public transactions in the last century, the Author, on a more accurate
examination, found reason to retract in his History of Great Britain.
And as he would not enslave himself to the systems of either party,
neither would he fetter his judgment by his own preconceived opinions
and principles; nor is he ashamed to acknowledge his mistakes. These
mistakes were indeed, at that time almost universal in this kingdom.
OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM
That _the corruption of the best of things produces the worst_, is grown
into a maxim, and is commonly proved, among other instances, by the
pernicious effects of _superstition_ and _enthusiasm_, the corruptions
of true religion.
These two species of false religion, though both pernicious, are yet of
a very different, and even of a contrary nature. The mind of man is
subject to certain unaccountable terrors and apprehensions, proceeding
either from the unhappy situation of private or public affairs, from ill
health, from a gloomy and melancholy disposition, or from the
concurrence of all these circumstances. In such a state of mind,
infinite unknown evils are dreaded from unknown agents; and where real
objects of terror are wanting, the soul, active to its own prejudice,
and fostering its predominant inclination, finds imaginary ones, to
whose power and malevolence it sets no limits. As these enemies are
entirely invisible and unknown, the methods taken to appease them are
equally unaccountable, and consist in ceremonies, observances,
mortifications, sacrifices, presents, or in any practice, however absurd
or frivolous, which either folly or knavery recommends to a blind and
terrified credulity. Weakness, fear, melancholy, together with
ignorance, are, therefore, the true sources of Superstition.
But the mind of man is also subject to an unaccountable elevation and
presumption, arising from prosperous success, from luxuriant health,
from strong spirits, or from a bold and confident disposition. In such a
state of mind, the imagination swells with great, but confused
conceptions, to which no sublunary beauties or enjoyments can
correspond. Every thing mortal and perishable vanishes as unworthy of
attention; and a full range is given to the fancy in the invisible
regions, or world of Spirits, where the soul is at liberty to indulge
itself in every imagination, which may best suit its present taste and
disposition. Hence arise raptures, transports, and surprising flights of
fancy; and, confidence and presumption still increasing, these raptures,
being altogether unaccountable, and seeming quite beyond the reach of
our ordinary faculties, are attributed to the immediate inspiration of
that Divine Being who is the object of devotion. In a little time, the
inspired person comes to regard himself as a distinguished favourite of
the Divinity; and when this phrensy once takes place, which is the
summit of enthusiasm, every whimsey is consecrated: human reason, and
even morality, are rejected as fallacious guides, and the fanatic madman
delivers himself over, blindly and without reserve, to the supposed
illapses of the Spirit, and to inspiration from above. Hope, pride,
presumption, a warm imagination, together with ignorance, are therefore
the true sources of Enthusiasm.
These two species of false religion might afford occasion to many
speculations, but I shall confine myself, at present, to a few
reflections concerning their different influence on government and
society.
My _first_ reflection is, _that superstition is favourable to priestly
power, and enthusiasm not less, or rather more contrary to it, than
sound reason and philosophy._ As superstition is founded on fear,
sorrow, and a depression of spirits, it represents the man to himself in
such despicable colours, that he appears unworthy, in his own eyes, of
approaching the Divine presence, and naturally has recourse to any other
person, whose sanctity of life, or perhaps impudence and cunning, have
made him be supposed more favoured by the Divinity. To him the
superstitious intrust their devotions to his care they recommend their
prayers, petitions, and sacrifices: and by his means, they hope to
render their addresses acceptable to their incensed Deity. Hence the
origin of Priests, who may justly be regarded as an invention of a
timorous and abject superstition, which, ever diffident of itself, dares
not offer up its own devotions, but ignorantly thinks to recommend
itself to the Divinity, by the mediation of his supposed friends and
servants. As superstition is a considerable ingredient in almost all
religions, even the most fanatical; there being nothing but philosophy
able entirely to conquer these unaccountable terrors; hence it proceeds,
that in almost every sect of religion there are priests to be found: but
the stronger mixture there is of superstition, the higher is the
authority of the priesthood.
On the other hand, it may be observed, that all enthusiasts have been
free from the yoke of ecclesiastics, and have expressed great
independence in their devotion, with a contempt of forms, ceremonies,
and traditions. The _Quakers_ are the most egregious, though, at the
same time, the most innocent enthusiasts that have yet been known; and
are perhaps the only sect that have never admitted priests among them.
The _Independents_, of all the English sectaries, approach nearest to
the _Quakers_ in fanaticism, and in their freedom from priestly bondage.
The _Presbyterians_ follow after, at an equal distance, in both
particulars. In short, this observation is founded in experience; and
will also appear to be founded in reason, if we consider, that, as
enthusiasm arises from a presumptuous pride and confidence, it thinks
itself sufficiently qualified to _approach_ the Divinity, without any
human mediator. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even
imagines itself _actually_ to _approach_ him by the way of contemplation
and inward converse; which makes it neglect all those outward ceremonies
and observances, to which the assistance of the priests appears so
requisite in the eyes of their superstitious votaries. The fanatic
consecrates himself, and bestows on his own person a sacred character,
much superior to what forms and ceremonious institutions can confer on
any other.
My _second_ reflection with regard to these species of false religion
is, _that religions which partake of enthusiasm, are, on their first
rise, more furious and violent than those which partake of superstition;
but in a little time become more gentle and moderate._ The violence of
this species of religion, when excited by novelty, and animated by
opposition, appears from numberless instances; of the _Anabaptists_ in
Germany, the _Camisars_ in France, the _Levellers_, and other fanatics
in England, and the _Covenanters_ in Scotland. Enthusiasm being founded
on strong spirits, and a presumptuous boldness of character, it
naturally begets the most extreme resolutions; especially after it rises
to that height as to inspire the deluded fanatic with the opinion of
Divine illuminations, and with a contempt for the common rules of
reason, morality, and prudence.
It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel disorders in human
society; but its fury is like that of thunder and tempest, which exhaust
themselves in a little time, and leave the air more calm and serene than
before. When the first fire of enthusiasm is spent, men naturally, in
all fanatical sects, sink into the greatest remissness and coolness in
sacred matters; there being no body of men among them endowed with
sufficient authority, whose interest is concerned to support the
religious spirit; no rites, no ceremonies, no holy observances, which
may enter into the common train of life, and preserve the sacred
principles from oblivion. Superstition, on the contrary, steals in
gradually and insensibly; renders men tame and submissive; is acceptable
to the magistrate, and seems inoffensive to the people: till at last the
priest, having firmly established his authority, becomes the tyrant and
disturber of human society, by his endless contentions, persecutions,
and religious wars. How smoothly did the Romish church advance in her
acquisition of power! But into what dismal convulsions did she throw all
Europe, in order to maintain it! On the other hand, our sectaries, who
were formerly such dangerous bigots, are now become very free reasoners;
and the _Quakers_ seem to approach nearly the only regular body of
_Deists_ in the universe, the _literati_ or the disciples of Confucius
in China.[1]
My _third_ observation on this head is, _that superstition is an enemy
to civil liberty, and enthusiasm a friend to it._ As superstition groans
under the dominion of priests, and enthusiasm is destructive of all
ecclesiastical power, this sufficiently accounts for the present
observation. Not to mention that enthusiasm, being the infirmity of bold
and ambitious tempers, is naturally accompanied with a spirit of
liberty, as superstition, on the contrary, renders men tame and abject,
and fits them for slavery. We learn from English history, that, during
the civil wars, the _Independents_ and _Deists_, though the most
opposite in their religious principles, yet were united in their
political ones, and were alike passionate for a commonwealth. And since
the origin of _Whig_ and _Tory_, the leaders of the _Whigs_ have either
been _Deists_ or professed _Latitudinarian_s in their principles; that
is, friends to toleration, and indifferent to any particular sect of
_Christians_: while the sectaries, who have all a strong tincture of
enthusiasm, have always, without exception, concurred with that party in
defence of civil liberty. The resemblance in their superstitions long
united the High-Church _Tories_ and the _Roman Catholics_, in support of
prerogative and kingly power, though experience of the tolerating spirit
of the _Whigs_ seems of late to have reconciled the _Catholics_ to that
party.
The _Molinists_ and _Jansenists_ in France have a thousand
unintelligible disputes, which are not worthy the reflection of a man of
sense: but what principally distinguishes these two sects, and alone
merits attention, is the different spirit of their religion. The
_Molinists_, conducted by the _Jesuits_, are great friends to
superstition, rigid observers of external forms and ceremonies, and
devoted to the authority of the priests, and to tradition. The
_Jansenists_ are enthusiasts, and zealous promoters of the passionate
devotion, and of the inward life, little influenced by authority, and,
in a word, but half Catholics. The consequences are exactly conformable
to the foregoing reasoning. The _Jesuits_ are the tyrants of the people,
and the slaves of the court; and the _Jansenists_ preserve alive the
small sparks of the love of liberty which are to be found in the French
nation.
[1] The Chinese literati have no priests or ecclesiastical
establishment.
OF THE DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE
There are certain sects which secretly form themselves in the learned
world, as well as factions in the political; and though sometimes they
come not to an open rupture, they give a different turn to the ways of
thinking of those who have taken part on either side. The most
remarkable of this kind are the sects founded on the different
sentiments with regard to the _dignity of human nature_; which is a
point that seems to have divided philosophers and poets, as well as
divines, from the beginning of the world to this day. Some exalt our
species to the skies, and represent man as a kind of human demigod, who
derives his origin from heaven, and retains evident marks of his lineage
and descent. Others insist upon the blind sides of human nature, and can
discover nothing, except vanity, in which man surpasses the other
animals, whom he affects so much to despise. If an author possess the
talent of rhetoric and declamation, he commonly takes part with the
former: if his turn lie towards irony and ridicule, he naturally throws
himself into the other extreme.
I am far from thinking that all those who have depreciated our species
have been enemies to virtue, and have exposed the frailties of their
fellow-creatures with any bad intention. On the contrary, I am sensible
that a delicate sense of morals, especially when attended with a
splenetic temper, is apt to give a man a disgust of the world, and to
make him consider the common course of human affairs with too much
indignation. I must, however, be of opinion, that the sentiments of
those who are inclined to think favourably of mankind, are more
advantageous to virtue than the contrary principles, which give us a
mean opinion of our nature. When a man is prepossessed with a high
notion of his rank and character in the creation, he will naturally
endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn to do a base or vicious action
which might sink him below that figure which he makes in his own
imagination. Accordingly, we find, that all our polite and fashionable
moralists insist upon this topic, and endeavour to represent vice
unworthy of man, as well as odious in itself.[1]
We find new disputes that are not founded on some ambiguity in the
expression; and I am persuaded that the present dispute, concerning the
dignity or meanness of human nature, is not more exempt from it than any
other. It may therefore be worth while to consider what is real, and
what is only verbal, in this controversy.
That there is a natural difference between merit and demerit, virtue and
vice, wisdom and folly, no reasonable man will deny, yet it is evident
that, in affixing the term, which denotes either our approbation or
blame, we are commonly more influenced by comparison than by any fixed
unalterable standard in the nature of things. In like manner, quantity,
and extension, and bulk, are by every one acknowledged to be real
things: but when we call any animal _great_ or _little_, we always form
a secret comparison between that animal and others of the same species;
and it is that comparison which regulates our judgment concerning its
greatness. A dog and a horse may be of the very same size, while the one
is admired for the greatness of its bulk, and the other for the
smallness. When I am present, therefore, at any dispute, I always
consider with myself whether it be a question of comparison or not that
is the subject of controversy; and if it be, whether the disputants
compare the same objects together, or talk of things that are widely
different.
In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt to make a comparison
between men and animals, the only creatures endowed with thought that
fall under our senses. Certainly this comparison is favourable to
mankind. On the one hand, we see a creature whose thoughts are not
limited by any narrow bounds, either of place or time; who carries his
researches into the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this
globe, to the planets and heavenly bodies; looks backward to consider
the first origin, at least the history of the human race; casts his eye
forward to see the influence of his actions upon posterity and the
judgments which will be formed of his character a thousand years hence;
a creature, who traces causes and effects to a great length and
intricacy, extracts general principles from particular appearances;
improves upon his discoveries; corrects his mistakes; and makes his very
errors profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a creature
the very reverse of this; limited in its observations and reasonings to
a few sensible objects which surround it; without curiosity, without
foresight; blindly conducted by instinct, and attaining, in a short
time, its utmost perfection, beyond which it is never able to advance a
single step. What a wide difference is there between these creatures!
And how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former, in comparison
of the latter.
There are two means commonly employed to destroy this conclusion:
_First_, By making an unfair representation of the case, and insisting
only upon the weakness of human nature. And, _secondly_, By forming a
new and secret comparison between man and beings of the most perfect
wisdom. Among the other excellences of man, this is one, that he can
form an idea of perfections much beyond what he has experience of in
himself; and is not limited in his conception of wisdom and virtue. He
can easily exalt his notions, and conceive a degree of knowledge, which,
when compared to his own, will make the latter appear very contemptible,
and will cause the difference between that and the sagacity of animals,
in a manner, to disappear and vanish. Now this being a point in which
all the world is agreed, that human understanding falls infinitely short
of perfect wisdom, it is proper we should know when this comparison
takes place, that we may not dispute where there is no real difference
in our sentiments. Man falls much more short of perfect wisdom, and even
of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than animals do of man; yet the
latter difference is so considerable, that nothing but a comparison with
the former can make it appear of little moment.
It is also usual to _compare_ one man with another; and finding very few
whom we can call _wise_ or _virtuous_, we are apt to entertain a
contemptible notion of our species in general. That we may be sensible
of the fallacy of this way of reasoning, we may observe, that the
honourable appellations of wise and virtuous are not annexed to any
particular degree of those qualities of _wisdom_ and _virtue_, but arise
altogether from the comparison we make between one man and another. When
we find a man who arrives at such a pitch of wisdom, as is very
uncommon, we pronounce him a wise man: so that to say there are few wise
men in the world, is really to say nothing; since it is only by their
scarcity that they merit that appellation. Were the lowest of our
species as wise as Tully or Lord Bacon, we should still have reason to
say that there are few wise men. For in that case we should exalt our
notions of wisdom, and should not pay a singular homage to any one who
was not singularly distinguished by his talents. In like manner, I have
heard it observed by thoughtless people, that there are few women
possessed of beauty in comparison of those who want it; not considering
that we bestow the epithet of _beautiful_ only on such as possess a
degree of beauty that is common to them with a few. The same degree of
beauty in a woman is called deformity, which is treated as real beauty
in one of our sex.
As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to _compare_ it with
the other species above or below it, or to compare the individuals of
the species among themselves; so we often compare together the different
motives or actuating principles of human nature, in order to regulate
our judgment concerning it. And, indeed, this is the only kind of
comparison which is worth our attention, or decides any thing in the
present question. Were our selfish and vicious principles so much
predominant above our social and virtuous, as is asserted by some
philosophers, we ought undoubtedly to entertain a contemptible notion of
human nature.[2]
There is much of a dispute of words in all this controversy. When a man
denies the sincerity of all public spirit or affection to a country and
community, I am at a loss what to think of him. Perhaps he never felt
this passion in so clear and distinct a manner as to remove all his
doubts concerning its force and reality. But when he proceeds afterwards
to reject all private friendship, if no interest or self-love intermix
itself; I am then confident that he abuses terms, and confounds the
ideas of things; since it is impossible for any one to be so selfish, or
rather so stupid, as to make no difference between one man and another,
and give no preference to qualities which engage his approbation and
esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensible to anger as he pretends to be
to friendship? And does injury and wrong no more affect him than
kindness or benefits? Impossible: he does not know himself: he has
forgotten the movements of his heart; or rather, he makes use of a
different language from the rest of his countrymen and calls not things
by their proper names. What say you of natural affection? (I subjoin),
Is that also a species of self-love? Yes; all is self-love. _Your_
children are loved only because they are yours: _your_ friend for a like
reason; and _your_ country engages you only so far as it has a
connection with _yourself_. Were the idea of self removed, nothing
would affect you: you would be altogether unactive and insensible: or,
if you ever give yourself any movement, it would only be from vanity,
and a desire of fame and reputation to this same self. I am willing,
reply I, to receive your interpretation of human actions, provided you
admit the facts. That species of self-love which displays itself in
kindness to others, you must allow to have great influence over human
actions, and even greater, on many occasions, than that which remains in
its original shape and form. For how few are there, having a family,
children, and relations, who do not spend more on the maintenance and
education of these than on their own pleasures? This, indeed, you justly
observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the prosperity of their
family and friends is one, or the chief of their pleasures, as well as
their chief honour. Be you also one of these selfish men, and you are
sure of every one's good opinion and good-will; or, not to shock your
ears with their expressions, the self-love of every one, and mine among
the rest, will then incline us to serve you, and speak well of you.
In my opinion, there are two things which have led astray those
philosophers that have insisted so much on the selfishness of man. In
the _first_ place, they found that every act of virtue or friendship was
attended with a secret pleasure; whence they concluded, that friendship
and virtue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is
obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion produces the pleasure, and
does not arise from it. I feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend,
because I love him; but do not love him for the sake of that pleasure.
In the _second_ place, it has always been found, that the virtuous are
far from being indifferent to praise; and therefore they have been
represented as a set of vainglorious men, who had nothing in view but
the applauses of others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very unjust
in the world, when they find any tincture of vanity in a laudable
action, to depreciate it upon that account, or ascribe it entirely to
that motive. The case is not the same with vanity, as with other
passions. Where avarice or revenge enters into any seemingly virtuous
action, it is difficult for us to determine how far it enters, and it is
natural to suppose it the sole actuating principle. But vanity is so
closely allied to virtue, and to love the fame of laudable actions
approaches so near the love of laudable actions for their own sake, that
these passions are more capable of mixture, than any other kinds of
affection; and it is almost impossible to have the latter without some
degree of the former. Accordingly we find, that this passion for glory
is always warped and varied according to the particular taste or
disposition of the mind on which it falls. Nero had the same vanity in
driving a chariot, that Trajan had in governing the empire with justice
and ability. To love the glory of virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the
love of virtue.
[1] Women are generally much more flattered in their youth than men,
which may proceed from this reason among others, that their chief point
of honour is considered as much more difficult than ours, and requires
to be supported by all that decent pride which can be instilled into
them.