For, abstracted from the sickness and sufferings usually attending it,
it is no more than the expiration of that term of life God was pleased
to bestow on us, without any claim or merit on our part. But was it an
evil ever so great, it could not be remedied, but by one much greater,
which is, by living for ever; by which means, our wickedness,
unrestrained by the prospect of a future state, would grow so
insupportable, our sufferings so intolerable by perseverance, and our
pleasures so tiresome by repetition, that no being in the universe could
be so completely miserable, as a species of immortal men. We have no
reason, therefore, to look upon death as an evil, or to fear it as a
punishment, even without any supposition of a future life: but, if we
consider it, as a passage to a more perfect state, or a remove only in
an eternal succession of still-improving states, (for which we have the
strongest reasons,) it will then appear a new favour from the divine
munificence; and a man must be as absurd to repine at dying, as a
traveller would be, who proposed to himself a delightful tour through
various unknown countries, to lament, that he cannot take up his
residence at the first dirty inn, which he baits at on the road.
"The instability of human life, or of the changes of its successive
periods, of which we so frequently complain, are no more than the
necessary progress of it to this necessary conclusion; and are so far
from being evils, deserving these complaints, that they are the source
of our greatest pleasures, as they are the source of all novelty, from
which our greatest pleasures are ever derived. The continual succession
of seasons in the human life, by daily presenting to us new scenes,
render it agreeable, and, like those of the year, afford us delights by
their change, which the choicest of them could not give us by their
continuance. In the spring of life, the gilding of the sunshine, the
verdure of the fields, and the variegated paintings of the sky, are so
exquisite in the eyes of infants, at their first looking abroad into a
new world, as nothing, perhaps, afterwards can equal: the heat and
vigour of the succeeding summer of youth, ripens for us new pleasures,
the blooming maid, the nightly revel, and the jovial chase: the serene
autumn of complete manhood feasts us with the golden harvests of our
worldly pursuits: nor is the hoary winter of old age destitute of its
peculiar comforts and enjoyments, of which the recollection and relation
of those past, are, perhaps, none of the least: and, at last, death
opens to us a new prospect, from whence we shall, probably, look back
upon the diversions and occupations of this world, with the same
contempt we do now on our tops and hobby horses, and with the same
surprise, that they could ever so much entertain or engage us."
I would not willingly detract from the beauty of this paragraph; and, in
gratitude to him who has so well inculcated such important truths, I
will venture to admonish him, since the chief comfort of the old is the
recollection of the past, so to employ his time and his thoughts, that,
when the imbecility of age shall come upon him, he may be able to
recreate its languors, by the remembrance of hours spent, not in
presumptuous decisions, but modest inquiries; not in dogmatical
limitations of omnipotence, but in humble acquiescence, and fervent
adoration. Old age will show him, that much of the book, now before us,
has no other use than to perplex the scrupulous, and to shake the weak,
to encourage impious presumption, or stimulate idle curiosity.
Having thus despatched the consideration of particular evils, he comes,
at last, to a general reason, for which _evil_ may be said to be _our
good_. He is of opinion, that there is some inconceivable benefit in
pain, abstractedly considered; that pain, however inflicted, or wherever
felt, communicates some good to the general system of being, and, that
every animal is, some way or other, the better for the pain of every
other animal. This opinion he carries so far, as to suppose, that there
passes some principle of union through all animal life, as attraction is
communicated to all corporeal nature; and, that the evils suffered on
this globe, may, by some inconceivable means, contribute to the felicity
of the inhabitants of the remotest planet.
How the origin of evil is brought nearer to human conception, by any
_inconceivable_ means, I am not able to discover. We believed, that the
present system of creation was right, though we could not explain the
adaptation of one part to the other, or for the whole succession of
causes and consequences. Where has this inquirer added to the little
knowledge that we had before? He has told us of the benefits of evil,
which no man feels, and relations between distant parts of the universe,
which he cannot himself conceive. There was enough in this question
inconceivable before, and we have little advantage from a new
inconceivable solution.
I do not mean to reproach this author for not knowing what is equally
hidden from learning and from ignorance. The shame is, to impose words,
for ideas, upon ourselves or others. To imagine, that we are going
forward, when we are only turning round. To think, that there is any
difference between him that gives no reason, and him that gives a
reason, which, by his own confession, cannot be conceived.
But, that he may not be thought to conceive nothing but things
inconceivable, he has, at last, thought on a way, by which human
sufferings may produce good effects. He imagines, that as we have not
only animals for food, but choose some for our diversion, the same
privilege may be allowed to some beings above us, _who may deceive,
torment, or destroy us, for the ends, only, of their own pleasure or
utility_. This he again finds impossible to be conceived, _but that
impossibility lessens not the probability of the conjecture, which, by
analogy, is so strongly confirmed_. I cannot resist the temptation of
contemplating this analogy, which, I think, he might have carried
further, very much to the advantage of his argument. He might have
shown, that these "hunters, whose game is man," have many sports
analogous to our own. As we drown whelps and kittens, they amuse
themselves, now and then, with sinking a ship, and stand round the
fields of Blenheim, or the walls of Prague, as we encircle a cockpit. As
we shoot a bird flying, they take a man in the midst of his business or
pleasure, and knock him down with an apoplexy. Some of them, perhaps,
are virtuosi, and delight in the operations of an asthma, as a human
philosopher in the effects of the air-pump. To swell a man with a
tympany is as good sport as to blow a frog. Many a merry bout have these
frolick beings at the vicissitudes of an ague, and good sport it is to
see a man tumble with an epilepsy, and revive and tumble again, and all
this he knows not why. As they are wiser and more powerful than we, they
have more exquisite diversions; for we have no way of procuring any
sport so brisk and so lasting, as the paroxysms of the gout and stone,
which, undoubtedly, must make high mirth, especially if the play be a
little diversified with the blunders and puzzles of the blind and deaf.
We know not how far their sphere of observation may extend. Perhaps, now
and then, a merry being may place himself in such a situation, as to
enjoy, at once, all the varieties of an epidemical disease, or amuse his
leisure with the tossings and contortions of every possible pain,
exhibited together.
One sport the merry malice of these beings has found means of enjoying,
to which we have nothing equal or similar. They now and then catch a
mortal, proud of his parts, and flattered either by the submission of
those who court his kindness, or the notice of those who suffer him to
court theirs. A head, thus prepared for the reception of false opinions,
and the projection of vain designs, they easily fill with idle notions,
till, in time, they make their plaything an author; their first
diversion commonly begins with an ode or an epistle, then rises,
perhaps, to a political irony, and is, at last, brought to its height,
by a treatise of philosophy. Then begins the poor animal to entangle
himself in sophisms, and flounder in absurdity, to talk confidently of
the scale of being, and to give solutions which himself confesses
impossible to be understood. Sometimes, however, it happens, that their
pleasure is without much mischief. The author feels no pain, but while
they are wondering at the extravagance of his opinion, and pointing him
out to one another, as a new example of human folly, he is enjoying his
own applause and that of his companions, and, perhaps, is elevated with
the hope of standing at the head of a new sect.
Many of the books which now crowd the world, may be justly suspected to
be written for the sake of some invisible order of beings, for surely
they are of no use to any of the corporeal inhabitants of the world. Of
the productions of the last bounteous year, how many can be said to
serve any purpose of use or pleasure! The only end of writing is to
enable the readers better to enjoy life, or better to endure it; and how
will either of those be put more in our power, by him who tells us, that
we are puppets, of which some creature, not much wiser than ourselves,
manages the wires! That a set of beings, unseen and unheard, are
hovering about us, trying experiments upon our sensibility, putting us
in agonies, to see our limbs quiver; torturing us to madness, that they
may laugh at our vagaries; sometimes obstructing the bile, that they may
see how a man looks, when he is yellow; sometimes breaking a traveller's
bones, to try how he will get home; sometimes wasting a man to a
skeleton, and sometimes killing him fat, for the greater elegance of his
hide.
This is an account of natural evil, which though, like the rest, not
quite new, is very entertaining, though I know not how much it may
contribute to patience. The only reason why we should contemplate evil
is, that we may bear it better; and I am afraid nothing is much more
placidly endured, for the sake of making others sport.
The first pages of the fourth letter are such, as incline me both to
hope and wish that I shall find nothing to blame in the succeeding part.
He offers a criterion of action, on account of virtue and vice, for
which I have often contended, and which must be embraced by all who are
willing to know, why they act, or why they forbear to give any reason of
their conduct to themselves or others.
"In order to find out the true origin of moral evil, it will be
necessary, in the first place, to enquire into its nature and essence;
or, what it is that constitutes one action evil, and another good.
Various have been the opinions of various authors on this criterion of
virtue; and this variety has rendered that doubtful, which must,
otherwise, have been clear and manifest to the meanest capacity. Some,
indeed, have denied, that there is any such thing, because different
ages and nations have entertained different sentiments concerning it;
but this is just as reasonable, as to assert, that there are neither
sun, moon, nor stars, because astronomers have supported different
systems of the motions and magnitudes of these celestial bodies. Some
have placed it in conformity to truth, some to the fitness of things,
and others to the will of God: but all this is merely superficial: they
resolve us not, why truth, or the fitness of things, are either eligible
or obligatory, or why God should require us to act in one manner rather
than another. The true reason of which can possibly be no other than
this, because some actions produce happiness, and others misery; so that
all moral good and evil are nothing more than the production of natural.
This alone it is that makes truth preferable to falsehood, this, that
determines the fitness of things, and this that induces God to command
some actions, and forbid others. They who extol the truth, beauty, and
harmony of virtue, exclusive of its consequences, deal but in pompous
nonsense; and they, who would persuade us, that good and evil are things
indifferent, depending wholly on the will of God, do but confound the
nature of things, as well as all our notions of God himself, by
representing him capable of willing contradictions; that is, that we
should be, and be happy, and, at the same time, that we should torment
and destroy each other; for injuries cannot be made benefits, pain
cannot be made pleasure, and, consequently, vice cannot be made virtue,
by any power whatever. It is the consequences, therefore, of all human
actions that must stamp their value. So far as the general practice of
any action tends to produce good, and introduce happiness into the
world, so far we may pronounce it virtuous; so much evil as it
occasions, such is the degree of vice it contains. I say the general
practice, because we must always remember, in judging by this rule, to
apply it only to the general species of actions, and not to particular
actions; for the infinite wisdom of God, desirous to set bounds to the
destructive consequences, which must, otherwise, have followed from the
universal depravity of mankind, has so wonderfully contrived the nature
of things, that our most vitious actions may, sometimes, accidentally
and collaterally, produce good. Thus, for instance, robbery may disperse
useless hoards to the benefit of the public; adultery may bring heirs,
and good humour too, into many families, where they would otherwise have
been wanting; and murder, free the world from tyrants and oppressors.
Luxury maintains its thousands, and vanity its ten thousands.
Superstition and arbitrary power contribute to the grandeur of many
nations, and the liberties of others are preserved by the perpetual
contentions of avarice, knavery, selfishness, and ambition; and thus the
worst of vices, and the worst of men, are often compelled, by
providence, to serve the most beneficial purposes, contrary to their own
malevolent tendencies and inclinations; and thus private vices become
public benefits, by the force only of accidental circumstances. But this
impeaches not the truth of the criterion of virtue, before mentioned,
the only solid foundation on which any true system of ethics can be
built, the only plain, simple, and uniform rule, by which we can pass
any judgment on our actions; but by this we may be enabled, not only to
determine which are good, and which are evil, but, almost
mathematically, to demonstrate the proportion of virtue or vice which
belongs to each, by comparing them with the degrees of happiness or
misery which they occasion. But, though the production of happiness is
the essence of virtue, it is by no means the end; the great end is the
probation of mankind, or the giving them an opportunity of exalting or
degrading themselves, in another state, by their behaviour in the
present. And thus, indeed, it answers two most important purposes: those
are, the conservation of our happiness, and the test of our obedience;
or, had not such a test seemed necessary to God's infinite wisdom, and
productive of universal good, he would never have permitted the
happiness of men, even in this life, to have depended on so precarious a
tenure, as their mutual good behaviour to each other. For it is
observable, that he, who best knows our formation, has trusted no one
thing of importance to our reason or virtue: he trusts only to our
appetites for the support of the individual, and the continuance of our
species; to our vanity, or compassion, for our bounty to others; and to
our fears, for the preservation of ourselves; often to our vices, for
the support of government, and, sometimes, to our follies, for the
preservation of our religion. But, since some test of our obedience was
necessary, nothing, sure, could have been commanded for that end, so
fit, and proper, and, at the same time, so useful, as the practice of
virtue; nothing could have been so justly rewarded with happiness, as
the production of happiness, in conformity to the will of God. It is
this conformity, alone, which adds merit to virtue, and constitutes the
essential difference between morality and religion. Morality obliges men
to live honestly and soberly, because such behaviour is most conducive
to public happiness, and, consequently, to their own; religion, to
pursue the same course, because conformable to the will of their
creator. Morality induces them to embrace virtue, from prudential
considerations; religion, from those of gratitude and obedience.
Morality, therefore, entirely abstracted from religion, can have nothing
meritorious in it; it being but wisdom, prudence, or good economy,
which, like health, beauty, or riches, are rather obligations conferred
upon us by God, than merits in us towards him; for, though we may be
justly punished for injuring ourselves, we can claim no reward for
self-preservation; as suicide deserves punishment and infamy, but a man
deserves no reward or honours for not being guilty of it. This I take to
be the meaning of all those passages in our scriptures, in which works
are represented to have no merit without faith; that is, not without
believing in historical facts, in creeds, and articles, but, without
being done in pursuance of our belief in God, and in obedience to his
commands. And now, having mentioned scripture, I cannot omit observing,
that the christian is the only religious or moral institution in the
world, that ever set, in a right light, these two material points, the
essence and the end of virtue, that ever founded the one in the
production of happiness, that is, in universal benevolence, or, in their
language, charity to all men; the other, in the probation of man, and
his obedience to his creator. Sublime and magnificent as was the
philosophy of the ancients, all their moral systems were deficient in
these two important articles. They were all built on the sandy
foundations of the innate beauty of virtue, or enthusiastic patriotism;
and their great point in view was the contemptible reward of human
glory; foundations, which were, by no means, able to support the
magnificent structures which they erected upon them; for the beauty of
virtue, independent of its effects, is unmeaning nonsense; patriotism,
which injures mankind in general, for the sake of a particular country,
is but a more extended selfishness, and really criminal; and all human
glory, but a mean and ridiculous delusion.
"The whole affair, then, of religion and morality, the subject of so
many thousand volumes, is, in short, no more than this: the supreme
being, infinitely good, as well as powerful, desirous to diffuse
happiness by all possible means, has created innumerable ranks and
orders of beings, all subservient to each other by proper subordination.
One of these is occupied by man, a creature endued with such a certain
degree of knowledge, reason, and freewill, as is suitable to his
situation, and placed, for a time, on this globe, as in a school of
probation and education. Here he has an opportunity given him of
improving or debasing his nature, in such a manner, as to render himself
fit for a rank of higher perfection and happiness, or to degrade himself
to a state of greater imperfection and misery; necessary, indeed,
towards carrying on the business of the universe, but very grievous and
burdensome to those individuals who, by their own misconduct, are
obliged to submit to it. The test of this his behaviour is doing good,
that is, cooperating with his creator, as far as his narrow sphere of
action will permit, in the production of happiness. And thus the
happiness and misery of a future state will be the just reward or
punishment of promoting or preventing happiness in this. So
artificially, by this means, is the nature of all human virtue and vice
contrived, that their rewards and punishments are woven, as it were, in
their very essence; their immediate effects give us a foretaste of their
future, and their fruits, in the present life, are the proper samples of
what they must unavoidably produce in another. We have reason given us
to distinguish these consequences, and regulate our conduct; and, lest
that should neglect its post, conscience also is appointed, as an
instinctive kind of monitor, perpetually to remind us both of our
interest and our duty."
"Si sic omnia dixisset!" To this account of the essence of vice and
virtue, it is only necessary to add, that the consequences of human
actions being sometimes uncertain, and sometimes remote, it is not
possible, in many cases, for most men, nor in all cases, for any man, to
determine what actions will ultimately produce happiness, and,
therefore, it was proper that revelation should lay down a rule to be
followed, invariably, in opposition to appearances, and, in every change
of circumstances, by which we may be certain to promote the general
felicity, and be set free from the dangerous temptation of _doing evil
that good may come_. Because it may easily happen, and, in effect, will
happen, very frequently, that our own private happiness may be promoted
by an act injurious to others, when yet no man can be obliged, by
nature, to prefer, ultimately, the happiness of others to his own;
therefore, to the instructions of infinite wisdom, it was necessary that
infinite power should add penal sanctions. That every man, to whom those
instructions shall be imparted, may know, that he can never, ultimately,
injure himself by benefiting others, or, ultimately, by injuring others
benefit himself; but that, however the lot of the good and bad may be
huddled together in the seeming confusion of our present state, the time
shall undoubtedly come, when the most virtuous will be most happy.
I am sorry, that the remaining part of this letter is not equal to the
first. The author has, indeed, engaged in a disquisition, in which we
need not wonder if he fails, in the solution of questions on which
philosophers have employed their abilities from the earliest times,
"And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost."
He denies, that man was created _perfect_, because the system requires
subordination, and because the power of losing his perfection, of
"rendering himself wicked and miserable, is the highest imperfection
imaginable." Besides, the regular gradations of the scale of being
required, somewhere, "such a creature as man, with all his infirmities
about him; and the total removal of those would be altering his nature,
and, when he became perfect, he must cease to be man."
I have already spent some considerations on the _scale of being_, of
which, yet, I am obliged to renew the mention, whenever a new argument
is made to rest upon it; and I must, therefore, again remark, that
consequences cannot have greater certainty than the postulate from which
they are drawn, and that no system can be more hypothetical than this,
and, perhaps, no hypothesis more absurd.
He again deceives himself with respect to the perfection with which
_man_ is held to be originally vested. "That man came perfect, that is,
endued with all possible perfection, out of the hands of his creator, is
a false notion derived from the philosophers.--The universal system
required subordination, and, consequently, comparative imperfection."
That _man was ever endued with all possible perfection_, that is, with
all perfection, of which the idea is not contradictory, or destructive
of itself, is, undoubtedly, _false_. But it can hardly be called _a
false notion_, because no man ever thought it, nor can it be derived
from the _philosophers_; for, without pretending to guess what
philosophers he may mean, it is very safe to affirm, that no philosopher
ever said it. Of those who now maintain that _man_ was once perfect, who
may very easily be found, let the author inquire, whether _man_ was ever
omniscient, whether he was ever omnipotent; whether he ever had even the
lower power of archangels or angels. Their answers will soon inform him,
that the supposed perfection of _man_ was not absolute, but respective;
that he was perfect, in a sense consistent enough with subordination,
perfect, not as compared with different beings, but with himself in his
present degeneracy; not perfect, as an angel, but perfect, as man.
From this perfection, whatever it was, he thinks it necessary that man
should be debarred, because pain is necessary to the good of the
universe; and the pain of one order of beings extending its salutary
influence to innumerable orders above and below, it was necessary that
man should suffer; but, because it is not suitable to justice, that pain
should be inflicted on innocence, it was necessary that man should be
criminal.
This is given as a satisfactory account of the original of moral evil,
which amounts only to this, that God created beings, whose guilt he
foreknew, in order that he might have proper objects of pain, because
the pain of part is, no man knows how or why, necessary to the felicity
of the whole.
The perfection which man once had, may be so easily conceived, that,
without any unusual strain of imagination, we can figure its revival.
All the duties to God or man, that are neglected, we may fancy
performed; all the crimes, that are committed, we may conceive forborne.
Man will then be restored to his moral perfections; and into what head
can it enter, that, by this change, the universal system would be
shaken, or the condition of any order of beings altered for the worse?
He comes, in the fifth letter, to political, and, in the sixth, to
religious evils. Of political evil, if we suppose the origin of moral
evil discovered, the account is by no means difficult; polity being only
the conduct of immoral men in publick affairs. The evils of each
particular kind of government are very clearly and elegantly displayed,
and, from their secondary causes, very rationally deduced; but the first
cause lies still in its ancient obscurity. There is, in this letter,
nothing new, nor any thing eminently instructive; one of his practical
deductions, that "from government, evils cannot be eradicated, and their
excess only can be prevented," has been always allowed; the question,
upon which all dissension arises, is, when that excess begins, at what
point men shall cease to bear, and attempt to remedy.
Another of his precepts, though not new, well deserves to be
transcribed, because it cannot be too frequently impressed.
"What has here been said of their imperfections and abuses, is, by no
means, intended as a defence of them: every wise man ought to redress
them to the utmost of his power; which can be effected by one method
only, that is, by a reformation of manners; for, as all political evils
derive their original from moral, these can never be removed, until
those are first amended. He, therefore, who strictly adheres to virtue
and sobriety in his conduct, and enforces them by his example, does more
real service to a state, than he who displaces a minister, or dethrones
a tyrant: this gives but a temporary relief, but that exterminates the
cause of the disease. No immoral man, then, can possibly be a true
patriot; and all those who profess outrageous zeal for the liberty and
prosperity of their country, and, at the same time, infringe her laws,
affront her religion, and debauch her people, are but despicable quacks,
by fraud or ignorance increasing the disorders they pretend to remedy."
Of religion he has said nothing but what he has learned, or might have
learned, from the divines; that it is not universal, because it must be
received upon conviction, and successively received by those whom
conviction reached; that its evidences and sanctions are not
irresistible, because it was intended to induce, not to compel; and that
it is obscure, because we want faculties to comprehend it. What he means
by his assertion, that it wants policy, I do not well understand; he
does not mean to deny, that a good christian will be a good governour,
or a good subject; and he has before justly observed, that the good man
only is a patriot.
Religion has been, he says, corrupted by the wickedness of those to whom
it was communicated, and has lost part of its efficacy, by its connexion
with temporal interest and human passion.
He justly observes, that from all this no conclusion can be drawn
against the divine original of christianity, since the objections arise
not from the nature of the revelation, but of him to whom it is
communicated.
All this is known, and all this is true; but why, we have not yet
discovered. Our author, if I understand him right, pursues the argument
thus: the religion of man produces evils, because the morality of man is
imperfect; his morality is imperfect, that he may be justly a subject of
punishment; he is made subject to punishment, because the pain of part
is necessary to the happiness of the whole; pain is necessary to
happiness, no mortal can tell why, or how.
Thus, after having clambered, with great labour, from one step of
argumentation to another, instead of rising into the light of knowledge,
we are devolved back into dark ignorance; and all our effort ends in
belief, that for the evils of life there is some good reason, and in
confession, that the reason cannot be found. This is all that has been
produced by the revival of Chrysippus's untractableness of matter, and
the Arabian scale of existence. A system has been raised, which is so
ready to fall to pieces of itself, that no great praise can be derived
from its destruction. To object, is always easy, and, it has been well
observed by a late writer, that "the hand which cannot build a hovel,
may demolish a temple [11]."
REVIEW OF THE HISTORY OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF LONDON, FOR IMPROVING OF
NATURAL KNOWLEDGE, FROM ITS FIRST RISE;
In which the most considerable papers communicated to the society, which
have, hitherto, not been published, are inserted, in their proper order,
as a supplement to the Philosophical Transactions. By Thomas Birch, D.
D. secretary to the Royal society, 2 vols. 4to.
This book might, more properly, have been entitled by the author, a
diary than a history, as it proceeds regularly from day to day, so
minutely, as to number over the members present at each committee, and
so slowly, that two large volumes contain only the transactions of the
eleven first years from the institution of the society.
I am, yet, far from intending to represent this work as useless. Many
particularities are of importance to one man, though they appear
trifling to another; and it is always more safe to admit copiousness,
than to affect brevity. Many informations will be afforded by this book
to the biographer. I know not where else it can be found, but here, and
in Ward, that Cowley was doctor in physick. And, whenever any other
institution, of the same kind, shall be attempted, the exact relation of
the progress of the Royal society may furnish precedents.
These volumes consist of an exact journal of the society; of some papers
delivered to them, which, though registered and preserved, had been
never printed; and of short memoirs of the more eminent members,
inserted at the end of the year in which each died.
The original of the society is placed earlier in this history than in
that of Dr. Sprat. Theodore Haak, a German of the Palatinate, in 1645,
proposed, to some inquisitive and learned men, a weekly meeting, for the
cultivation of natural knowledge. The first associates, whose names
ought, surely, to be preserved, were Dr. Wilkins, Dr. Wallis, Dr.
Goddard, Dr. Ent, Dr. Glisson, Dr. Merret, Mr. Foster of Gresham, and
Mr. Haak. Sometime afterwards, Wilkins, Wallis, and Goddard, being
removed to Oxford, carried on the same design there by stated meetings,
and adopted into their society Dr. Ward, Dr. Bathurst, Dr. Petty, and
Dr. Willis.
The Oxford society coming to London, in 1659, joined their friends, and
augmented their number, and, for some time, met in Gresham college.
After the restoration, their number was again increased, and on the 28th
of November, 1660, a select party happening to retire for conversation,
to Mr. Rooke's apartment in Gresham college, formed the first plan of a
regular society. Here Dr. Sprat's history begins, and, therefore, from
this period, the proceedings are well known [12].