Independence toan oppressed and despairing people, was published in January, 1776;speaking a language which the colonists had felt, but not thought of. Its popularity, terrible in its consequences to the parent country, was unexampled in the history of the press. At first involving thecolonists, in the crime of rebellion, and pointing to a road leadinginevitably to ruin, it was read with indignation and alarm; but whenthe reader--and every one read it--recovering from the first shock, re-perused it, its arguments nourishing his feelings and appealing tohis pride, re-animated his hopes, and satisfied his understanding that'Common Sense, ' backed by the resources and force of the colonies, poorand feeble as they were, could alone rescue them from the unqualifiedoppression with which they were threatened. The unknown author, in themoments of enthusiasm which succeeded, was an angel sent from heavento save from all the horrors of slavery by his timely, powerful, andunerring councils, a faithful but abused, a brave but misrepresentedpeople. " Another of Paine's enemies and slanderers--Elkanah Watson--ina volume recently published, entitled "Men and Times of the Revolution, "after speaking in very disparaging terms of Paine's appearance, habits, and disposition (which is proved false by the best of testimony, ) admitsthe service rendered to America by "Common Sense. " He says:--"Yet Icould not repress the deepest emotions of gratitude towards him, asthe instrument of Providence in accelerating the declaration of ourIndependence. He certainly was a prominent agent in preparing the publicsentiment of America for that glorious event. The idea of Independencehad not occupied the popular mind, and when guardedly approached on thetopic, it shrunk from the conception, as fraught with doubt, with peril, and with suffering. In 1776 I was present at Providence, Rhode Island, in a social assembly of most of the prominent leaders of the State. Irecollect that the subject of Independence was cautiously introduced byan ardent Whig, and the thought seemed to excite the abhorrence of thewhole circle. A few weeks after, Paine's 'Common Sense' appeared, andpassed through the continent like an electric spark. It everywhereflashed conviction, and aroused a determined spirit, which resulted inthe Declaration of Independence, upon the 4th of July ensuing. The nameof Paine was precious to every Whig heart, and had resounded throughoutEurope. " Other testimony could be given to Paine's influence in theAmerican struggle for Independence; but after the two already mentionedfrom his opponents, it is unnecessary to give further proof. 

In the same year that "Common Sense" appeared, Paine accompanied GeneralWashington and his army, being with him in his retreat from Hudson Riverto the Delaware. Although great terror prevailed, Paine stood brave andundismayed, conscious he was advocating a just cause, and determined tobring it to a successful issue. He occupied himself in inspiring hopein the Americans, showing them their strength and their weakness. Thisobject drew from his pen "The Crisis, " a continuation of the"Common Sense, " which was issued at intervals till the cessation ofhostilities. 

In 1777 Paine was unanimously, and unknown to himself, appointedSecretary in the Foreign Department, where he formed a close friendshipwith Dr. Franklin. He did not retain his office, however, long, ashe refused to become a party to the fraudulent demands of a Mr. SilasDeane, one of the American Commissioners, then in Europe; and heresigned the office. 

In 1780 he was chosen member of the American Philosophical Society, having previously received the degree of Master of Arts from theUniversity of Philadelphia. 

When the Independence of America was attained, and when oppression hadreceived a severe and lasting check in that rising country, we find thatPaine, so far from being satisfied with his success in the New World, began to look for a fresh field where he might render good service tothe cause of right and freedom. Accordingly, in 1787. He visited Paris, his famous services to America giving him a welcome by those who knewthe benefit arising from the establishment of human rights. His stay inParis, at this time, was of short duration, as he returned to Englandafter an absence of thirteen years, on September 3rd. After visitinghis mother, and settling an allowance of nine shillings per week for hersupport, he resided for a short time at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, wherean iron bridge was cast and erected upon a model of his invention, whichobtained him great reputation for his mathematical skill. 

The publication of "Mr. Burke's Reflections on the French Revolution"called from Paine his "Rights of Man, " a book that created greatattraction, and sold nearly a million and a half of copies. In politicsPaine was clear and decided, and, from his moderation, what is called"sound. " For the perusal of those who may not have read it, we give thefollowing quotations, to show the principles upon which it is based:--

"Mr. Burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if itwere some production of nature; or as if, like time, it had a power tooperate, not only independently, but in spite of man; or as if it were athing or a subject universally consented to. Alas! it has none ofthose properties, but is the reverse of them all. It is a thing inimagination, the property of which is more than doubted, and thelegality of which in a few years will be denied. But, to arrange thismatter in a clearer view than what general expressions can convey, it will be necessary to state the distinct heads under which (what iscalled) an hereditary crown, or, more properly speaking, an hereditarysuccession to the government of a nation, can be considered; which are, first, the right of a particular family to establish itself; secondly, the right of a nation to establish a particular family. With respect tothe _first_ of these heads, that of a family establishing itself withheredity powers on its own authority, and independent of the consent ofa nation, all men will concur in calling it despotism: and it wouldbe trespassing on their understanding to attempt to prove it. But the_second_ head, that of a nation establishing a particular family with_hereditary powers_, does not present itself as despotism on the firstreflection; but if men will permit a second reflection to take place, and carry that reflection forward but one remove out of their ownpersons to that of their offspring, they will then see that hereditarysuccession becomes in its consequences the same despotism to others, which they reprobated for themselves. It operates to preclude theconsent of the succeeding generations; and the preclusion of consent isdespotism. When the person who at any time shall be in possession ofa government, or those who stand in succession to him, shall say to anation, I hold this power in 'contempt' of you, it signifies not on whatauthority he pretends to say it. It is no relief, but an aggravation toa person in slavery, to reflect that he was sold by his parent; and asthat which heightens the criminality of an act cannot be produced toprove the legality of it, hereditary succession cannot be established asa legal thing. .. . Notwithstanding the taxes of England amount to almostseventeen millions a year, said to be for the expenses of Government, itis still evident that the sense of the nation is left to govern itselfby magistrates and jurors, almost at its own charge, on Republicanprinciples, exclusive of the expense of taxes. The salaries of thejudges are almost the only charge that is paid out of the revenue. Considering that all the internal government is executed by the people, the taxes of England ought to be the lightest of any nation in Europe;instead of which they are the contrary. As this cannot be accounted foron the score of civil government, the subject necessarily extends itselfto the monarchical part. .. .. If a law be bad, it is one thing to opposethe practice of it, but it is quite a different thing to expose itserrors, to reason on its defects, and show cause why it should berepealed, or why another ought to be substituted in its place. I havealways held it an opinion (making it also my practice) that it is betterto obey a bad law, making use at the same time of every argument to showits errors and procure its repeal, than forcibly to violate it; becausethe precedent of breaking a bad law might weaken the force, and lead toa discretionary violation, of those which are good. "

As may be supposed, such a work as "The Rights of Man, " aiming directlyat all oppression, regardless of party, could not be allowed to escapethe Attorney-General's _answer_. Accordingly, we find a prosecutioninstituted against it. But instead of prosecuting the author, thepublishers were selected. This drew from Paine a long Letter to theAttorney-General, suggesting the justice of _his_ answering for the bookhe wrote. On the trial, Mr. (afterwards Lord) Erskine thus spoke ofthe author of "The Rights of Man:"--"The defendant's whole deportmentprevious to the publication has been wholly unexceptionable; he properlydesired to be given up as the author of the book, if any inquiry shouldtake place concerning it; and he is not affected in evidence, directlyor indirectly, with any illegal or suspicious conduct, not even withuttering an indiscreet or taunting expression, nor with any one matteror thing inconsistent with the best subject in England. "

On the 12th of September, 1792, Mr. Achilles Audibert came expressly toEngland, from the French Convention, to solicit Paine to attend and aidthem, by his advice, in their deliberations. "On his arrival at Calaisa public dinner was provided, a royal salute was fired from the battery, the troops were drawn out, and there was a general rejoicing throughoutthe town. .. . Paine was escorted to the house of his friend, Mr. Audibert, the Chief Magistrate of the place, where he was visited by theCommandant, and all the Municipal Officers in forms, who afterwards gavehim a sumptuous entertainment in the Town Hall. The same honor was alsopaid him on his departure for Paris. " Upon his arrival in Paris allwas confusion. There were the King's friends mortified and subdued, the Jacobins split up into cavilling faction, some wishing a federativegovernment, some desiring the King's death, and the death of all thenobility; while a portion were more discreet, wishing liberty withoutlicentiousness, and having a desire to redress wrongs without revenge. These few accepted Paine as their leader, and renounced all connectionwith the Jacobin Club. 

Paine, on all occasions, advocated the preservation of the King's lifebut his efforts were thwarted by the appointment, by Robespierre, ofBarrere to office. So anxiously was Paine sought after, that both Calaisand Versailles returned him as Deputy. To show how the author of "TheRights of Man" opposed all physical force where reason may be used, itis only necessary to state, that when the Letter of Dumourier reachedParis with the threat of restoring the King, Paine wrote a letter tothe Convention, stating a plan for re-adjustment, and was taking itpersonally, when he was informed "that a decree had just been passedoffering one hundred thousand crowns for Dumourier's head; and another, making it high treason to propose anything in his favor. " Whilst Deputyfor Calais, Paine was sought and admired by all classes. He dined everyFriday, for a long period, with the Earl of Lauderdale and Dr. Moore;and so frequent were his visitors, that he set apart two mornings aweek for his _levee_ days. --He soon, however, changed his residence, preferring less formality and a more select circle. His "History of theFrench Revolution" we are deprived of by his imprisonment, which Gibbonthought would prove a great loss. The historian often applied for theMS. , believing it to be of great worth. The opinion Paine held of theRevolution may be gathered from the following:--

"With respect to the Revolution, it was begun by good men, on goodprinciples, and I have ever believed it would have gone on so, hadnot the provocative interference of foreign powers distracted it intomadness, and sown jealousies among the leaders. The people of Englandhave now two Revolutions, the American and the French before them. Theirown wisdom will direct them what to _choose_ and what to _avoid_, andin everything which relates to their happiness, combined with the commongood of mankind, I wish them honor and success. "

His speech against the death of the King, shows how far he was removedfrom party spirit or any feeling of revenge. Whilst he protested againstthe King being re-enthroned, he equally protested against his death, wishing him removed from the seat of his corruption, and placed ina more elevating atmosphere. --Entreating for the King's safety, hesays:--"Let then the United States be the safeguard and the asylum ofLouis Capet. There, hereafter, far removed from the miseries and crimesof royalty, he may learn, from the constant aspect of public prosperity, that the true system of government consists in fair, equal, andhonora-able representation. In relating this circumstance, and insubmitting this proposition, I consider myself as a citizen of bothcountries. "

The policy pursued by Paine was not consonant with the views ofRobespierre. Consequently, he was seized in the night and imprisonedin the Luxembourg eleven months, without any reason being assigned. Thereaders are doubtless aware of the many _Providential_ escapes he hadfrom the death for which he was seized. While in prison he wrote part ofhis "Age of Reason, " (having commenced it just previous to his arrest)not Knowing one hour but he might be executed, and once being on theverge of death from fever. He knew the prejudice the "Age of Reason"would create, so he left its production to the latter part of hislife, not wishing to make _that_ an impediment to the good he sought toaccomplish in the Political world. 

After toiling in France to bring the Revolution to a _just_ termination, and finding his efforts rendered abortive by that feeling which _formeroppression had created_, he resolved to return to America, a country hesaw thriving by a policy he wished to institute in France. 

In 1802, Jefferson, then President of America, knowing his wish toreturn, wrote him the following letter:--

"You express a wish in your letter to return to America by a nationalship. Mr. Dawson, who brings over the treaty, and who will present youwith this letter, is charged with orders to the captain of the Maryland, to receive and accommodate you back if you can be ready to return atsuch a short warning. You will in general find us returned to sentimentsworthy of former times; in these it will be your glory to have steadilylabored, and with as much effect as any man living. That you maylive long to continue your useful labors, and reap the reward in thethankfulness of nations, is my sin cere prayer. 

"Accept the assurance of my high esteem and affectionate attachment, "Thomas Jefferson. "

But circumstances prevented Paine going by the Maryland. He sailed, however, on the 1st of September, 1802, in the London Pacquet. Hehad often previously arranged to return to America, but luckily, _Providence_ prevented him. One ship that he intended to sail by, wassearched by English frigates for Thomas Paine, and another sunk at sea, whilst at other times British frigates were cruising off the ports fromwhich he was to sail, knowing him to be there. 

So much religious misrepresentation has been circulated about Paine'slife and death, that it becomes a duty to restate the _facts_. Themanner of life Paine pursued may be gathered from the _reliable_testimony of Clio Rickman. He says, "Mr. Paine's life in London was aquiet round of philosophical leisure and enjoyment. It was occupied inwriting, in a small epistolary correspondence, in walking about with meto visit different friends, occasionally lounging at coffeehouses andpublic places, or being visited by a select few. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, the French and American ambassadors, Mr. Sharp the engraver, Romney, thepainter, Mrs. Wolstonecraft, Joel Barlow, Mr. Hull, Mr. Christie, Dr. Priestley, Dr. Towers, Colonel Oswald, the walking Stewart, CaptainSampson Perry, Mr. Tuffin, Mr. William Choppin, Captain De Stark, Mr. Home Tooke, etc. , were among the number of his friends andacquaintances. " His manner of living in France and America has alreadybeen noticed. 

The perverted tales of Carver and Cheetham may be utterly disproved byreferring to Clio Rickman's "Life of Paine. " As his life, so was hisdeath. When he became feeble and infirm (in Jan. 1809) he was oftenvisited by those "good people" who so often intrude upon the domesticquiet of the afflicted. After the visit of an old woman, "come from theAlmighty, " (whom Paine soon sent back again) he was troubled with theRev. Mr. Milledollar, and the Rev. Mr. Cunningham. The latter reverendsaid, "Mr. Paine, we visit you as friends and neighbors; you have now afull view of death, you cannot live long; and whoever does not believein Jesus Christ, will assuredly be damned. " "Let me, " said Paine, "have none of your Popish stuff; get away with you; good morning, good morning. " Another visitor was the Rev. Mr. Hargrove, with thisstatement:--"My name is Hargrove, Sir; I am minister of the newJerusalem church; we, Sir, explain the scripture in its true meaning;the key has been lost these four thousand years, and we have found It. ""Then, " said Paine, in his own neat way, "it must have been very rusty. "Shortly before his death, he stated to Mr. Hicks, to whom he had sentto arrange his burial? that his sentiments in reference to the Christianreligion were precisely the same as when he wrote the "Age of Reason. "On the 8th of June, (in the words of Clio Rickman) 1809. About nine inthe morning, he placidly, and almost without a struggle, died as he hadlived, a Deist, aged seventy-two years and five months. He was interredat New Rochelle, upon his own farm; a handsome monument being nowerected where he was buried. 

It has been the object in the present sketch rather to give, in a briefmanner, an account of Paine's life and services, than an elucidationof his writings. His works are well known, and _they_ will speak forthemselves but much wrong is done to his memory by the perversions andmisrepresentations of the religious publications. No doubt had his viewsbeen different on "religious" subjects, he would have been held up asa model of genius, perseverance, courage, disinterestedness of purpose, and purity of life, by the men who now find him no better name than the"Blasphemer. " We hope that those not previously acquainted with thefacts of his life, will find in the present sketch sufficient reason tothink and speak otherwise of a man who made the world his country, andthe doing good his religion. 

 "As Euclid near his various writings shone, His pen inspired by glorious truth alone, O'er all the earth diffusing light and life, Subduing error, ignorance, and strife; Raised man to just pursuits, to thinking right, And yet will free the world from woe and falsehood's night; To this immortal man, to Paine 'twas given, To metamorphose earth from hell to heaven. "

J. W. 

BAPTISTE DE MIRABAUD

Jean Baptiste de Mirabaud was born at Paris, in the year 1675. Of hisearly life we can glean but very scanty information. He appears first tohave embraced the military profession, but it not being consonant withhis general character, he soon quitted the army, and devoted himself toliterature. He was, however, nearly forty-nine years of age beforehe became known in the literary world. He then published a Frenchtranslation of Tasso's "Jerusalem, " which brought him much fame; andmany of the contributors to the French Encyclopaedia appear to haveassociated with him, and courted his friendship. He was afterwardselected a member of the French Academy of which he became the Secretaryin 1742. Mirabaud was a constant visitor at the house of his friend, theBaron d'Holbach, down to the period of his death. He wrote "The World:its Origin and its Antiquity, " "Opinions of the Ancients upon the Jews, ""Sentiments of the Philosophers upon the Nature of the Soul, " and otherminor works. The "System of Nature" was also for many years attributedto Mirabaud, but it appears now to be extremely doubtful whether he everwrote a single line of the work. The Abbe Galiani was one of the firstwho pointed out D'Holbach as the author. In the memoirs of M. Suard, edited by M. Garat, the same hypothesis is supported with additionalfirmness. Dugald Stewart seems to put much faith in the latterauthority, as fixing the authorship of the "System of Nature" uponD'Holbach. Voltaire attributes the work to Damilaville, in a somewhatpositive manner, for which he is sharply criticised in the "BiographieUniverselle, " published in 1817. The "System of Nature" is a book ofwhich Dugald Stewart speaks, as "the boldest, if not the ablest work ofthe Parisian Atheists, " and it has undoubtedly obtained greatpopularity. Voltaire, who has written against the "System of Nature" ina tone of bitter sarcasm, and who complains of its general dullness andprolixity, yet admits that it is "often humorous, sometimes eloquent. "It certainly is not written in that lively, but rather superficialstyle, which has characterized many of the French writers, but it speaksin plain yet powerful language, evincing an extensive acquaintance withthe works of previous philosophers, and much thought in relation to thesubjects treated upon. Some of its pages exhibiting more vivacity thanthe rest of the book, have been attributed to Diderot, who (it isalleged by Marmontel and others) aided, by his pen and counsel, many ofthe Freethinking works issued during his life. 

The "System of Nature" was not published during the life-time ofMirabaud, and it is therefore impossible to use any argument which mighthave been based upon Mirabaud's conduct in relation to it. 

Mirabaud died in Paris in 1760, at the advanced age of nearly eighty-sixyears. Contemporary with him were D'Alembert, D'Holbach, Voltaire, Diderot, Helvetius, Condorcet, Buffon, Rousseau, Frederick II. OfPrussia, Montesquieu, Grimm, Sir William Tempte, Toland, Tindel, EdmundHalley, Hume, Gibbon, Adam Smith, Franklin, and Darwin, forming a _role_of names, whose fame will be handed down to posterity for centuries tocome, as workers in the cause of man's redemption from mental slavery. If (as it appears very probably) it be the fact that Mirabaud had butlittle part in the authorship of "La Système de la Nature, " D'Holbach, in using the name of his deceased friend, only associated him with awork which (judging from his other writings, the tenor of his life, andthe noble character of his associates) Mirabaud would have issued withpride himself, had the book been really written by him. 

BARON D'HOLBACH. 

Paul Thyry, Baron D'Holbach, was born at Heidesheim, in the Palatinate, in the month of January, 1723. His father appears to have been avery wealthy man, and brought his son to Paris, for the purpose ofsuperintending his education, but died white he was still a child. Inhis youth, D'Holbach appears to have been noted for his studious habitsand retentive faculties, and ultimately attained to some eminence inchemistry and mineralogy. He married when very young, and he had notbeen married one year when his wife died. He afterwards obtained adispensation from the Pope, and married his deceased wife's sister, bywhom he had four children, two sons and two daughters. 

D'Holbach appeared to have spent the greater part of his life in Paris, and for forty years he assembled around his table, every Sunday, the_elite_ of the literary world, including nearly the whole of those whotook part in the first Encyclopedia. If that table were only in thehands of some of our spirit friends of the present day, what brilliantanecdotes might it not rap out--the sparkling wit of Diderot, the goodhumor of out host, the hospitable and generous D'Holbach, the occasionalbitterness of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the cautious expression of opinionby D'Alembert, the agreeable variety of Montesquieu, and the boldenthusiasm of the youthful but hardworking Naigeon! If ever a table wereinclined to turn, this table should have been; but perhaps it may bethat tables never turn when reason is the ruler of those who sit around. 

It seems more than probable that D'Holbach at first held opinionsdiffering widely from those entertained by him during the later periodsof his life, and it is asserted that Diderot contributed much to thischange of opinion. D'Holbach was an amiable man of the world, fond ofamusement, and without pretension; he was, notwithstanding, well versedin Roman and Grecian literature, mathematics, chemistry, botany, andmodern languages. He was generous to every one. "I content myself, " hesaid, "with performing the disagreeable character of benefactor, when Iam forced to it. I do not wish to be repaid my money; but I am pleasedwhen I meet with some little gratitude, if it be only as proving thatthe persons I have assisted were such sort of men as I desired. "

Although about forty-five works are now ascribed to D'Holbach, notone of them was published during his life-time in his own name. Themanuscripts were taken to Amsterdam by Naigeon, and there printed byMichael Rey. D'Holbach never talked publicly of his literary productionshimself and his secrets seem to have been well kept by his friends. Several of the works were condemned and suppressed by the government;but D'Holbach lived unsuspected and unmolested. The expression used bythe Avocat, General Seguier, in his réquisitoire against the "Systemof Nature" is worthy of notice. The Avocat General said--"The restlessspirit of Infidelity, inimical to all dependence, endeavors to overthrowall political constitutions. Its wishes will not be satisfied untilit has destroyed the _necessary_ inequality of rank and condition, anduntil it has degraded the majesty of kings, and rendered their authoritysubordinate to the _caprices_ of the _mob_. " Note the three words wehave italicised. For the first read unnecessary; for the second, voice; for the third, peoples. We trust that Free-thought never will besatisfied until it has destroyed the unnecessary inequalities of rankand condition, and rendered it impossible for the authority of kings tobe enforced in opposition to the voice of the people. 

The following description of D'Holbach is given in a littlesketch, published by Mr. Watson in 1834, as taken from Grimm's"Correspondence:"--"D'Hol-bach's features were, taken separately, regular, and even handsome, yet he was not a handsome man. His forehead, large and open, like that of Diderot, indicated a vast and capaciousmind; but his forehead having fewer sinuosities, less roundness thanDiderot's, announced less warmth, less energy, and less fecundity ofideas. A craniologist would say that in both D'Holbach and Diderot, thephilosophical organs were largely developed, but that Diderot excelledin ideality; D'Holbach's countenance only indicated mildness, and thehabitual sincerity of his mind. He was incapable of personal hatred. Though he detested priests and Jesuits, and all other supporters ofdespotism and superstition; and though when speaking of such people, hismildness and good temper were sometimes transformed into bitterness andirritability; yet it is affirmed that when the Jesuits were expelledfrom France, D'Holbach regarded them as objects of commiseration and ofpity, and afforded them pecuniary assistance. "

The titles of D'Holbach's works may be found in Barbier's "Dictionaryof Anonymous Works, " and in St. Surins's article in the "BiographieUniverselle, " so in the little tract before mentioned as published by J. Watson. D'Holbach contributed largely to the first French Encyclopaedia, and other works of a like character. Of the "System of Nature" we havealready spoken, and shall rather leave our readers to the work itselfthan take up more space in discussing its authorship. 

After having lived a life of comfort, in affluent circumstances, and always surrounded by a large circle of the best men of the day, D'Holbach died on January the 21st, 1789, being, then sixty-six yearsof age. The priests have never pictured to us any scene of horrorin relation to his dying moments. The good old man died cheered andsupported in his last struggle by those men whom he had many timesassisted in the hard fighting of the battle of life. J. A. Naigeon, who had been his friend for thirty years; paid an eloquent tributeto D'Holbach's memory, in an article which appeared in the "Journal deParis" of February the 9th, 1789, and we are not aware that any man hasever written anything against D'Hol-bach's personal character. 

EXTRACTS FROM "THE SYSTEM OF NATURE. "

Although we may not attempt to express a decided opinion as to theauthorship of "Le Système de la Nature, " we feel it our duty to presentsome of its principal arguments to the consideration of our readers. Theauthor opens his work with this passage:--

"Man always deceives himself when he abandons experience to followimaginary systems. He is the work of nature. He exists in nature. He issubmitted to her laws. He cannot deliver himself from them. He cannotstep beyond them even in thought. It is in vain his mind would springforward beyond the visible world: an imperious necessity ever compelshis return--for a being formed by Nature, who is circumscribed by herlaws, there exists nothing beyond the great whole of which he forms apart, of which be experiences the influence. The beings his imaginationpictures as above Nature, or distinguished from her, are alwayschimeras formed after that which he has, already seen, but of which itis utterly impossible he should ever form any correct idea, either as tothe place they occupy, or their manner of acting--for him there isnot, there can be nothing out of that nature which includes all beings. Instead, therefore, of seeking out of the world he inhabits for beingswho can procure him a happiness denied by Nature, let him study thisnature, learn her laws, contemplate her energies, observe the immutablerules by which she acts. "

Speaking of the theological delusions under which many men labor, and ofthe mode in which man has been surrounded by those delusions, he says:--

"His ignorance made him credulous: his curiosity made him swallow largedraughts of the marvellous: time confirmed him in his opinions, and hepassed his conjectures from race to race, for realities; a tyrannicalpower maintained him in his notions, because by those alone couldsociety be enslaved. It was in vain, that some faint glimmerings ofNature occasionally attempted, the recall of his reason; that slightcorruscations of experience sometimes threw his darkness into light; theinterest of the few was bottomed on his enthusiasm; their pre-eminencedepended on his love of the wonderful; their very existence rested onthe solidity of his ignorance they consequently suffered no opportunityto escape, of smothering even the lambent flame. The many were thusfirst deceived into credulity, then coerced into submission. At length, the whole science of man became a confused mass of darkness, falsehood, and contradictions, with here and there a feeble ray of truth, furnishedby that Nature of which he can never entirely divest himself, because, without his knowledge, his necessities are continually bringing him backto her resources. "

Having stated that by "nature" he means the "great whole, " our authorcomplains of those who assert that matter is senseless, inanimate, unintelligent, etc. , and says, "Experience proves to us that the matterwhich we regard as inert or dead, assumes action, intelligence, andlife, when it is combined in a certain way:"--

"If flour be wetted with water, and the mixture closed up, it will befound, after some little lapse of time, by the aid of a microscope, tohave produced organized beings that enjoy life, of which the water andthe flour were believed incapable: it is thus that inanimate matter canpass into life, or animate matter, which is in itself only an assemblageof motion. Reasoning from analogy, which the philosophers of the presentday hold perfectly compatible, the production of a man, independent ofthe ordinary means, would not be more marvellous than that of an insectwith flour and water. Fermentation and putrefaction evidently produceliving animals. We have here the principle; with proper materials, principles can always be brought into action. That generation which isstyled _equivocal_ is only so for those who do not reflect, or whodo not permit themselves, attentively, to observe the operations ofNature. "

This passage is much ridiculed by Voltaire, who asserts that it isfounded on some experiments made by one Needham, who placed somerye-meal in well-corked bottles, and some boiled mutton gravy in otherbottles, and found that eels were produced in each. We do not knowsufficient of the history of Needham's experiments, either to affirm ordeny their authenticity, but we feel bound to remind our readers ofthe much-decried experiments conducted by Mr. Crosse, and which wereafterwards verified by Mr. Weekes, of Sandwich. In these cases, insectswere produced by the action of a powerful voltaic battery upon asaturated solution of silicate of potash, and upon ferro cyanuretof potassium. The insects were a species of acarus, minute andsemi-transparent, and furnished with long bristles, which could only beseen by the aid of the microscope. The sixth chapter treats of man, andthe author thus answers the question, "What is man?":--

"We say he is a material being, organized after a peculiar manner, conformed to a certain mode of thinking, of feeling, capable ofmodification in certain modes peculiar to himself, to his organization, to that particular combination of matter which is found assembled inhim. If again it be asked, What origin we give to beings of the humanspecies? We reply, that like all other beings, man is a production ofnature, who resembles them in some respects, and finds himself submittedto the same laws; who differs from them in other respects, and followsparticular laws determined by the diversity of his conformation. If thenit be demanded, Whence came man? We answer, our experience on thishead does not capacitate us to resolve the question; but that it cannotinterest us, as it suffices for us to know that man exists, that he isso constituted as to be competent to the effects we witness. "

In the seventh chapter the author, treating of the soul and spiritsays:--

"The doctrine of spirituality, such as it now exists, offers nothingbut vague ideas, or, rather, is the absence of all ideas. What does itpresent to the mind but a substance which possesses nothing of which oursenses enable us to have a knowledge? Can it be truth, that man is ableto figure to himself a being not material, having neither extent norparts; which, nevertheless, acts upon matter without having any pointof contact, any kind of analogy with it; and which itself receives theimpulse of matter by means of material organs, which announce to it thepresence of other beings? Is it possible to conceive the union of thesoul with the body; to comprehend how this material body can bind, enclose, constrain, determine a fugitive being, which escapes all oursenses? Is it honest, is it plain dealing, to solve these difficulties, by saying there is a mystery in them, that they are the effects of apower more inconceivable than the human soul, than its mode of acting, however concealed from our view? When to resolve these problems, man isobliged to have recourse to miracles, to make the Divinity interfere, does he not avow his own ignorance? When notwithstanding the ignorancehe is thus obliged to avow by availing himself of the divine agency, he tells us, this immaterial substance, this soul, shall experience theaction of the element of fire, which he allows to be material; whenhe confidently says, this soul shall be burnt; shall suffer inpurgatory--have we not a right to believe, that either he has a designto deceive us, or else that he does not himself understand that which heis so anxious we shall take upon his word?"

The ninth chapter, after treating of the diversity of the intellectualfaculties, proceeds, "Man at his birth brings with him into the worldnothing but the necessity of conserving himself, of rendering hisexistence happy; instruction, examples, the custom of the world, presenthim with the means, either real or imaginary, of achieving it; habitprocures for him the facility of employing these means:"--

"In order that man may become virtuous, it is absolutely requisite thathe should have an interest, that he should find advantages in practicingvirtue. For this end, it is necessary that education should implant inhim reasonable ideas; that public opinion should lean towards virtue, asthe most desirable good; that example should point it out as the objectmost worthy of esteem; that government should faithfully recompense, should regularly reward it; that honor should always accompany itspractice; that vice should constantly be despised; that crime shouldinvariably be punished. Is virtue in this situation amongst men!Does the education of man infuse into him just, faithful ideas ofhappiness--true notions of virtue---dispositions really favorable to thebeings with whom he is to live? The examples spread before him, arethey suitable to innocence of manners? Are they calculated to make himrespect decency, to cause him to love probity, to practice honesty, to value good faith, to esteem equity, to revere conjugal fidelity, to observe exactitude in fulfilling his duties? Religion, which alonepretends to regulate his manners, does it render him sociable? doesit make him pacific? does it teach him to be humane? The arbiters, thesovereigns of society, are they faithful in recompensing punctual inrewarding, those who have best served their country, in punishingthose who have pillaged, who have robbed, who have plundered, who havedivided, who have ruined it? Justice, does she hold her scales witha firm, with an even hand, between all the citizens of the state? Thelaws, do they never support the strong against the weak, favor the richagainst the poor, uphold the happy against the miserable? In short, isit an uncommon spectacle to behold crime frequently justified, oftenapplauded, sometimes crowned with success, insolently triumphing, arrogantly striding over that merit which it disdains, over that virtuewhich it outrages? Well, then, in societies thus constituted, virtuecan only be heard by a very small number of peaceable citizens, a fewgenerous souls, who know how to estimate its value, who enjoy it insecret. For the others, it is only a disgusting object; they see init nothing but the supposed enemy to their happiness, or the censor oftheir individual conduct. "

In the tenth chapter, which is upon the soul, the author says:--

"The diversity in the temperament of man, is natural, the necessarysource of the diversity of passions, of his taste, of his ideas ofhappiness, of his opinions of every kind. Thus this same diversitywill be the fatal source of his disputes--of his hatreds--of hisinjustice--every time he shall reason upon unknown objects, but to whichhe shall attach the greatest importance. He will never understand eitherhimself or others, in speaking of a spiritual soul, or of immaterialsubstances distinguished from nature; he will, from that moment, ceaseto speak the same language, and he will never attach the same ideas tothe same words. What then shall be the common standard that shall decidewhich is the man that thinks with the greatest justice?

"Propose to a man to change his religion for yours, he will believe youa madman; you will only excite his indignation, elicit his contempt; hewill propose to you, in his turn, to adopt his own peculiar opinions;after much reasoning, you will treat each other as absurd beings, ridiculously opinionated, pertinaciously stubborn; and he will displaythe least folly who shall first yield. But if the adversaries becomeheated in the dispute, which always happens, when they suppose thematter important, or when they would defend the cause of their ownself-love, from thence their passions sharpen, they grow angry, quarrelsare provoked, they hate each other, and end by reciprocal injury. Itis thus that for opinions, which no man can demonstrate, we see theBrachman despised; the Mahomedan hated; the Pagan held in contempt; thatthey oppress and disdain each with the most raucorous animosity: theChristian burns the Jew at what is called an _Auto-da-fe_, because heclings to the faith of his fathers; the Roman Catholic condemns theProtestant to the flames, and makes a conscience of massacreing(sp. ) himin cold blood; this re-acts in his turn; sometimes the various sectsof Christians league together against the incredulous Turk, and fora moment suspend their own bloody disputes that they may chastise theenemies to the true faith: then, having glutted their revenge, returnwith redoubied fury, to wreak over again their infuriated vengeance oneach other. "

The thirteenth chapter argues as follows, against the doctrine of theimmortality of the soul and a future state:--

"In old age, man extinguishes entirely, his fibres become rigid, hisnerves lose their elasticity, his senses are obtunded, his sight growsdim, his ears lose their quickness, his ideas become unconnected, hismemory fails, his imagination cools, --what, then, becomes of his soul. Alas! it sinks down with the body, it gets benumbed as this loses itsfeeling, becomes sluggish as this decays in activity; like it, whenenfeebled by years, it fulfils its functions with pain; this substance, which is deemed spiritual, which is considered immaterial, which it isendeavored to distinguish from matter, undergoes the same revolutions, experiences the same vicissitudes, submits to the name modifications asdoes the body itself. In despite of this proof of the materiality of thesoul, of its identity with the body so convincing to the unprejudiced, some thinkers have supposed that although the latter is perishable, theformer does not perish; that this portion of man enjoys the especialprivilege of immortality; that it is exempt from dissolution; free fromthose changes of form all the beings in nature undergo: in consequenceof this, man is persuaded himself that this privileged soul does notdie. 

"It will be asked, perhaps, by what road has man been conducted to formto himself gratuitous ideas of another world. I reply, that it is atruth man has no idea of a future life; they are the ideas of the pastand the present, that furnish his imagination with the materials ofwhich he constructs the edifice of the regions of futurity. Hobbes says, 'We believe that, that which is will always be, and that the same causeswill have the same effects. ' Man in his actual state has two modesof feeling--one, that he approves; another, that he disapproves: thuspersuaded that these two modes of feeling must accompany him evenbeyond his present existence, he placed in the regions of eternity twodistinguished abodes; one destined to felicity; the other to misery: theone must contain those who obey the calls of superstition, who believein its dogmas; the other is a prison, destined to avenge the causeof heaven on all those who shall not faithfully believe the doctrinespromulgated by the ministers of a vast variety of superstitions. Hassufficient attention been paid to the fact that results as a necessaryconsequence from this reasoning; which on examination will be foundto have rendered the first place entirely useless, seeing, that bythe number and contradiction of these various systems, let man believewhichever he may, let him follow it in the most faithful manner, stillhe must be ranked as an Infidel, as a rebel to the divinity; becausehe cannot believe in all; and those from which he dissents, by aconsequence of their own creed, condemn him to the prison-house?--Suchis the origin of the ideas upon a future life, so diffused amongmankind. Everywhere may be seen an Elysium, and a Tartarus, a Paradiseand a Hell; in a word, two distinguished abodes, constructed accordingto the imagination of the enthusiasts who have invented them; who haveaccommodated them to their own peculiar prejudices, to the hopes, to thefears of the people who believe in them. The Indian figures the first ofthese abodes as one of inaction, of permanent repose, because, being theinhabitant of a hot climate, he has learned to contemplate rest as theextreme of felicity: the Mussulman promises himself corporeal pleasures, similar to those that actually constitute the object of his research inthis life: each figures to himself that on which he has learned to setthe greatest value. "

"As for the miserable abode of souls, the imagination of fanatics, who were desirous of governing the people, strove to assemble the mostfrightful images to render it still more terrible; fire is of all thingsthat which produces in man the most pungent sensation; not findinganything more cruel, the enemies to the several dogmas were to beeverlastingly punished with this torturing element: fire, therefore, wasthe point at which their imagination was obliged to stop; the ministersof the various systems agreed pretty generally, that fire would one dayavenge their offended divinities; thus, they painted the victims to theanger of the gods, or rather those who questioned their own creeds, as confined in fiery dungeons; as perpetually rolling into a vortex ofbituminous flames; as plunged in unfathomable gulfs of liquid sulphur;making the infernal caverns resound with their useless groanings, withtheir unavailing gnashing of teeth. But it will, perhaps, be inquired, how could man reconcile himself to the belief of an existenceaccompanied with eternal torments; above all, as many according to theirown superstitions had reason to fear it for themselves--Many causeshave concurred to make him adopt so revolting an opinion: in the firstplace, very few thinking men have ever believed such an absurdity, when they have deigned to make use of their reason; or, when they haveaccredited it, this notion was always counterbalanced by the idea ofthe goodness, by a reliance on the mercy, which they attributed to theirrespective divinities: in the second place, those who were blinded bytheir fears never rendered to themselves any account of these strangedoctrines which they either received with awe from their legislators, or which were transmitted to them by their fathers; in the third place, each sees the object of his terrors only at a favorable distance;moreover, superstition promises him the means of escaping the tortureshe believes he has merited. "

We conclude by quoting the following eloquent passage:--

"Oh! Nature! sovereign of all beings! and ye, her adorable daughters, Virtue, Reason, and Truth! remain forever our reverend protectors. It isto you that belong the praises of the human race; to you appertains thehomage of the earth. Show us, then, oh! Nature! that which man oughtto do, in order to obtain the happiness which thou makest himdesire. --Virtue! animate him with thy beneficent fire! Reason! conducthis uncertain steps through the paths of life. Truth! let thy torchillumine his intellect, dissipate the darkness of his road. .. . Banisherror from our mind, wickedness from our hearts, confusion from ourfootsteps. Cause knowledge to extend its salubrious reign, goodness tooccupy our souls, serenity to dwell in our bosoms. .. . Let our eyes, so long either dazzled or blindfolded, be at length fixed upon thoseobjects we ought to seek. Dispel forever those mists of ignorance, thosehideous phantoms, together with those seducing chimeras, which onlyserve to lead us astray. Extricate us from that dark abyss into whichwe are plunged by superstition, overthrow the fatal empire of delusion, crumble the throne of falsehood, wrest from their polluted hands thepower they have usurped. "

ROBERT TAYLOR. 

Many of the readers of this number will, from their own memories, bebetter able to do justice to him, whom Henry Hunt named "The Devil'sChaplain, " than we shall in our limited space. Robert Taylor was born atEdmonton, in the county of Middlesex, on the 18th of August, 1784. His family was highly respectable, and his parents were in affluentcircumstances; but, being a younger son in a family of eleven children, it was necessary that Robert Taylor should follow some profession. Hisfather died when he was about seven years old, leaving him under theguardianship of a paternal uncle. When seventeen years of age, he wasapprenticed to a surgeon, at Birmingham, and studied medicine afterwardsunder Sir Astley Cooper and Mr. Clive, passing the College of Surgeonswith considerable _eclat_. When about twenty-three, he became acquaintedwith the Rev. Thomas Cotterell, a clergyman of the Established Church, of high evangelical principles, who induced him to quit physic formetaphysics, and in 1809 Robert Taylor entered Saint John's College, Cambridge, and in 1813 took his degree of Bachelor of Arts. He waspublicly complimented by the Master of the College as a singular honorto the University in his scholarship, and was ordained on the 14th ofMarch, 1813, by the bishop of Chichester; from that time until 1818, Taylor officiated as curate at Midhurst. Here he became acquainted witha person named Ayling who held Deistical opinions, and who inducedTaylor to read various Free-thinking works; this soon resulted in anavowal of Deism on the part of Taylor, who tendered his resignation tohis Bishop. His friends and family were much alarmed, and much pressurewas brought to bear upon him, and we regret to state that it had theeffect of producing a temporary recantation. This, however, broughtTaylor no relief; he found himself in distress, and shunned by hisfamily. Through the kindness of an old friend, he obtained the curacy ofYardley, near Birmingham, but his previous apostacy having reached theears of the Bishop, the necessary license was refused, and the rectorreceived a peremptory notice to dismiss Taylor. This harsh treatmentcaused a reaction, and while the rector sought another curate, Taylorpreached a series of sermons, by means of which he shook the faith ofnearly the whole of his congregation. The following is an abstract ofhis last sermon at Yardley:--

"The text was, 'For as Jonah was three days and three nights in thewhale's belly, so shall the son of man be three days and three nights inthe heart of the earth. '--Matt, xii. , 40. He began, 'Then this gloriousmiracle of the man having been swallowed alive by a fish, and remainingalive for seventy-two hours, undigested and unhurt, in the fish'sbowels, and being vomited up unhurt and safe upon the dry land, was astrue as the gospel; and consequently the gospel was as true, but notmore true, than this sea-sick miracle. He inferred that no person couldhave a right to pretend to believe in the death and resurrection ofChrist, who had the least doubt as to the reality of the deglutition andevomition of the prophet Jonah. As to the natural improbabilities andphysical impossibilities of this very wonderful Bible miracle, thesewere nothing in the way of a true and lively faith. Where miracles ofany sort were concerned, there could be no distinction into the greaterand the less, since infinite power was as necessary to the reality ofthe least as to the greatest. We should never forget that it was theLord who prepared the fish, and prepared him for the express purpose ofswallowing the man, and probably gave him a little opening physic, tocleanse the apartment for the accommodation of its intended tenant; andhad the purpose been, that the whole ship and all the crew should havebeen swallowed as well as he, there's no doubt that they could have beenequally well accommodated. But as to what some wicked Infidels objected, about the swallow of the whale being too narrow to admit the passage ofthe man, it only required a little stretching, and even a herring ora sprat might have gulped him. He enlarged, most copiously, on thecircumstance of the Lord speaking to the fish, in order to cause him tovomit; and insisted on the natural efficacy of the Lord, which wasquite enough to make anybody sick. He pointed out the many interestingexamples of faith and obedience which had been set by the scaly race, who were not only at all times easy to be caught in the gospel net, whenthrown over them by the preaching of the word, but were always ready tosurrender their existence to the Almighty, whenever he pleased to drop'em a line. That as the first preachers of the gospel were fishermen, so the preachers of the gospel, to this day, might truly be said tobe looking after the loaves and fishes, and they who, as the Scripturesays, are 'wise to catch soles, ' speak to them for no other purpose thanthat for which the Lord spake unto the whale--that is, to ascertain howmuch they can swallow. The moral of this pungent persiflage, aimedto admonish the proud and uncharitable believer, who expected hisacceptance with the deity on the score of his credulity, that when hiscredulity was fairly put to trial, it might be found that he was inreality as far from believing what he did not take to be true as themost honest and avowed Infidel. 'Thou then who wouldst put a trickupon infinite wisdom, and preferest the imagined merit of a weakunderstanding to the real utility of an honest heart--thou who wouldst

 'Compound for sins thou art inclined to, By damning those thou hast no mind to;'

hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Thou believest only thatwhich seemeth to thee to be true; what does the Atheist less? And thatwhich appeareth to be a lie thou rejectest; what does the Atheist more?Can we think that God has given us reason only to betray us, and madeus so much superior to the brute creation, only to deal with us so muchworse than they, to punish us for making the best use we could of thefaculties he has given us, and to make the very excellence of our naturethe cause of our damnation?'"

This concluded his connection with the Church of England, and hisbrother having consented to make him an allowance of one pound per weekif he would quit England, he retired to the Isle of Man. After nineweeks his brother ceased to remit; and to support himself, Taylor wrotefor the two newspapers then published in the island, but his articlesattracting attention, he was summoned before the Bishop, and compelledto quit the island under a threat of imprisonment. In deep distress, hewent to Dublin, where he lectured on Deism until 1824, when he came toLondon, and founded the Christian Evidence Society. 

Many of the discourses delivered by him were printed in "The Lion. "which was first published in 1828. In 1827 Mr. Taylor was tried atGuildhall for blasphemy, and was sentenced to imprisonment in Oakhamgaol for one year. In Oakham he wrote "The Diegesis" and "Syntagma. "After his release from prison in 1829, he, together with RichardCarlile, made a tour through England on an Infidel mission, commencingwith a challenge to the Cambridge University. In 1830 and 1831 hedelivered a series of discourses, which are printed together under thetitle of "The Devil's Pulpit. " On the 4th July, 1831, he was againtried for blasphemy and sentenced to two years' imprisonment In 1833he delivered a number of discourses, which were printed in the"Philalethean. " He was the friend and companion of Richard Carlile forseveral years. It is difficult to quote from Robert Taylor's works, unless at the risk of doing him great injustice, and we must thereforerefer our readers to the works we have named. The following is from"The Devil's Pulpit:"--

"The gentlemen who distribute religious tracts, the general body ofdissenting preachers, and almost all persons engaged in the tradeof religion, imagine themselves to have a mighty advantage againstInfidels, upon the strength of that last and reckless argument--thatwhether the Christian religion be true or false, there can be no harm inbelieving; and that belief is, at any rate, the safe side. Now, to saynothing of this old Popish argument, which a sensible man must seeis the very essence of Popery, and would oblige us to believe all theabsurdities and nonsense in the world: inasmuch as if there be no harmin believing, and there be some harm and danger in not believing, themore we believe the better: and all the argument necessary for anyreligion whatever would be, that it should frighten us out of our wits:the more terrible, the more true: and it would be our duty to becomethe converts of that religion whatever it might be, whose priests couldswear the loudest, and damn and curse the fiercest. But I am here tograpple with this Popery in disguise, this wolfish argument in sheepishclothing, upon Scriptural ground, and on Scriptural ground only; takingthe Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, for this argument's sake, to be divine authority. The question proposed is, 'Whether is thebeliever or the unbeliever the more likely to be saved, taking theScriptures to be of divine authority!' And I stand here, on this divineauthority, to prove that the unbeliever is the more likely to be saved:that unbelief, and not belief, is the safe side, and that a man is morelikely to be damned for believing the gospel, and because of his havingbelieved it, than for rejecting and despising it, as I do. .. . But, if apatient hearing be more than good Christians be minded to give us, whenthus advance to meet them on their own ground, their impatience andintolerance itself will supply the evidence and demonstration of thefact, that, after all, they dare not stand to the text of their ownbook, that it is not the Bible that they go by, nor God whom theyregard: but that they want to be God-a'-mighties themselves, and wouldhave us take their words for God's words; you must read it as they readit, and understand it as they understand it: you must 'skip, and go on, 'just where a hard word comes in the way of the sense they choose to putupon it: you must believe what the book contains, what you see with yourown eyes that it does not contain: you must shut your eyes, and not seewhat it does contain; or you'll be none the nearer the mark of theirliking. .. . Taking the authority of Scripture, for this argument's sake, to be decisive, I address the believer who would give himself airs ofsuperiority, would chuckle in an imaginary safety in believing, andpresume to threaten the unbeliever as being in a worse case, or moredangerous plight, than he. 'Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuousself?' when on the showing of thine own book, the safety (if safetythere be) is all on the unbelieving side? When for any one text that canbe produced, seeming to hold out any advantage or safety in believing, we can produce two in which the better hope is held out to theunbeliever? For any one apparent exhortation to believe, we can producetwo forbiddances to believe, and many threaten-ings of God's vengeanceto, and for the crime and folly of, believing. To this proof I proceed, by showing you:--1st. What the denunciations of God's vengeance are:with no comment of mine, but in the words of the text itself. 2d. Thatthese dreadful denunciations are threatened to believers: and that theyare not threatened to unbelievers. And 3d. That all possible advantagesand safety, which believing could confer on any man, are likely, andmore likely to be conferred on the unbeliever than on the believer. Thatthe danger of the believer is so extreme, that no greater danger canpossibly be. 1st. What are the denunciations of God's vengeance! 'Thereare' (says the holy Revelation, xiv. 10, ) 'who shall drink of the wineof the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup ofhis indignation, and shall be tormented with fire and brimstone, and thesmoke of their torment ascendeth up forever and ever: and they have norest day or night. ' There's 'glad tidings of great joy' for you! TheChristian may get, over the terror of this denunciation by the selfishand ungenerous chuckle of his 'Ah! well, these were very wicked people, and must have deserved their doom; it need not alarm us: it doesn'tapply to us. ' But good-hearted men would rather say, 'It does apply. We cannot be indifferent to the misery of our fellow-creatures. Theself-same Heaven that frowns on them, looks lowering upon us. ' And whowere they? and what was their offence? Was it Atheism! was it Deism'was it Infidelity? No! It was for church and chapel-going; it was foradoring, believing, and worshipping. They worshipped the beast: I knownot what beast they worshipped; but I know that if you go into any ofour churches and chapels at this day, you will find them worshipping theLamb; and if worshipping a lamb be not most suspiciously like worshipinga beast, you may keep the color in your cheeks, while mine are blanchedwith fear. The unbeliever only can be absolutely safe from this danger. He only who has no religion at all, is sure not to be of the wrongreligion. He who worships neither God nor Devil, is sure not to mistakeone of those gentlemen for the other. But will it be pretended, thatthese are only metaphors of speech, that the thing said is not thething that's meant? Why, then, they are very ugly metaphors. And what issaying that which you don't mean, and meaning the contrary to what yousay, but lying? And what worse can become of the Infidel, who makes itthe rule of his life 'to hear and speak the plain and simple truth, 'than of the Christian, whose religion itself is a system of metaphorsand allegories, of double meanings, of quirk and quiddities in dreaddefiance of the text that warns him, that 'All liars shall have theirpart in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone?' Rev. Xxi. 8. 

"Is it a parable that a man may merely entertain his imagination withal, and think no more on't, --though not a word be hinted about a parabolicalsignification, and the text stands in the mouth of him who, we are told, was the truth itself? And he it is who brought life and immortality tolight, that hath described in the 16th of Luke, such an immortality asthat of one who was a sincere believer, a son of Abraham, who took theBible for the rule of his life, and was anxious to promote the salvationof his brethren, yet found for himself no Saviour, no salvation; but, 'In Hell he lifted up his eyes being in torment: and saith FatherAbraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tipof his finger in water, and cool my tongue, for I am tormented inthis flame. ' But that request was refused. 'Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, Father, that thou wouldst send him to my father's house; forI have five brethren, that he may testify unto them, lest they also cometo this place of torment. ' But that request was refused. There's 'gladtidings of great joy' for you! That the believer's danger of comingor going into that place of torment is so great, that greater cannotpossibly be: and that his belief will stand him in no stead at all, but make his plight a thousand times worse than if he had not been abeliever; and that unbelief is the safer side--Christ himself beingjudge--I quote no words but his to prove. Is the believer concernedto save his soul, then shall he most assuredly be damned for being soconcerned: for Christ hath said, 'Whosoever will save his soul shalllose it. ' Matthew xvi. 25. Is the believer a complete beggar? If he benot so, if he hath a rag that he doth call his own, he will be damnedto all eternity. For Christ hath said, 'Whosoever he be of you whoforsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple. ' Luke xiv. 33. Is the believer a rich man? and dreams he of going to Heaven? It iseasier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. ' Matthew xix. 24. Is he a man at all, then he cannot be saved, for Christ hath said, 'Thoubelievest that there is one God;' saith St. James, 'Thou dost well, theDevils also believe and tremble. ' 2 James xix. And so much good, andno more, than comes to damned spirits in the flames of Hell, is all thegood that ever did and can come of believing. 'For though thou hadstall faith, so that thou couldst remove mountains, ' saith St. Paul, 'Itshould profit thee nothing. ' 1 Cor. Xiii. 2. Well, then! let the goodChristian try what saving his prayers will do for him: this is the goodthat they'!! do for him; and he hath Christ's own word to comfort himin't, 'He shall receive the greater damnation. ' Luke xx. 47. Well, then, since believing will not save him, since faith will not save him, sinceprayer will not save him, but all so positively make things all theworse, and none the better, there's one other chance for him. Let him goand receive the Sacrament, the most comfortable Sacrament, you know, 'of the body and blood of Christ, ' remembering, as all good communicantsshould, 'that he is not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs thatfall from that table. ' 'Truth, Lord! But the dogs eat of the crumbs thatfall from their master's table!' O what happy dogs! But let those dogsremember, that it is also truth, that 'He that eateth and drinkethunworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself. ' 1 Cor. Xvi. 29. Owhat precious eating and drinking!

 "'My God! and is thy table spread; And doth thy cup with love o'erflow? Thither be all the children led, And let them all thy sweetness know. '

"That table is a snare, that cup is deadly poison that bread shallsend thy soul to Hell. Well, then! try again, believer: perhaps you hadbetter join the Missionary Society, and subscribe to send these gladtidings of these blessed privileges, and this jolly eating and drinking, to the Heathen. Why, then; you have Christ's own assurance, that whenyou shall have made one proselyte, you shall just have done him thekindness of making him twofold more the child of Hell than yourself. Mat. Xxiii. 15. Is the believer liable to the ordinary gusts of passion, and in a passion shall he drop the hasty word, 'thou fool!' for that oneword 'he shall be in danger of Hell fire. ' Mat. V. 22. Nay, Sirs! thisisn't the worst of the believer's danger. Would he but keep his legs andarms together, and spare his own eyes and limbs; he doth by that verymercy to himself damn his eyes and limbs--and hath Christ's assurancethat it would have been profitable for him rather to have plucked outhis eyes, and chopt off his limbs, and so to have wriggled and gropedhis way through the 'Straight gate and the narrow way that leadeth untolife, ' than having two eyes and two arms, or two legs, to be cast intoHell, into the fire that never shall be quenched, where their 'wormdieth not, and the fire is not quenched. ' Mark ix. 43. Well, then! willthe believer say, what were all the miracles and prophecies of boththe Old and the New Testament for those unquestionable miracles, andclearly-accomplished prophecies, if it were not that men should believe?Why, absolutely, they were the very arguments appointed by God himselfto show us that men should not believe, but that damnation should betheir punishment if they did believe. 'To the law and the testimony. '"Sirs! These are the very words:--'Of miracles, saith God's word, 'Theyare the spirits of devils, that work miracles. ' Rev. Xvi. 14. And itis the Devil who 'deceiveih them which dwell on the earth, by means ofthose miracles which he hath power to do. ' Rev. Xiii. 14. So much formiracles. Is it on the score of prophets and of prophecies, then, thatyou will take believing to be the safe side? Then 'thus saith the Lordof Hosts, the God of Israel, the prophets prophesy falsely and thepriests bear rule by their means. ' Jer. V. 31. 'The prophet is a fool:the spiritual man is mad. ' Hosea i. 7. 'Thus saith the Lord of Hosts:hearken not unto the prophets. ' Jer. Xxiii. 15. 'O Israel, thy prophetsare like the foxes of the desert. ' Ezekiel xiii. 4. 'They lie untothee. ' Jerem. Xiv. 14. 'And they shall be tormented day and nightforever and ever. ' Rev. Xx. 10. 'And the punishment of the prophet shallbe even as the punishment of him that seeketh unto him. ' Ezekiel xiv. 10. Nay more, then, it is, when God hath determined to damn men, thathe, in every instance, causeth them to become believers, and to havefaith in divine Revelation, in order that they may be damned. Believers, and none but believers, becoming liable to damnation; believers and nonebut believers, being capable of committing that unpardonable sin againstthe Holy Ghost, which hath never forgiveness, neither in this world norin that which is to come. 'Whereas all other kinds of blasphemy shallbe forgiven unto men, and all sorts of blasphemy wherewith soever theyshall blaspheme. But there is no forgiveness for believers. ' Markiii. 28. For it is written, 'For this cause God shall send them strongdelusion, that they should believe a lie: that they all might bedamned. ' 2 Thessal. Ii. 11. So when it was determined by God that thewicked Ahab should perish, the means to bring him to destruction, bothof body and soul, was to make him become a believer. 

"I offer no comment of my own on words so sacred; but these are thewords: 'Hear thou, therefore, the word of the Lord. I saw the Lordsitting upon his throne, and all the hosts of Heaven standing by him onhis right hand and on his left. And the Lord said, who shall persuadeAhab that he may go up and fall at Ramoth Gilead? and one said on thismanner, and another said on that manner. And there stood forth a spirit, and stood before the Lord, and said: I will persuade him. And theLord said unto him wherewith? And he said, I will go forth, and I willbe a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets. And he said, thou shalt persuade him, and prevail also. Go forth and do so. Now, therefore, behold the Lord hath put a lying spirit in the mouth of allthy prophets. ' 1 kings xxii. 22. There were 400 of 'em; they were 'thegoodly-fellowship of the prophets for you; all of them inspired by thespirit from on high, and all of them lying as fast as they could lie. 'So much for getting on the safe side by believing. Had Ahab been anInfidel, he would have saved his soul alive. As it was, we may addresshim in the words of St. Paul to just such another fool, 'King Ahab, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest: but no betterthan I know, that for that very belief, fell slaughter on thy soul: andwhere thou soughtest to be saved by believing, it was by believingthou wert damned. ' So when Elijah had succeeded in converting the 450worshippers of Baal, who had been safe enough while they were Infidels, and they began crying, 'the Lord He is God, the Lord He is God:' themoment they got into the right faith, they found themselves in thewrong box; and the prophet, by the command of God, put a stop to theirLord-Godding, by cutting their throats for 'em, 'Elijah brought themdown to the brook of Kishon, and slew them there. ' 1 Kings xviii. 40. Oh! what a blessed thing, you see, to be converted to the true faith!Thus all the sins and crimes that have been committed in the world, andall God's judgments upon sin and sinners have been the consequence ofreligion, and faith, and believing. What was the first sin committedin the world? It was believing. Had our great mother Eve not been abelieving credulous fool, she would not have been in the transgression. Who was the first reverend divine that began preaching about God andimmortality? It was the Devil. What was the first lie that was evertold, the very damning and damnable lie? It was the lie told to makefolks believe that they would not be dead when they were dead, that theyshould not surely die, but that they should be as gods, and live in afuture state of existence. 'When God himself hath declared, that thereis no future state of existence: that 'Dust thou art, and unto dustshalt thou return. ' Who is it, then, that prefers believing in the Devilrather than in God, but the believer?--And from whom is the hope of afuture state derived, but from the father of lies--the Devil? But if indefiance of so positive a declaration of Almighty God, men will have itthat there is a future state of existence after death, who are they whoshall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of Heaven, but unbelievers, let them come from the north, from the south, from theeast, or from the west? And who are they that shall be cast out, butbelievers, 'the children of the kingdom?' As St. Peter very charitablycalls them, 'cursed children. ' 2 Peter ii. 14. That is, I suppose, children with beards, children that never grew to sense enough to putaway childish things, but did in gawky manhood, like new-born babes, desire the pure milk and lollipop of the gospel. 'For of such is thekingdom of Heaven. ' And who are they whom Christ will set upon hisright hand, and to whom he will say, 'Come ye blessed of my father!' butunbelievers, who never troubled their minds about religion, and neverdarkened the doors of a gospel shop? But who are they to whom he willsay, 'Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil andhis angels, ' but believers, every one of them believers, chapel-goingfolks, Christ's blood men, and incorrigible bigots, that had beenbothering him all their days with their 'Lord! Lord!' to come off atlast with no better reward of their faith than that he will protest untothem, I never knew ye. 

"One text there is, and only one, against ten thousand of a contrarysignificancy: which, being garbled and torn from its context, seems, for a moment, to give the advantage to the believer; the celebrated 19thchapter of Mark, v. 16:--'He that believeth, and is baptized, shall besaved; but he that believeth not, shall be damned. ' But little will thisserve the deceitful hope of the Christian, for it is immediately added. And these signs shall follow them that believe; in my name shall theycast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take upserpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them;they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. ' Can theChristian show these signs, or any of them? Will he dare to take-up aserpent, or drink prussic acid? If he hesitate, he is not a believer, and his profession of belief is a falsehood. Let belief confer whatprivilege it may, he hath no part nor lot in the matter; the threatwhich he denounces against Infidels hangs over himself, and he hath nosign of salvation to show. Believing the gospel, then, (or rather, I should say, professing to believe it, for I need not tell you thatthere's a great deal more professing to believe, than believing, )instead of making a man the more likely to be saved, doubles his dangerof damnation, inasmuch as Christ hath said, that 'the last state of thatman shall be worse than the first. ' Luke xi. 26. And his holy apostlePeter addeth, 'It would have been better for them not to have known theway (2 Peter ii. 21) of righteousness. ' The sin of believing makes allother sins that a man can commit so much the more heinous and offensivein the sight of God, inasmuch as they are sins against light andknowledge: and 'the servant who knew his Lord's will, and did it not, heshall be beaten with many stripes. ' Luke xii. 47. While unbelief is notonly innocent in itself, but so highly pleasing to Almighty God, that itis represented as the cause of his forgiveness of things which otherwisewould not be forgiven. Thus St. Paul, who had been a blasphemer, apersecutor, and injurious, assures us that it was for this cause heobtained mercy, 'because he did it ignorantly in unbelief. ' 1 Tim. I. 13. Had he been a believer, he would as surely have been damned as hisname was Paul. And 'tis the gist of his whole argument, and the expresswords of the 11th of the Epistle to the Romans, that 'God included themall in unbelief, that he might have mercy upon all. ' Unbelief being theessential qualification and recommendation to God's mercy: not withoutgood reason was it that the pious father of the boy that had the devilin him, when he had need of Christ's mercy, and knew that unbeliefwould be the best title to it, cried out and said with tears, 'Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!' Mark ix. 24. While the Apostlesthemselves, who were most immediately near and dear to Christ, no morebelieved the Gospel than I do; and for all they have said and preachedabout it, they never believed it themselves, as Christ told 'em thatthey hadn't so much faith as a grain of mustard seed. And the evangelistJohn bears them record, to their immortal honor; that 'though Christ haddone so many miracles among them, yet believed they not. ' John xii. 37. And the same divine authority assures us that 'neither did his brethrenbelieve in him. ' John vii. 5. Which then is 'the safe side. ' Sirs, onthe showing of the record itself? On the unbelieving side, the Infidelstands in the glorious company of the Apostles, in the immediate familyof Christ, and hath no fear; while the believer doth as well and nobetter than the devils in hell, who believe and tremble. "

"I. "

JOSEPH BARKER. 

In any work, purporting to be a true record of Freethinkers, the name ofJoseph Barker cannot be omitted. We find in him, from the commencementof his public life till the present time, an ardent desire for, anda determination to achieve, freedom of thought and ex-pression on allsubjects appertaining to theology, politics, and sociology. Possessinga vigorous intellect, a constitution naturally strong, great oratoricalability, and an unrivalled command oi the Saxon language, he has madehimself a power among each party with whom the transitory state of hismind has brought him in contact. It is seldom we find men with equalboldness, when once connected with Wesleyan Methodism, rising superiorin thought to its narrow, selfish, dogmatic, unnatural, and humiliatingviews, and claiming for human nature a more dignified and exaltedposition; gradually advancing to Unitarianism; ultimately to land safelyon the shore of Materialism. Joseph Barker has passed, amid persecutionand privation, through these different phases of theology, to arrive at"Infidelity, " to be, he states, a better, wiser, and happier man. In hisautobiography, we read that he was born in Bramley, an old country townin the West Riding of Yorkshire, in 1806, the _day_ of his birth beingforgotten. His parents, and his ancestors, so far as is known of them, were of humble means. His grandfather was addicted to drinking freelyof those beverages which meet with so much opposition from Mr. Barkerhimself. His aunt also was unfortunate, having married a man who wasa minister, a drunkard, and a cock-fighter. His parents appear to havebeen uneducated and pious; belonging to the old school of Methodists, those who look on this life merely as a state of trial and probation;always looking forward to enjoy their mansion in the skies--the housenot made with hands eternal in the heavens, thinking nothing

 . .. . Worth a thought beneath, But how _they_ may escape the death That never, never dies. 

Although living _in_ this world, they were not _of it_. It was to them, all vanity and vexation of spirit. They attended their chapel, theirlove feasts, their class-meetings, their prayer meetings, and theirrevival meetings, where they would lament over the wickedness anddepravity of human nature, where they would "speak their experience, "tell of their temptations, pray for the conversion of the world, andsing their hymns, such as the following, which was a favorite with Mr. Barker's family:--

 "Refining fire, go through my heart, Illuminate my soul; Scatter my life through every part, And sanctify the whole. "

Such being the character of Mr. Barker's parents, it is no wonder that_he_ was "brought up" under the same influence, with the same falsenotions of life, of humanity, and of the world; and we cannot prizetoo highly the man who had the industry to investigate, the ability todiscern, and the courage to expose the falsity of such doctrines and thedisastrous effects of such teaching. 

In the extracts we shall give from Mr. Barker's works will be found thatsimplicity of style and force of argument peculiar to himself. The firstextract we take shows the falsity of the orthodox doctrine of the totaldepravity of human nature:--

"On looking back on the earlier periods of my life, I first seeproofs that the orthodox doctrine of original sin, or of natural totaldepravity, is a falsehood. I was _not_ born totally depraved. I neverrecollect the time, since I began to think and feel at all, when I hadnot good thoughts, and good feelings. I never recollect the time sinceI began to think and feel at all, when I had not many good thoughts, andstrong inclinations to goodness. So far was my heart from being utterlydepraved or hardened, that I sympathised, even in my childhood, with thehumblest of God's creatures, and was filled to overflowing with sorrowat the sight of distress. I recollect one Sunday, while I was searchingabout for something in one of the windows upstairs, I found a butterflythat had been starved to death, as I supposed. When I laid hold of it, it crumbled to pieces. My feelings were such at the thought of thepoor butterfly's sufferings, that I wept. And for all that day I couldscarcely open my lips to say a word to any one without bursting intotears. .. . And I recollect well what a struggle I had when I first told alie. A school in the neighborhood had a feast, ours had not, so I playedthe truant, after a serious struggle, to have an opportunity of seeingthe scholars walk. I had a miserable afternoon; for I felt that I wasdoing wrong, and I was afraid lest my mother should find me out. Mysister found me out and told my mother, but my mother was loth tobelieve her till she had asked me myself. When I went home my motherasked me if I had been to school, and I said yes, and my mother, as shehad never found me out in a lie before, believed me. But I was sadlydistressed afterwards when I thought of what I had done. That liecaused me days of remorse, and my sufferings were all the severer inconsequence of my mother having so readily believed what I said. "

The unhappy and unnatural effects of theology on the minds of earnest, truth-seeking men--the total prostration of manly dignity, theperversion of the mental faculties, and the debasement of human nature, is truly stated by Mr. Barker in the following extract:--

"I also recollect being very much troubled with dreadful andindescribably awful dreams, and for several months during certain partsof the year I was accustomed to rise during my sleep, and walk about thehouse in a state of sleep for hours together. I say in a state of sleep:but I cannot exactly describe the state in which I was. It was not_perfect_ sleep, and yet I was not properly awake. My eyes were open, and I saw, as far as I can remember, the things around me, and 1 couldhear what was said to me. But neither what I saw nor what I heard seemedto have power to penetrate far enough into my soul to awake me properly. During those occasions, I was frequently very unhappy, dreadfullyunhappy, most horribly miserable. Sometimes I fancied I had been doingsomething wrong, and my fancied offence seemed horrible beyond allexpression, and alarmed and overwhelmed me with unutterable terrors anddistress. On one occasion I fancied that both I and my father hadboth been doing something wrong, and this seemed most horrible anddistressing of all; and as I wandered about in my mysterious state, Ihowled most piteously, and cried and wept as if my heart would break. Inever recollect being roused from that dismal state while I was walkingabout the house, except twice. Once when I struck my shins violentlyagainst a large earthenware bowl and hurt myself sadly; and another waswhen I was attempting to go up the chimney: I put my foot upon fireand burnt myself, and that awoke me. I suffered in this way for severalyears. After I went to bed at night I soon fell asleep, and sleptperhaps an hour or nearly two. I would then begin to cry, or moan, or howl, and at times to sing. One night I sang a whole hymn of eightverses through; the hymn in Wesley's Hymn Book, beginning

 With glorious clouds encompassed round Whom angels dimly see, Will the unsearchable be found Or God appear to me?'"

Few persons who have not attended the "class-meetings" of the WesleyanMethodists can form an adequate idea of the stereotyped phrases andabsurd sayings indulged in by those who "speak their experience, "etc. , at those meetings. Certain sentences are learned, and utteredindiscriminately, without reference to time, place, or other conditions. Mr. Barker, after speaking of the recklessness of speech thus indulgedin, says:--

"In many cases this false way of speaking is the result of merethoughtlessness perhaps, or of ignorance, joined with the notion that itis their duty to pray, or to say something in public. The parties haveno _intention_ to deceive: but being called on to speak, or invited topray, they begin, and catch hold of such words as they can find, whetherright or wrong, whether true or false. And their words are oftenerfoolish or false, than wise or true. Their talk is at times most foolishand ridiculous. I will give an example or two. It is customary forpeople, when praying for preachers, to say, 'Lord, bless thy servantswhen they stand up to declare thy word: be thou _mouth matter, andwisdom_ to them. ' This has some meaning in it when offered in referenceto a preacher, especially a preacher about to preach. In other casesit would be most foolish and ridiculous. Yet I once heard a person in aprayer-meeting at Chester use this same form of expression in behalfof the sick and the dying. 'O Lord, ' said he, 'bless the sick and theafflicted, and those that are in the article of death;--be thou mouth, matter, and wisdom to them. ' At another prayer-meeting at Chester, on a_Friday_ evening, one of the leaders gave out the following lines:--

 'Another six days' work is done; Another _Sabbath_ is begun. ' etc. 

I once heard a woman say in class, 'I do thank God that he ever gave mea desire to see that _death_ that never, never _dies. _'"

Soon after Mr. Barker became "religious" and attended hisclass-meetings, he awaited the usual "call" to preach the gospel. Accordingly, having received the "call, " he became a Methodist preacher, belonging to the Old Connexion, the New Connexion, and then advancing toUnitarianism, ultimately arriving at the climax of Freethought, inwhich cause he is now so distinguished an advocate. While a Methodistpreacher, he was induced by a neighbor, an Atheist, to read Carlile's"Republican. " We can readily understand why Christians are taught notto read "Infidel" works. The effect the "Republican" produced on Mr. Barker's mind would be augmented, did those Christians investigate whatthey so often ignorantly denounce. In reference to the "Republican, "Mr. Barker says:--

"I was very much struck in reading some portions of the work[Carlile's], and agitated and shaken by its arguments on some points. The object of many of its articles was to prove Christianity irrationaland false. The principal doctrines which it assailed were such as thetrinity--the common notion about the fall of man, and its effects uponthe human race--the Calvinistic notions of eternal, universal, andabsolute predestination, unconditional election and reprobation--theCalvinistic notion of God's sovereignty or partiality--the utterdepravity of every human being born into the world, and yet theobligation of those utterly depraved beings to steer clear of all evil, and to do all that is right and good, on pain of eternal damnation. Thedoctrine of satisfaction to justice, was also assailed, and the doctrineof the immortality of the human soul, and the notion that because it isimmaterial, it must, as a consequence, be immortal. .. . The consequencewas, that my mind was thrown into a state of doubt and suspense. Icannot say that I doubted the truth of the Christian religion exactly, but still I doubted the truth of certain doctrines which I had beentaught to regard as parts of that religion. I can briefly describe thedoubts I had. I neither saw clearly that those doctrines to which heobjected were no part of the Christian religion, nor could I see any wayby which these doctrines could be defended and proved to be rational andtrue. One thing began to seem almost certain, either that Christianitywas not true, or that those doctrines as generally laid down, wereno parts of the Christian religion. This led to investigation. I waswishful to ascertain whether those doctrines which were assailed asirrational, were parts of Christianity or not. I began to converse onthe subject with one of my religious companions, and I began to read onthe subject as I had opportunity. My companion was rather troubled andalarmed at the doubts I expressed with respect to the correctness ofsome of the common doctrines of what was considered orthodoxy; still, what I had said had some influence on his mind, for he told me shortlyafter, that he wished he had never heard my doubts, for what I had saidhad spoiled some of his best sermons; he would never be able to preachthem with comfort more. .. . During my residence in that [Newcastle]circuit, my views on many subjects became anti-Methodistical to a verygreat extent indeed. I now no longer held the prevailing views withrespect to the nature of justifying faith, the witness of the Spirit, regeneration, sanctification, and the like. In reading Wesley's works, I was astonished at the great number of unmeaning and inconsistentpassages which I met with. In many of his views I perfectly agreed withhim? but with a vast amount of what he said on other subjects, I couldnot help but disagree. .. . About this time, finding that there was littlelikelihood that I should be tolerated in the New Connexion unless Icould allow my mind to be enslaved, and feeling that I should be obligedsooner or later to break loose from Methodistical restraint, and speakand act with freedom, I thought of visiting Mr. Turner, the Unitarianminister of Newcastle, and seeking an interview with him. I hadheard something to the effect that Unitarians were great lovers offreedom--that they did not bind their ministers and members by any humancreeds, but left them at liberty to investigate the whole system ofChristianity thoroughly, and to judge as to what were its doctrinesand duties for themselves, and to preach what they believe to be truewithout restraint and persecution, and I thought if this was the case, they must be a very happy people. But from other things which I hadheard respecting them, I was led to regard them with somethingof horror--to look, on them as persons who trifled with Scriptureauthority, as persons who had rushed from the extremes of falseorthodoxy into the extremes of Infidelity. I was in consequenceprevented from visiting Mr. Turner, and I remained in comparativeignorance of the Unitarian body, in ignorance both of their principlesand of their character, still shut up in the dungeons of orthodoxslavery. "

"The dungeons of orthodox slavery" did not long contain Mr. Barker; forhe afterwards became better acquainted with the Unitarians, and formedone of their most energetic preachers. But Unitarianism, appearing tohim at first true in its doctrine and free in its advocacy, shortlybecame insufficient for the cravings of his mind; and, at length, hefound himself outside all the churches. The Bible, which at one periodof his life seemed to him a perfect revelation from "God" now appearedonly the production of erring and half-informed men; and having athorough knowledge of its contents, he resolved to employ the remainderof his life in confuting the false notions of its "divine authority. "America presenting a congenial residence, he resolved to visit thatcountry and purchase some land, upon which he might occupy his leisurefrom lecturing and writing. Having settled in the country, he consideredsomething should be said on the Bible. Accordingly, in November, 1852, a Bible Convention was held at Salem, Ohio, Mr. Barker being appointedPresident, he extract the following from his speech, as illustrating theuncertainty of the Bible translations, the character of the translators, and the nature of the manuscripts from which the translations aremade:--

"We say, that the Bible bears on its very face the marks of humanimperfection and error. This is true of every Bible in existence. We will begin with the Bible in common use, and what do we find! Thetitle-page tells us it is a _translation_ from the original tongues, bythe special command of one of the kings of England. Does any one pretendthat the translators were infallible--men above the possibility oferror? Nothing of the kind. Even those who contend that the original_writers_ of the Bible were infallible, do not pretend that the king'stranslators were so. The sects and priesthoods themselves show that theyregard the common translation as imperfect. They all take the libertyto alter it. They alter it in thousands and tens of thousands of places. Nothing is more common than for theological disputants to appeal fromthe common translation of the Bible to what they call the original Greekand Hebrew. Every commentator takes the same liberty. The leaders of thesects and priesthoods of the day have testified their belief thatthe Bibles in common use are imperfect and erroneous by making _new_translations. There is scarcely an English sect or priesthood ofany note in existence that has not produced a new translation of theScriptures. John Wesley translated both the Old and New Testament. Histranslation of the New Testament continues to be used in the Methodistbody to this day. Adam Clarke, in his 'Commentary, ' translates afreshalmost every important passage in the book. Many passages he translatesin such a way as to give them meanings quite contrary to the meaninggiven them in the common Bible. Richard Watson, a Methodistpreacher, commenced a new translation of the Bible. Dr. Boothroyd, aCongregationalist minister of England, published another translation. Dr. Conquest, a layman of the same denomination, published another, inwhich he says he made twenty thousand emendations, or improvements. He must, therefore, have thought the common Bible had twenty thousandimperfections or errors. Mr. Belsham, and other English Unitarians, published a new translation of the New Testament. Mr. Wellbeloved, aUnitarian minister, published a new translation of a great part ofthe Old testament, intending to publish a new translation of the wholeBible. Even ministers of the Established Church have spoken stronglyagainst the common translation, and some of them have gone so far asto _publish_ new translations _of portions_ of the Bible. AlexanderCampbell, the founder of the denomination which bears his name, haspublished a new translation of the New Testament. A Mr. Taylor publisheda new translation of the New Testament from Griesbach's Greek NewTestament. A Mr. Sharp published another translation from Griesbach'sGreek text. The Baptists have published a new translation of the Bible, I am told. .. . We are not alone, therefore, in believing that the Biblesin common use bear marks of human imperfection and error. The leadingmen in all the religious sects and priesthoods of Great Britain andAmerica believe the same. We add, if the translators of the Bible hadbeen the best and wisest men that ever lived, their work would not havebeen perfect. A translation from Greek and Hebrew cannot be perfect. Butthe translators employed by King James were not the best or wisest menthat ever lived. They were, in some respects, exceedingly ignorant, prejudiced, and immoral. .. . They were liars and false-swearers. These dignitaries of the Church of England knew, as well as you know, that kings and queens are often vicious, profligate, and godless. Theyknew that among the kings and queens of England there had been some ofthe most loathsome lumps of filthiness--some of the most adulterousand lecherous sensualists--some of the most heartless and crueltyrants--some of the most inhuman and bloody wretches that ever cursedthe earth. They knew, too, that English kings and queens generally wereunder strong temptations to be thus cruel and profligate, and thatit was too much to expect any of them to be strictly religious andvirtuous. Yet they bound themselves on oath to call their kingsand queens, whatever their characters might be, most gracious andreligious. ' They _did_ call the monarch then living, 'most gracious andreligious, ' and they handed it down as a duty to their successors togive the same high titles to all their future monarchs, though theyshould be as filthy as that unwieldy, waddling mass of lust androttenness, King Henry the Eighth, or at false and treacherous as theperjured Charles the First. These translators of the Bible also knewthat many who were brought to them to be buried were godless, wicked men. They knew that some of them were drunkards, adulterers, false-swearers. Yet they bound themselves to call them all, as theylowered them into their graves, their 'beloved brethren, ' and to declarethat they committed them to the dust 'in sure and curtain hope of aresurrection to eternal life, ' though they believed in their hearts thatthey would rise to eternal damnation. .. . They were the hirelings of theking and government. They regarded the king as the head of the church, and were sworn to obey him in all things. They were sworn to obey him intranslating the Bible. The king gave them the rules by which they wereto be guided in the work of translation, and they were sworn to followthese rules. These rules were intended to prevent them from puttinganything into their translation of the Bible that was at variance withthe established priesthoods, and to keep them from leaving out anythingthat was favorable to the Established Church and government. And they_kept_ to their rules, and they were influenced by their interests, their situation, and their prejudices. It would be foolish to thinkotherwise. To make the Bible agree with their creed, they put into theirtranslation things which were not in the Greek or Hebrew Bibles, andmistranslated vast multitudes of things which were in the Greek andHebrew Bibles. I will give you an instance or two. Their creed taughtthat God once died, or laid down his life. There was nothing in theGreek or Hebrew Bibles to uphold this doctrine, so in translating theBible they so altered a passage as to make it to teach the doctrine. You may find the passage in 1 John, iii. 16. It is as follows:--'Herebyperceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us. ' Nowthe word 'God' is not in the Greek; it was put into the passage by thetranslators. In one place in the Old Testament it is said that Elhananslew Goliath the Gittite. The translators have altered the passage so asto make it say that it was the _brother_ of Goliath that Elhanan slew. See 2 Samuel xxi. 19. .. . Before a man can give a perfect translation ofthe Bible, he must have a perfect knowledge of both the Greek and HebrewBible, and of the language into which he would translate it. But no manhas that knowledge. The Greek and Hebrew languages, from which the Biblehas to be translated, are dead languages--languages which are no longerspoken or written by any people--languages which exist only in ancientwritings. The meaning of many of the words of those languages is, inconsequence, lost. The writings of the Old Testament are the only booksremaining in the Hebrew language. There are no Hebrew books to throwlight on dark passages, or to settle the meaning of doubtful words andphrases. True, we have Greek and Hebrew dictionaries and grammars, butthese dictionaries and grammars are the work of imperfect and erringmen, who had no other means oi understanding the meaning of the Greekand Hebrew languages than ourselves. These dictionaries and grammarsdiffer from each other. None of them are perfect. The best abound witherrors. We have better means of obtaining a knowledge of the Greeklanguage than of the Hebrew--but the Greek of the New Testament is apeculiar dialect, not to be found in any other book. It is, therefore, as difficult to translate the New Testament as the Old. If, herefore, wewould find a Bible that does _not_ bear the marks of human imperfectionand error, we must look for it in what are called the original Greek andHebrew. But there is no such Bible. The Greek and Hebrew Bibles areas really imperfect as the English translations. The Greek and HebrewBibles are as really the work of imperfect and erring men as the Englishtranslations are. Many people imagine that there is only _one_ Greek andHebrew Bible, and that that one was written by Moses and the prophets, and by the evangelists and the apostles. But this is not the case. There are _several_ Greek and Hebrew Bibles, and all of them are thecompilations of fallible men. We have several Hebrew Old Testaments, and quite a number of Greek New Testaments, all compiled by differentpersons, but drawn, to some extent, from different sources. It shouldbe understood, that the oldest Greek and Hebrew Bibles are not printedbooks, but written ones. They were written before the art of printingwas known among Jews or Christians. Those written or manuscript Biblesare more numerous than the Greek and Hebrew printed Bibles. They are thework of different men, in different countries, and different ages. Andno two of them are alike. They differ from each other almost endlessly. Some contain more, some less. Some have passages in one form, othershave them in other forms. John Mills compared a number of thosemanuscripts of the New Testament, and found that they differed from eachother in thirty thousand places. He marked and collated thirty thousandvarious readings. Other men have compared the Greek manuscripts of theNew Testament, and discovered upwards of a hundred thousand variousreadings--a hundred thousand places or particulars in which they differfrom each other. A similar diversity of readings is to be found in theHebrew manuscripts of the Old Testaments. Now it is from these imperfectand discordant manuscripts that men have to make their Greek and HebrewBibles. They have nothing else from which to make them. And those Greekand Hebrew Bible makers have no means of knowing which of the variousand contradictory manuscripts are the best. .. . You must understandthat the original writings from which the manuscripts now in existenceoriginated, have perished many ages ago. It is probable that the last ofthem perished more than sixteen hundred years ago. We have, therefore, no opportunity of comparing existing manuscripts with the originalwritings, in order to and out which are the true, the original readings. The discordant and contradictory manuscripts, therefore, can never becorrected. .. . It is not only of the common English Bible, therefore, that the words of the resolution are true, but of every Bible known, whether printed or written, whether in Greek and Hebrew, or in modernlanguages. "

Since Mr. Baker has resided in America, he has visited England, andlectured for the Secular and Freethought Societies in England andScotland; the total number of lectures he delivered during his visitamounted to 153, besides engaging in several debates, the principal onebeing with the Rey. Brewin Grant, at Halifax, during ten nights, on the"Divine Authority of the Bible, " which is now published. The viewsnow held by Mr. Barker on "God" and Secularism may be seen from thefollowing extract of a letter addressed to the Editor of the Reasoner, written by Mr. Barker from America, on February 22, 1853:--

"I confess I know nothing of God, but as he is revealed in his works. With me, the word God stands for the unseen cause of all naturalphenomena. I attribute to God no quality but what seems necessary toaccount for what I see in nature. My Jewish and Christian notions ofGod are all gone, except so far as they appear to be the utterances ofnature. .. . As to Secularism, I think our business is with the seen, theworldly, the physical, the secular. Our whole duty seems to me to betruly and fully to unfold ourselves, and truly and fully to unfoldothers: to secure the greatest possible perfection of being andcondition, and the largest possible share of life and enjoyment to allmankind in this present world. The machinery of sects and priesthoodsfor saving souls and fitting men for heaven, I regard as wasteful andinjurious folly, except so far as it may tend to better men and improvetheir condition here. I have a hope of future life, but whatever is bestfor this life must be best for another life; whatever is best for thepresent, must be best for the eternal future. To reveal to men the lawsof their own being, and to unfold to them the laws of nature generally, and to bring them into harmony with those laws, is, therefore, withme, the whole business of man. If there be another world, as 1 hope, itwill, I suppose, be governed by the same laws as this. If men live onfor ever, they will have all the better start in a future life, forhaving got well on in this. As an _art_, therefore, I believe inSecularism. "

J. W. 

_Note by the American Publisher_. --Soon after Mr. Barker's return fromEngland, he resumed his lecturing in various towns and cities in theUnited States, giving great satisfaction, by his able addresses, tolarge and intelligent audiences. He still labors occasionally in thesame pursuit, though at present he is residing on his farm at OmahaCity, in the Territory of Nebraska. Much might be said in praise of hisefforts to promote Liberalism in this country; but his greatest triumph, as we consider it, was his public debate with the Rev. Dr. Berg ofPhiladelphia. This took place on the 9th of January, 1854, and continuedno less than _eight evenings_. The question was on "the origin, authority, and tendency of the Bible"--Dr. Berg affirming, and Mr. Barker opposing. This famous discussion was attended by thousands, andwas probably the greatest affair of the kind that ever occurred. Thespeeches on both sides were published, making a large pamphlet of 190pages. Of course, each of the debaters was victorious, in the opinion ofhis friends; but the trick played by the Christian party, in the closingscene, showed a determination on their part to claim the victory whetheror no! For, as soon as Dr. Berg (who made the last speech) had finished, one of his friends took the platform, and, while the audience wereseparating, read some resolutions in favor of the Doctor and the Bible. "Less than one fourth of the audience, " says the Philadelphia Register, "voted for them. The more serious part of the audience did not vote atall. The great majority seemed to take the thing as a farce. The resultof the vote made a good many long faces on the stage and front seats. Ashort silence ensued, followed by a burst of obstreporous laughter, and cries of '_the Infidels have it!_' And so ended the most remarkabledebate ever held in America. "

The following correct and candid report of the above discussion, appeared at the time in the columns of the Pennsylvania Freeman:--

The Bible Discussion. --The discussion on the authority of the Bible, atConcert Hall, between Rev. J. F. Berg, of this city and Joseph Barker, of Ohio, closed on Thursday evening last, after a continuance of eightevenings. During the whole time, the vast hall was crowded with aneager multitude--numbering from 2000 to 2500 persons--each paying anadmittance of 12 1-2 cents every evening, and on some evenings it issaid that hundreds went away, unable to approach the door; nor did theinterest appear to flag among the hearers to the last. 

Of the merits of the question or the argument, it does not come withinthe scope of a strictly anti-slavery paper to speak, but we cannotforbear to notice the contrast in the manner and bearing of the twodebaters, and the two parties among the audience. Mr. Barker uniformlybore himself as a gentleman, courteously and respectfully towards hisopponent, and with the dignity becoming his position, and the solemnityand importance of the question. We regret that we cannot say the same ofDr. Berg, who at times seemed to forget the obligations of the gentlemanin his zeal as a controversialist. He is an able and skillful debater, though less logical than Mr. Barker, but he wasted his time andstrength too often on personalities and irrelevant matters. His personalinuendoes and epithets, his coarse witticisms, and a bearing that seemedto us more arrogant than Christian, may have suited the vulgar andthe intolerant among his party, but we believe these things won him norespect from the calm and thinking portion of the audience, while weknow that they grieved and offended some intelligent and candid men whothoroughly agreed with his views. It is surely time that all Christiansand clergymen had learned that men whom they regard as heretics andInfidels have not forfeited their claims to the respect and courtesiesof social life, by their errors of opinion, and that insolence andarrogance, contemptuous sneers and impeachment of motives andcharacter, toward such men, are not effective means of grace for theirenlightenment and conversion. 

Among the audience, there was a large number of men, who also lost theirself-control in their dislike to Mr. Barker's views, and he was ofteninterrupted, and sometimes checked in his argument, by hisses, groans, sneers, vulgar cries, and clamor, though through all these annoyancesand repeated provocations, he maintained his wonted composure of mannerand clearness of thought. On the other hand, Dr. Berg was heard withgeneral quiet by his opponents, and greeted with clamorous applause byhis friends, who seemed to constitute a large majority of the audience, and to feel that the triumph of their cause, like the capture of Jerichoof old, depended upon the amount of noise made. 

Mr. Barker, in giving an account of the origin of the discussion, says:--

"In December, [1853] in compliance with a request from the SundayInstitute, I began a course of lectures in Philadelphia, on the origin, authority and influence of the Scriptures. The object of the lectureswas to show that the Bible is of _human_ origin, that its teachings arenot of divine authority, and that the doctrine that the Bible is God'sword is injurious in its tendency. 

"When I sent the Sunday Institute a programme of my lectures, Iauthorised the Secretary to announce, through the papers, that I waswilling to meet any clergyman, of good standing in any of the leadingchurches, in public discussion on the Bible question. "

[The Rev. Mr. McCalla, a Presbyterian clergyman, accepted the offer, and arrangements were made for a six nights debate; but, on the fifthevening, after trying to raise a mob, he withdrew from the contest. ]

"The clergy, or a portion of the clergy, of Philadelphia, unwilling toleave their cause in this plight, demanded that I should discuss thequestion with Dr. Berg, a minister in whom they had fuller confidence. Being assured that Dr. Berg was a gentleman and a scholar, and that hewas the ablest debater the clergy of Philadelphia could boast, I agreedto meet him, and the discussion was fixed for the 9th, 10th, 12th, 13th, 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th of January. ". .. . 

"Though the Doctor did not prove himself so much of a gentleman as Ihad been encouraged to expect, I was sorry he declined to continue thediscussion four nights longer, as we had not got more than half throughthe question when the eighth night closed. I wished for an opportunityof laying the whole subject before the public. Perhaps some otherclergyman will take the matter in hand--one disposed and able to discussthe subject thoroughly. "