we ought not to imagine, even supposing him corporeal, that he is clothed

with a human body, as the ANTHROPOMORPHITES asserted, under colour that

that figure was the most perfect of any; so, neither ought we to imagine

that the spirit of God has human ideas, or bears any resemblance to our

spirit, under colour that we know nothing more perfect than a human mind.

We ought rather to believe, that as he comprehends the perfections of

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

created spirits without being spirit, in the manner we conceive spirit:

That his true name is, He that is; or, in other words, Being without

restriction, All Being, the Being infinite and universal."

After so great an authority, DEMEA, replied PHILO, as that which you have

produced, and a thousand more which you might produce, it would appear

ridiculous in me to add my sentiment, or express my approbation of your

doctrine. But surely, where reasonable men treat these subjects, the

question can never be concerning the Being, but only the Nature, of the

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

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

universe (whatever it be) we call God; and piously ascribe to him every

species of perfection. Whoever scruples this fundamental truth, deserves

every punishment which can be inflicted among philosophers, to wit, the

greatest ridicule, contempt, and disapprobation. But as all perfection is

entirely relative, we ought never to imagine that we comprehend the

attributes of this divine Being, or to suppose that his perfections have

any analogy or likeness to the perfections of a human creature. Wisdom,

Thought, Design, Knowledge; these we justly ascribe to him; because these

words are honourable among men, and we have no other language or other

conceptions by which we can express our adoration of him. But let us

beware, lest we think that our ideas anywise correspond to his

perfections, or that his attributes have any resemblance to these

qualities among men. He is infinitely superior to our limited view and

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

disputation in the schools.

In reality, CLEANTHES, continued he, there is no need of having recourse

to that affected scepticism so displeasing to you, in order to come at

this determination. Our ideas reach no further than our experience. We

have no experience of divine attributes and operations. I need not

conclude my syllogism. You can draw the inference yourself. And it is a

pleasure to me (and I hope to you too) that just reasoning and sound

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

adorably mysterious and incomprehensible nature of the Supreme Being.

Not to lose any time in circumlocutions, said CLEANTHES, addressing

himself to DEMEA, much less in replying to the pious declamations of

PHILO; I shall briefly explain how I conceive this matter. Look round the

world: contemplate the whole and every part of it: You will find it to be

nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite number of

lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond

what human senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various

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

with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever

contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to ends, throughout all

nature, resembles exactly, though it much exceeds, the productions of

human contrivance; of human designs, thought, wisdom, and intelligence.

Since, therefore, the effects resemble each other, we are led to infer,

by all the rules of analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the

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

of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which

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

alone, do we prove at once the existence of a Deity, and his similarity

to human mind and intelligence.

I shall be so free, CLEANTHES, said DEMEA, as to tell you, that from the

beginning, I could not approve of your conclusion concerning the

similarity of the Deity to men; still less can I approve of the mediums

by which you endeavour to establish it. What! No demonstration of the

Being of God! No abstract arguments! No proofs a priori! Are these, which

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

sophism? Can we reach no further in this subject than experience and

probability? I will not say that this is betraying the cause of a Deity:

But surely, by this affected candour, you give advantages to Atheists,

which they never could obtain by the mere dint of argument and reasoning.

What I chiefly scruple in this subject, said PHILO, is not so much that

all religious arguments are by CLEANTHES reduced to experience, as that

they appear not to be even the most certain and irrefragable of that

inferior kind. That a stone will fall, that fire will burn, that the

earth has solidity, we have observed a thousand and a thousand times; and

when any new instance of this nature is presented, we draw without

hesitation the accustomed inference. The exact similarity of the cases

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

is never desired nor sought after. But wherever you depart, in the least,

from the similarity of the cases, you diminish proportionably the

evidence; and may at last bring it to a very weak analogy, which is

confessedly liable to error and uncertainty. After having experienced the

circulation of the blood in human creatures, we make no doubt that it

takes place in TITIUS and MAEVIUS. But from its circulation in frogs and

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

it takes place in men and other animals. The analogical reasoning is much

weaker, when we infer the circulation of the sap in vegetables from our

experience that the blood circulates in animals; and those, who hastily

followed that imperfect analogy, are found, by more accurate experiments,

to have been mistaken.

If we see a house, CLEANTHES, we conclude, with the greatest certainty,

that it had an architect or builder; because this is precisely that

species of effect which we have experienced to proceed from that species

of cause. But surely you will not affirm, that the universe bears such a

resemblance to a house, that we can with the same certainty infer a

similar cause, or that the analogy is here entire and perfect. The

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

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

that pretension will be received in the world, I leave you to consider.

It would surely be very ill received, replied CLEANTHES; and I should be

deservedly blamed and detested, did I allow, that the proofs of a Deity

amounted to no more than a guess or conjecture. But is the whole

adjustment of means to ends in a house and in the universe so slight a

resemblance? The economy of final causes? The order, proportion, and

arrangement of every part? Steps of a stair are plainly contrived, that

human legs may use them in mounting; and this inference is certain and

infallible. Human legs are also contrived for walking and mounting; and

this inference, I allow, is not altogether so certain, because of the

dissimilarity which you remark; but does it, therefore, deserve the name

only of presumption or conjecture?

Good God! cried DEMEA, interrupting him, where are we? Zealous defenders

of religion allow, that the proofs of a Deity fall short of perfect

evidence! And you, PHILO, on whose assistance I depended in proving the

adorable mysteriousness of the Divine Nature, do you assent to all these

extravagant opinions of CLEANTHES? For what other name can I give them?

or, why spare my censure, when such principles are advanced, supported by

such an authority, before so young a man as PAMPHILUS?

You seem not to apprehend, replied PHILO, that I argue with CLEANTHES in

his own way; and, by showing him the dangerous consequences of his

tenets, hope at last to reduce him to our opinion. But what sticks most

with you, I observe, is the representation which CLEANTHES has made of

the argument a posteriori; and finding that that argument is likely to

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

can scarcely believe it to be set in its true light. Now, however much I

may dissent, in other respects, from the dangerous principles of

CLEANTHES, I must allow that he has fairly represented that argument; and

I shall endeavour so to state the matter to you, that you will entertain

no further scruples with regard to it.

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

would be altogether incapable, merely from his own ideas, to determine

what kind of scene the universe must be, or to give the preference to one

state or situation of things above another. For as nothing which he

clearly conceives could be esteemed impossible or implying a contradiction,

every chimera of his fancy would be upon an equal footing; nor could he

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

the others which are equally possible.

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

is, it would be impossible for him at first to assign the cause of any

one event, much less of the whole of things, or of the universe. He might

set his fancy a rambling; and she might bring him in an infinite variety

of reports and representations. These would all be possible; but being

all equally possible, he would never of himself give a satisfactory

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

point out to him the true cause of any phenomenon.

Now, according to this method of reasoning, DEMEA, it follows, (and is,

indeed, tacitly allowed by CLEANTHES himself,) that order, arrangement,

or the adjustment of final causes, is not of itself any proof of design;

but only so far as it has been experienced to proceed from that

principle. For aught we can know a priori, matter may contain the source

or spring of order originally within itself, as well as mind does; and

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

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

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

mind, from a like internal unknown cause, fall into that arrangement. The

equal possibility of both these suppositions is allowed. But, by

experience, we find, (according to CLEANTHES), that there is a difference

between them. Throw several pieces of steel together, without shape or

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

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

ideas in a human mind, we see, by an unknown, inexplicable economy,

arrange themselves so as to form the plan of a watch or house.

Experience, therefore, proves, that there is an original principle of

order in mind, not in matter. From similar effects we infer similar

causes. The adjustment of means to ends is alike in the universe, as in a

machine of human contrivance. The causes, therefore, must be resembling.

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

which is asserted, between the Deity and human creatures; and must

conceive it to imply such a degradation of the Supreme Being as no sound

Theist could endure. With your assistance, therefore, DEMEA, I shall

endeavour to defend what you justly call the adorable mysteriousness of

the Divine Nature, and shall refute this reasoning of CLEANTHES, provided

he allows that I have made a fair representation of it.

When CLEANTHES had assented, PHILO, after a short pause, proceeded in the

following manner.

That all inferences, CLEANTHES, concerning fact, are founded on

experience; and that all experimental reasonings are founded on the

supposition that similar causes prove similar effects, and similar

effects similar causes; I shall not at present much dispute with you. But

observe, I entreat you, with what extreme caution all just reasoners

proceed in the transferring of experiments to similar cases. Unless the

cases be exactly similar, they repose no perfect confidence in applying

their past observation to any particular phenomenon. Every alteration of

circumstances occasions a doubt concerning the event; and it requires new

experiments to prove certainly, that the new circumstances are of no

moment or importance. A change in bulk, situation, arrangement, age,

disposition of the air, or surrounding bodies; any of these particulars

may be attended with the most unexpected consequences: And unless the

objects be quite familiar to us, it is the highest temerity to expect

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

which before fell under our observation. The slow and deliberate steps of

philosophers here, if any where, are distinguished from the precipitate

march of the vulgar, who, hurried on by the smallest similitude, are

incapable of all discernment or consideration.

But can you think, CLEANTHES, that your usual phlegm and philosophy have

been preserved in so wide a step as you have taken, when you compared to

the universe houses, ships, furniture, machines, and, from their

similarity in some circumstances, inferred a similarity in their causes?

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

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

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

others, which fall under daily observation. It is an active cause, by

which some particular parts of nature, we find, produce alterations on

other parts. But can a conclusion, with any propriety, be transferred

from parts to the whole? Does not the great disproportion bar all

comparison and inference? From observing the growth of a hair, can we

learn any thing concerning the generation of a man? Would the manner of a

leaf’s blowing, even though perfectly known, afford us any instruction

concerning the vegetation of a tree?

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

upon another, for the foundation of our judgement concerning the origin

of the whole, (which never can be admitted,) yet why select so minute, so

weak, so bounded a principle, as the reason and design of animals is

found to be upon this planet? What peculiar privilege has this little

agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we must thus make it

the model of the whole universe? Our partiality in our own favour does

indeed present it on all occasions; but sound philosophy ought carefully

to guard against so natural an illusion.

So far from admitting, continued PHILO, that the operations of a part can

afford us any just conclusion concerning the origin of the whole, I will

not allow any one part to form a rule for another part, if the latter be

very remote from the former. Is there any reasonable ground to conclude,

that the inhabitants of other planets possess thought, intelligence,

reason, or any thing similar to these faculties in men? When nature has

so extremely diversified her manner of operation in this small globe, can

we imagine that she incessantly copies herself throughout so immense a

universe? And if thought, as we may well suppose, be confined merely to

this narrow corner, and has even there so limited a sphere of action,

with what propriety can we assign it for the original cause of all

things? The narrow views of a peasant, who makes his domestic economy the

rule for the government of kingdoms, is in comparison a pardonable

sophism.

But were we ever so much assured, that a thought and reason, resembling

the human, were to be found throughout the whole universe, and were its

activity elsewhere vastly greater and more commanding than it appears in

this globe; yet I cannot see, why the operations of a world constituted,

arranged, adjusted, can with any propriety be extended to a world which

is in its embryo state, and is advancing towards that constitution and

arrangement. By observation, we know somewhat of the economy, action, and

nourishment of a finished animal; but we must transfer with great caution

that observation to the growth of a foetus in the womb, and still more to

the formation of an animalcule in the loins of its male parent. Nature,

we find, even from our limited experience, possesses an infinite number

of springs and principles, which incessantly discover themselves on every

change of her position and situation. And what new and unknown principles

would actuate her in so new and unknown a situation as that of the

formation of a universe, we cannot, without the utmost temerity, pretend

to determine.

A very small part of this great system, during a very short time, is very

imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence pronounce decisively

concerning the origin of the whole?

Admirable conclusion! Stone, wood, brick, iron, brass, have not, at this

time, in this minute globe of earth, an order or arrangement without

human art and contrivance; therefore the universe could not originally

attain its order and arrangement, without something similar to human art.

But is a part of nature a rule for another part very wide of the former?

Is it a rule for the whole? Is a very small part a rule for the universe?

Is nature in one situation, a certain rule for nature in another

situation vastly different from the former?

And can you blame me, CLEANTHES, if I here imitate the prudent reserve of

SIMONIDES, who, according to the noted story, being asked by HIERO,

What God was? desired a day to think of it, and then two days more; and

after that manner continually prolonged the term, without ever bringing

in his definition or description? Could you even blame me, if I had

answered at first, that I did not know, and was sensible that this

subject lay vastly beyond the reach of my faculties? You might cry out

sceptic and railler, as much as you pleased: but having found, in so many

other subjects much more familiar, the imperfections and even

contradictions of human reason, I never should expect any success from

its feeble conjectures, in a subject so sublime, and so remote from the

sphere of our observation. When two species of objects have always been

observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the existence

of one wherever I see the existence of the other; and this I call an

argument from experience. But how this argument can have place, where the

objects, as in the present case, are single, individual, without

parallel, or specific resemblance, may be difficult to explain. And will

any man tell me with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must

arise from some thought and art like the human, because we have

experience of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite that we

had experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient, surely,

that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and contrivance...

PHILO was proceeding in this vehement manner, somewhat between jest and

earnest, as it appeared to me, when he observed some signs of impatience

in CLEANTHES, and then immediately stopped short. What I had to suggest,

said CLEANTHES, is only that you would not abuse terms, or make use of

popular expressions to subvert philosophical reasonings. You know, that

the vulgar often distinguish reason from experience, even where the

question relates only to matter of fact and existence; though it is

found, where that reason is properly analysed, that it is nothing but a

species of experience. To prove by experience the origin of the universe

from mind, is not more contrary to common speech, than to prove the

motion of the earth from the same principle. And a caviller might raise

all the same objections to the Copernican system, which you have urged

against my reasonings. Have you other earths, might he say, which you

have seen to move? Have...

Yes! cried PHILO, interrupting him, we have other earths. Is not the moon

another earth, which we see to turn round its centre? Is not Venus

another earth, where we observe the same phenomenon? Are not the

revolutions of the sun also a confirmation, from analogy, of the same

theory? All the planets, are they not earths, which revolve about the

sun? Are not the satellites moons, which move round Jupiter and Saturn,

and along with these primary planets round the sun? These analogies and

resemblances, with others which I have not mentioned, are the sole proofs

of the COPERNICAN system; and to you it belongs to consider, whether you

have any analogies of the same kind to support your theory.

In reality, CLEANTHES, continued he, the modern system of astronomy is

now so much received by all inquirers, and has become so essential a part

even of our earliest education, that we are not commonly very scrupulous

in examining the reasons upon which it is founded. It is now become a

matter of mere curiosity to study the first writers on that subject, who

had the full force of prejudice to encounter, and were obliged to turn

their arguments on every side in order to render them popular and

convincing. But if we peruse GALILEO’s famous Dialogues concerning the

system of the world, we shall find, that that great genius, one of the

sublimest that ever existed, first bent all his endeavours to prove, that

there was no foundation for the distinction commonly made between

elementary and celestial substances. The schools, proceeding from the

illusions of sense, had carried this distinction very far; and had

established the latter substances to be ingenerable, incorruptible,

unalterable, impassable; and had assigned all the opposite qualities to

the former. But GALILEO, beginning with the moon, proved its similarity

in every particular to the earth; its convex figure, its natural darkness

when not illuminated, its density, its distinction into solid and liquid,

the variations of its phases, the mutual illuminations of the earth and

moon, their mutual eclipses, the inequalities of the lunar surface, &c.

After many instances of this kind, with regard to all the planets, men

plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of experience; and

that the similarity of their nature enabled us to extend the same

arguments and phenomena from one to the other.

In this cautious proceeding of the astronomers, you may read your own

condemnation, CLEANTHES; or rather may see, that the subject in which you

are engaged exceeds all human reason and inquiry. Can you pretend to show

any such similarity between the fabric of a house, and the generation of

a universe? Have you ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles

the first arrangement of the elements? Have worlds ever been formed under

your eye; and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress of the

phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its final consummation?

If you have, then cite your experience, and deliver your theory.

How the most absurd argument, replied CLEANTHES, in the hands of a man of

ingenuity and invention, may acquire an air of probability! Are you not

aware, PHILO, that it became necessary for Copernicus and his first

disciples to prove the similarity of the terrestrial and celestial

matter; because several philosophers, blinded by old systems, and

supported by some sensible appearances, had denied this similarity? but

that it is by no means necessary, that Theists should prove the

similarity of the works of Nature to those of Art; because this

similarity is self-evident and undeniable? The same matter, a like form;

what more is requisite to show an analogy between their causes, and to

ascertain the origin of all things from a divine purpose and intention?

Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no better than the abstruse

cavils of those philosophers who denied motion; and ought to be refuted

in the same manner, by illustrations, examples, and instances, rather

than by serious argument and philosophy.

Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were heard in the clouds,

much louder and more melodious than any which human art could ever reach:

Suppose, that this voice were extended in the same instant over all

nations, and spoke to each nation in its own language and dialect:

Suppose, that the words delivered not only contain a just sense and

meaning, but convey some instruction altogether worthy of a benevolent

Being, superior to mankind: Could you possibly hesitate a moment

concerning the cause of this voice? and must you not instantly ascribe it

to some design or purpose? Yet I cannot see but all the same objections

(if they merit that appellation) which lie against the system of Theism,

may also be produced against this inference.

Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were founded on

experience: that when we hear an articulate voice in the dark, and thence

infer a man, it is only the resemblance of the effects which leads us to

conclude that there is a like resemblance in the cause: but that this

extraordinary voice, by its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all

languages, bears so little analogy to any human voice, that we have no

reason to suppose any analogy in their causes: and consequently, that a

rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, you know not whence, from some

accidental whistling of the winds, not from any divine reason or

intelligence? You see clearly your own objections in these cavils, and I

hope too you see clearly, that they cannot possibly have more force in

the one case than in the other.

But to bring the case still nearer the present one of the universe, I

shall make two suppositions, which imply not any absurdity or

impossibility. Suppose that there is a natural, universal, invariable

language, common to every individual of human race; and that books are

natural productions, which perpetuate themselves in the same manner with

animals and vegetables, by descent and propagation. Several expressions

of our passions contain a universal language: all brute animals have a

natural speech, which, however limited, is very intelligible to their own

species. And as there are infinitely fewer parts and less contrivance in

the finest composition of eloquence, than in the coarsest organised body,

the propagation of an Iliad or Aeneid is an easier supposition than that

of any plant or animal.

Suppose, therefore, that you enter into your library, thus peopled by

natural volumes, containing the most refined reason and most exquisite

beauty; could you possibly open one of them, and doubt, that its original

cause bore the strongest analogy to mind and intelligence? When it

reasons and discourses; when it expostulates, argues, and enforces its

views and topics; when it applies sometimes to the pure intellect,

sometimes to the affections; when it collects, disposes, and adorns every

consideration suited to the subject; could you persist in asserting, that

all this, at the bottom, had really no meaning; and that the first

formation of this volume in the loins of its original parent proceeded

not from thought and design? Your obstinacy, I know, reaches not that

degree of firmness: even your sceptical play and wantonness would be

abashed at so glaring an absurdity.

But if there be any difference, PHILO, between this supposed case and the

real one of the universe, it is all to the advantage of the latter. The

anatomy of an animal affords many stronger instances of design than the

perusal of LIVY or TACITUS; and any objection which you start in the

former case, by carrying me back to so unusual and extraordinary a scene

as the first formation of worlds, the same objection has place on the

supposition of our vegetating library. Choose, then, your party, PHILO,

without ambiguity or evasion; assert either that a rational volume is no

proof of a rational cause, or admit of a similar cause to all the works

of nature.

Let me here observe too, continued CLEANTHES, that this religious

argument, instead of being weakened by that scepticism so much affected

by you, rather acquires force from it, and becomes more firm and

undisputed. To exclude all argument or reasoning of every kind, is either

affectation or madness. The declared profession of every reasonable

sceptic is only to reject abstruse, remote, and refined arguments; to

adhere to common sense and the plain instincts of nature; and to assent,

wherever any reasons strike him with so full a force that he cannot,

without the greatest violence, prevent it. Now the arguments for Natural

Religion are plainly of this kind; and nothing but the most perverse,

obstinate metaphysics can reject them. Consider, anatomise the eye;

survey its structure and contrivance; and tell me, from your own feeling,

if the idea of a contriver does not immediately flow in upon you with a

force like that of sensation. The most obvious conclusion, surely, is in

favour of design; and it requires time, reflection, and study, to summon

up those frivolous, though abstruse objections, which can support

Infidelity. Who can behold the male and female of each species, the

correspondence of their parts and instincts, their passions, and whole

course of life before and after generation, but must be sensible, that

the propagation of the species is intended by Nature? Millions and

millions of such instances present themselves through every part of the

universe; and no language can convey a more intelligible irresistible

meaning, than the curious adjustment of final causes. To what degree,

therefore, of blind dogmatism must one have attained, to reject such

natural and such convincing arguments?

Some beauties in writing we may meet with, which seem contrary to rules,

and which gain the affections, and animate the imagination, in opposition

to all the precepts of criticism, and to the authority of the established

masters of art. And if the argument for Theism be, as you pretend,

contradictory to the principles of logic; its universal, its irresistible

influence proves clearly, that there may be arguments of a like irregular

nature. Whatever cavils may be urged, an orderly world, as well as a

coherent, articulate speech, will still be received as an incontestable

proof of design and intention.

It sometimes happens, I own, that the religious arguments have not their

due influence on an ignorant savage and barbarian; not because they are

obscure and difficult, but because he never asks himself any question

with regard to them. Whence arises the curious structure of an animal?

From the copulation of its parents. And these whence? From their parents?

A few removes set the objects at such a distance, that to him they are

lost in darkness and confusion; nor is he actuated by any curiosity to

trace them further. But this is neither dogmatism nor scepticism, but

stupidity: a state of mind very different from your sifting, inquisitive

disposition, my ingenious friend. You can trace causes from effects: You

can compare the most distant and remote objects: and your greatest errors

proceed not from barrenness of thought and invention, but from too

luxuriant a fertility, which suppresses your natural good sense, by a

profusion of unnecessary scruples and objections.

Here I could observe, HERMIPPUS, that PHILO was a little embarrassed and

confounded: But while he hesitated in delivering an answer, luckily for

him, DEMEA broke in upon the discourse, and saved his countenance.

Your instance, CLEANTHES, said he, drawn from books and language, being

familiar, has, I confess, so much more force on that account: but is

there not some danger too in this very circumstance; and may it not

render us presumptuous, by making us imagine we comprehend the Deity, and

have some adequate idea of his nature and attributes? When I read a

volume, I enter into the mind and intention of the author: I become him,

in a manner, for the instant; and have an immediate feeling and

conception of those ideas which revolved in his imagination while

employed in that composition. But so near an approach we never surely can

make to the Deity. His ways are not our ways. His attributes are perfect,

but incomprehensible. And this volume of nature contains a great and

inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible discourse or reasoning.

The ancient PLATONISTS, you know, were the most religious and devout of

all the Pagan philosophers; yet many of them, particularly PLOTINUS,

expressly declare, that intellect or understanding is not to be ascribed

to the Deity; and that our most perfect worship of him consists, not in

acts of veneration, reverence, gratitude, or love; but in a certain

mysterious self-annihilation, or total extinction of all our faculties.

These ideas are, perhaps, too far stretched; but still it must be

acknowledged, that, by representing the Deity as so intelligible and

comprehensible, and so similar to a human mind, we are guilty of the

grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves the model of the

whole universe.

All the sentiments of the human mind, gratitude, resentment, love,

friendship, approbation, blame, pity, emulation, envy, have a plain

reference to the state and situation of man, and are calculated for

preserving the existence and promoting the activity of such a being in

such circumstances. It seems, therefore, unreasonable to transfer such

sentiments to a supreme existence, or to suppose him actuated by them;

and the phenomena besides of the universe will not support us in such a

theory. All our ideas, derived from the senses, are confessedly false and

illusive; and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a supreme

intelligence: And as the ideas of internal sentiment, added to those of

the external senses, compose the whole furniture of human understanding,

we may conclude, that none of the materials of thought are in any respect

similar in the human and in the divine intelligence. Now, as to the

manner of thinking; how can we make any comparison between them, or

suppose them any wise resembling? Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain,

fleeting, successive, and compounded; and were we to remove these

circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it would in such

a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of thought or reason.

At least if it appear more pious and respectful (as it really is) still

to retain these terms, when we mention the Supreme Being, we ought to

acknowledge, that their meaning, in that case, is totally

incomprehensible; and that the infirmities of our nature do not permit us

to reach any ideas which in the least correspond to the ineffable

sublimity of the Divine attributes.

It seems strange to me, said CLEANTHES, that you, DEMEA, who are so

sincere in the cause of religion, should still maintain the mysterious,

incomprehensible nature of the Deity, and should insist so strenuously

that he has no manner of likeness or resemblance to human creatures. The

Deity, I can readily allow, possesses many powers and attributes of which

we can have no comprehension: But if our ideas, so far as they go, be not

just, and adequate, and correspondent to his real nature, I know not what

there is in this subject worth insisting on. Is the name, without any

meaning, of such mighty importance? Or how do you mystics, who maintain

the absolute incomprehensibility of the Deity, differ from Sceptics or

Atheists, who assert, that the first cause of all is unknown and

unintelligible? Their temerity must be very great, if, after rejecting

the production by a mind, I mean a mind resembling the human, (for I know

of no other,) they pretend to assign, with certainty, any other specific

intelligible cause: And their conscience must be very scrupulous indeed,

if they refuse to call the universal unknown cause a God or Deity; and to

bestow on him as many sublime eulogies and unmeaning epithets as you

shall please to require of them.

Who could imagine, replied DEMEA, that CLEANTHES, the calm philosophical

CLEANTHES, would attempt to refute his antagonists by affixing a nickname

to them; and, like the common bigots and inquisitors of the age, have

recourse to invective and declamation, instead of reasoning? Or does he

not perceive, that these topics are easily retorted, and that

Anthropomorphite is an appellation as invidious, and implies as dangerous

consequences, as the epithet of Mystic, with which he has honoured us? In

reality, CLEANTHES, consider what it is you assert when you represent the

Deity as similar to a human mind and understanding. What is the soul of

man? A composition of various faculties, passions, sentiments, ideas;

united, indeed, into one self or person, but still distinct from each

other. When it reasons, the ideas, which are the parts of its discourse,

arrange themselves in a certain form or order; which is not preserved

entire for a moment, but immediately gives place to another arrangement.

New opinions, new passions, new affections, new feelings arise, which

continually diversify the mental scene, and produce in it the greatest

variety and most rapid succession imaginable. How is this compatible with

that perfect immutability and simplicity which all true Theists ascribe

to the Deity? By the same act, say they, he sees past, present, and

future: His love and hatred, his mercy and justice, are one individual

operation: He is entire in every point of space; and complete in every

instant of duration. No succession, no change, no acquisition, no

diminution. What he is implies not in it any shadow of distinction or

diversity. And what he is this moment he ever has been, and ever will be,

without any new judgement, sentiment, or operation. He stands fixed in

one simple, perfect state: nor can you ever say, with any propriety, that

this act of his is different from that other; or that this judgement or

idea has been lately formed, and will give place, by succession, to any

different judgement or idea.

I can readily allow, said CLEANTHES, that those who maintain the perfect

simplicity of the Supreme Being, to the extent in which you have

explained it, are complete Mystics, and chargeable with all the

consequences which I have drawn from their opinion. They are, in a word,

Atheists, without knowing it. For though it be allowed, that the Deity

possesses attributes of which we have no comprehension, yet ought we

never to ascribe to him any attributes which are absolutely incompatible

with that intelligent nature essential to him. A mind, whose acts and

sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive; one, that is wholly

simple, and totally immutable, is a mind which has no thought, no reason,

no will, no sentiment, no love, no hatred; or, in a word, is no mind at

all. It is an abuse of terms to give it that appellation; and we may as

well speak of limited extension without figure, or of number without

composition.

Pray consider, said PHILO, whom you are at present inveighing against.

You are honouring with the appellation of Atheist all the sound, orthodox

divines, almost, who have treated of this subject; and you will at last

be, yourself, found, according to your reckoning, the only sound Theist

in the world. But if idolaters be Atheists, as, I think, may justly be

asserted, and Christian Theologians the same, what becomes of the

argument, so much celebrated, derived from the universal consent of

mankind?

But because I know you are not much swayed by names and authorities, I

shall endeavour to show you, a little more distinctly, the inconveniences

of that Anthropomorphism, which you have embraced; and shall prove, that

there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the

Divine mind, consisting of distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the

same manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house which

he intends to execute.

It is not easy, I own, to see what is gained by this supposition, whether

we judge of the matter by Reason or by Experience. We are still obliged

to mount higher, in order to find the cause of this cause, which you had

assigned as satisfactory and conclusive.

If Reason (I mean abstract reason, derived from inquiries a priori) be

not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning cause and effect,

this sentence at least it will venture to pronounce, That a mental world,

or universe of ideas, requires a cause as much, as does a material world,

or universe of objects; and, if similar in its arrangement, must require

a similar cause. For what is there in this subject, which should occasion

a different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are

entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition, which is

not common to both of them.

Again, when we will needs force Experience to pronounce some sentence,

even on these subjects which lie beyond her sphere, neither can she

perceive any material difference in this particular, between these two

kinds of worlds; but finds them to be governed by similar principles, and

to depend upon an equal variety of causes in their operations. We have

specimens in miniature of both of them. Our own mind resembles the one; a

vegetable or animal body the other. Let experience, therefore, judge from

these samples. Nothing seems more delicate, with regard to its causes,

than thought; and as these causes never operate in two persons after the

same manner, so we never find two persons who think exactly alike. Nor

indeed does the same person think exactly alike at any two different

periods of time. A difference of age, of the disposition of his body, of

weather, of food, of company, of books, of passions; any of these

particulars, or others more minute, are sufficient to alter the curious

machinery of thought, and communicate to it very different movements and

operations. As far as we can judge, vegetables and animal bodies are not

more delicate in their motions, nor depend upon a greater variety or more

curious adjustment of springs and principles.

How, therefore, shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the cause of that

Being whom you suppose the Author of Nature, or, according to your system

of Anthropomorphism, the ideal world, into which you trace the material?

Have we not the same reason to trace that ideal world into another ideal

world, or new intelligent principle? But if we stop, and go no further;

why go so far? why not stop at the material world? How can we satisfy

ourselves without going on in infinitum? And, after all, what

satisfaction is there in that infinite progression? Let us remember the

story of the Indian philosopher and his elephant. It was never more

applicable than to the present subject. If the material world rests upon

a similar ideal world, this ideal world must rest upon some other; and so

on, without end. It were better, therefore, never to look beyond the

present material world. By supposing it to contain the principle of its

order within itself, we really assert it to be God; and the sooner we

arrive at that Divine Being, so much the better. When you go one step

beyond the mundane system, you only excite an inquisitive humour which it

is impossible ever to satisfy.

To say, that the different ideas which compose the reason of the Supreme

Being, fall into order of themselves, and by their own nature, is really

to talk without any precise meaning. If it has a meaning, I would fain

know, why it is not as good sense to say, that the parts of the material

world fall into order of themselves and by their own nature. Can the one

opinion be intelligible, while the other is not so?

We have, indeed, experience of ideas which fall into order of themselves,

and without any known cause. But, I am sure, we have a much larger

experience of matter which does the same; as, in all instances of

generation and vegetation, where the accurate analysis of the cause

exceeds all human comprehension. We have also experience of particular

systems of thought and of matter which have no order; of the first in

madness, of the second in corruption. Why, then, should we think, that

order is more essential to one than the other? And if it requires a cause

in both, what do we gain by your system, in tracing the universe of

objects into a similar universe of ideas? The first step which we make

leads us on for ever. It were, therefore, wise in us to limit all our

inquiries to the present world, without looking further. No satisfaction

can ever be attained by these speculations, which so far exceed the

narrow bounds of human understanding.

It was usual with the PERIPATETICS, you know, CLEANTHES, when the cause

of any phenomenon was demanded, to have recourse to their faculties or

occult qualities; and to say, for instance, that bread nourished by its

nutritive faculty, and senna purged by its purgative. But it has been

discovered, that this subterfuge was nothing but the disguise of

ignorance; and that these philosophers, though less ingenuous, really

said the same thing with the sceptics or the vulgar, who fairly confessed

that they knew not the cause of these phenomena. In like manner, when it

is asked, what cause produces order in the ideas of the Supreme Being;

can any other reason be assigned by you, Anthropomorphites, than that it

is a rational faculty, and that such is the nature of the Deity? But why

a similar answer will not be equally satisfactory in accounting for the

order of the world, without having recourse to any such intelligent

creator as you insist on, may be difficult to determine. It is only to

say, that such is the nature of material objects, and that they are all

originally possessed of a faculty of order and proportion. These are only

more learned and elaborate ways of confessing our ignorance; nor has the

one hypothesis any real advantage above the other, except in its greater

conformity to vulgar prejudices.

You have displayed this argument with great emphasis, replied CLEANTHES:

You seem not sensible how easy it is to answer it. Even in common life,

if I assign a cause for any event, is it any objection, PHILO, that I

cannot assign the cause of that cause, and answer every new question

which may incessantly be started? And what philosophers could possibly

submit to so rigid a rule? philosophers, who confess ultimate causes to

be totally unknown; and are sensible, that the most refined principles

into which they trace the phenomena, are still to them as inexplicable as

these phenomena themselves are to the vulgar. The order and arrangement

of nature, the curious adjustment of final causes, the plain use and

intention of every part and organ; all these bespeak in the clearest

language an intelligent cause or author. The heavens and the earth join

in the same testimony: The whole chorus of Nature raises one hymn to the

praises of its Creator. You alone, or almost alone, disturb this general

harmony. You start abstruse doubts, cavils, and objections: You ask me,

what is the cause of this cause? I know not; I care not; that concerns

not me. I have found a Deity; and here I stop my inquiry. Let those go

further, who are wiser or more enterprising.

I pretend to be neither, replied PHILO: And for that very reason, I

should never perhaps have attempted to go so far; especially when I am

sensible, that I must at last be contented to sit down with the same

answer, which, without further trouble, might have satisfied me from the

beginning. If I am still to remain in utter ignorance of causes, and can

absolutely give an explication of nothing, I shall never esteem it any

advantage to shove off for a moment a difficulty, which, you acknowledge,

must immediately, in its full force, recur upon me. Naturalists indeed

very justly explain particular effects by more general causes, though

these general causes themselves should remain in the end totally

inexplicable; but they never surely thought it satisfactory to explain a

particular effect by a particular cause, which was no more to be

accounted for than the effect itself. An ideal system, arranged of

itself, without a precedent design, is not a whit more explicable than a

material one, which attains its order in a like manner; nor is there any

more difficulty in the latter supposition than in the former.

But to show you still more inconveniences, continued PHILO, in your

Anthropomorphism, please to take a new survey of your principles. Like

effects prove like causes. This is the experimental argument; and this,

you say too, is the sole theological argument. Now, it is certain, that

the liker the effects are which are seen, and the liker the causes which

are inferred, the stronger is the argument. Every departure on either

side diminishes the probability, and renders the experiment less

conclusive. You cannot doubt of the principle; neither ought you to

reject its consequences.

All the new discoveries in astronomy, which prove the immense grandeur

and magnificence of the works of Nature, are so many additional arguments

for a Deity, according to the true system of Theism; but, according to

your hypothesis of experimental Theism, they become so many objections,

by removing the effect still further from all resemblance to the effects

of human art and contrivance. For, if LUCRETIUS[Lib. II. 1094], even

following the old system of the world, could exclaim,

If TULLY [De. nat. Deor. Lib. I] esteemed this reasoning so natural,

as to put it into the mouth of his EPICUREAN:

"Quibus enim oculis animi intueri potuit vester Plato fabricam illam

tanti operis, qua construi a Deo atque aedificari mundum facit? quae

molitio? quae ferramenta? qui vectes? quae machinae? qui ministri tanti

muneris fuerunt? quemadmodum autem obedire et parere voluntati architecti

aer, ignis, aqua, terra potuerunt?"

If this argument, I say, had any force in former ages, how much greater

must it have at present, when the bounds of Nature are so infinitely

enlarged, and such a magnificent scene is opened to us? It is still more

unreasonable to form our idea of so unlimited a cause from our experience

of the narrow productions of human design and invention.

The discoveries by microscopes, as they open a new universe in miniature,

are still objections, according to you, arguments, according to me. The

further we push our researches of this kind, we are still led to infer

the universal cause of all to be vastly different from mankind, or from

any object of human experience and observation.

And what say you to the discoveries in anatomy, chemistry, botany?...

These surely are no objections, replied CLEANTHES; they only discover new

instances of art and contrivance. It is still the image of mind reflected

on us from innumerable objects. Add, a mind like the human, said PHILO. I

know of no other, replied CLEANTHES. And the liker the better, insisted

PHILO. To be sure, said CLEANTHES.

Now, CLEANTHES, said PHILO, with an air of alacrity and triumph, mark the

consequences. First, By this method of reasoning, you renounce all claim

to infinity in any of the attributes of the Deity. For, as the cause

ought only to be proportioned to the effect, and the effect, so far as it

falls under our cognisance, is not infinite; what pretensions have we,

upon your suppositions, to ascribe that attribute to the Divine Being?

You will still insist, that, by removing him so much from all similarity

to human creatures, we give in to the most arbitrary hypothesis, and at

the same time weaken all proofs of his existence.

Secondly, You have no reason, on your theory, for ascribing perfection to

the Deity, even in his finite capacity, or for supposing him free from

every error, mistake, or incoherence, in his undertakings. There are many

inexplicable difficulties in the works of Nature, which, if we allow a

perfect author to be proved a priori, are easily solved, and become only

seeming difficulties, from the narrow capacity of man, who cannot trace

infinite relations. But according to your method of reasoning, these

difficulties become all real; and perhaps will be insisted on, as new

instances of likeness to human art and contrivance. At least, you must

acknowledge, that it is impossible for us to tell, from our limited

views, whether this system contains any great faults, or deserves any

considerable praise, if compared to other possible, and even real

systems. Could a peasant, if the Aeneid were read to him, pronounce that

poem to be absolutely faultless, or even assign to it its proper rank

among the productions of human wit, he, who had never seen any other

production?

But were this world ever so perfect a production, it must still remain

uncertain, whether all the excellences of the work can justly be ascribed

to the workman. If we survey a ship, what an exalted idea must we form of

the ingenuity of the carpenter who framed so complicated, useful, and

beautiful a machine? And what surprise must we feel, when we find him a

stupid mechanic, who imitated others, and copied an art, which, through a

long succession of ages, after multiplied trials, mistakes, corrections,

deliberations, and controversies, had been gradually improving? Many

worlds might have been botched and bungled, throughout an eternity, ere

this system was struck out; much labour lost, many fruitless trials made;

and a slow, but continued improvement carried on during infinite ages in

the art of world-making. In such subjects, who can determine, where the

truth; nay, who can conjecture where the probability lies, amidst a great

number of hypotheses which may be proposed, and a still greater which may

be imagined?

And what shadow of an argument, continued PHILO, can you produce, from

your hypothesis, to prove the unity of the Deity? A great number of men

join in building a house or ship, in rearing a city, in framing a

commonwealth; why may not several deities combine in contriving and

framing a world? This is only so much greater similarity to human

affairs. By sharing the work among several, we may so much further limit

the attributes of each, and get rid of that extensive power and

knowledge, which must be supposed in one deity, and which, according to

you, can only serve to weaken the proof of his existence. And if such

foolish, such vicious creatures as man, can yet often unite in framing

and executing one plan, how much more those deities or demons, whom we

may suppose several degrees more perfect!

To multiply causes without necessity, is indeed contrary to true

philosophy: but this principle applies not to the present case. Were one

deity antecedently proved by your theory, who were possessed of every

attribute requisite to the production of the universe; it would be

needless, I own, (though not absurd,) to suppose any other deity

existent. But while it is still a question, Whether all these attributes

are united in one subject, or dispersed among several independent beings,

by what phenomena in nature can we pretend to decide the controversy?

Where we see a body raised in a scale, we are sure that there is in the

opposite scale, however concealed from sight, some counterpoising weight

equal to it; but it is still allowed to doubt, whether that weight be an

aggregate of several distinct bodies, or one uniform united mass. And if

the weight requisite very much exceeds any thing which we have ever seen

conjoined in any single body, the former supposition becomes still more

probable and natural. An intelligent being of such vast power and

capacity as is necessary to produce the universe, or, to speak in the

language of ancient philosophy, so prodigious an animal exceeds all

analogy, and even comprehension.

But further, CLEANTHES: men are mortal, and renew their species by

generation; and this is common to all living creatures. The two great

sexes of male and female, says MILTON, animate the world. Why must this

circumstance, so universal, so essential, be excluded from those numerous

and limited deities? Behold, then, the theogony of ancient times brought

back upon us.

And why not become a perfect Anthropomorphite? Why not assert the deity

or deities to be corporeal, and to have eyes, a nose, mouth, ears, &c.?

EPICURUS maintained, that no man had ever seen reason but in a human

figure; therefore the gods must have a human figure. And this argument,

which is deservedly so much ridiculed by CICERO, becomes, according to

you, solid and philosophical.

In a word, CLEANTHES, a man who follows your hypothesis is able perhaps

to assert, or conjecture, that the universe, sometime, arose from

something like design: but beyond that position he cannot ascertain one

single circumstance; and is left afterwards to fix every point of his

theology by the utmost license of fancy and hypothesis. This world, for

aught he knows, is very faulty and imperfect, compared to a superior

standard; and was only the first rude essay of some infant deity, who

afterwards abandoned it, ashamed of his lame performance: it is the work

only of some dependent, inferior deity; and is the object of derision to

his superiors: it is the production of old age and dotage in some

superannuated deity; and ever since his death, has run on at adventures,

from the first impulse and active force which it received from him. You

justly give signs of horror, DEMEA, at these strange suppositions; but

these, and a thousand more of the same kind, are CLEANTHES’s

suppositions, not mine. From the moment the attributes of the Deity are

supposed finite, all these have place. And I cannot, for my part, think

that so wild and unsettled a system of theology is, in any respect,

preferable to none at all.

These suppositions I absolutely disown, cried CLEANTHES: they strike me,

however, with no horror, especially when proposed in that rambling way in

which they drop from you. On the contrary, they give me pleasure, when I

see, that, by the utmost indulgence of your imagination, you never get

rid of the hypothesis of design in the universe, but are obliged at every

turn to have recourse to it. To this concession I adhere steadily; and

this I regard as a sufficient foundation for religion.

It must be a slight fabric, indeed, said DEMEA, which can be erected on

so tottering a foundation. While we are uncertain whether there is one

deity or many; whether the deity or deities, to whom we owe our

existence, be perfect or imperfect, subordinate or supreme, dead or

alive, what trust or confidence can we repose in them? What devotion or

worship address to them? What veneration or obedience pay them? To all

the purposes of life the theory of religion becomes altogether useless:

and even with regard to speculative consequences, its uncertainty,

according to you, must render it totally precarious and unsatisfactory.

To render it still more unsatisfactory, said PHILO, there occurs to me

another hypothesis, which must acquire an air of probability from the

method of reasoning so much insisted on by CLEANTHES. That like effects

arise from like causes: this principle he supposes the foundation of all

religion. But there is another principle of the same kind, no less

certain, and derived from the same source of experience; that where

several known circumstances are observed to be similar, the unknown will

also be found similar. Thus, if we see the limbs of a human body, we

conclude that it is also attended with a human head, though hid from us.

Thus, if we see, through a chink in a wall, a small part of the sun, we

conclude, that, were the wall removed, we should see the whole body. In

short, this method of reasoning is so obvious and familiar, that no

scruple can ever be made with regard to its solidity.

Now, if we survey the universe, so far as it falls under our knowledge,

it bears a great resemblance to an animal or organised body, and seems

actuated with a like principle of life and motion. A continual

circulation of matter in it produces no disorder: a continual waste in

every part is incessantly repaired: the closest sympathy is perceived

throughout the entire system: and each part or member, in performing its

proper offices, operates both to its own preservation and to that of the

whole. The world, therefore, I infer, is an animal; and the Deity is the

SOUL of the world, actuating it, and actuated by it.

You have too much learning, CLEANTHES, to be at all surprised at this

opinion, which, you know, was maintained by almost all the Theists of

antiquity, and chiefly prevails in their discourses and reasonings. For

though, sometimes, the ancient philosophers reason from final causes, as

if they thought the world the workmanship of God; yet it appears rather

their favourite notion to consider it as his body, whose organisation

renders it subservient to him. And it must be confessed, that, as the

universe resembles more a human body than it does the works of human art

and contrivance, if our limited analogy could ever, with any propriety,

be extended to the whole of nature, the inference seems juster in favour

of the ancient than the modern theory.

There are many other advantages, too, in the former theory, which

recommended it to the ancient theologians. Nothing more repugnant to all

their notions, because nothing more repugnant to common experience, than

mind without body; a mere spiritual substance, which fell not under their

senses nor comprehension, and of which they had not observed one single

instance throughout all nature. Mind and body they knew, because they

felt both: an order, arrangement, orga