Men have some knowledge of God.
Hence we presume other Ends are to be answered.
Man has Ideas of Immortality, and wishes for it; he does not think he has Ideas and Wishes, for no End.
Hence he presumes he may be Immortal.
Man is sensible he has Duties; that the Performance of these Duties must be agreeable to God; That being agreeable to God is the way to be happy.
Experience shows him that the Performance of these Duties does not give him happiness in Life;—therefore He concludes that they must make him happy after Death; and that for that Reason, something in him must survive.
He sees that this Notion is favourable to the performance of all his Duties, and that the Contrary notion is unfavourable to it.
He observes that this Notion tends to perfect his Nature; that the contrary tends to sink him to a level of Inferiour Natures.
In disputed Questions those Notions that tend to make him better and happier, to bind him to his fellow Creatures, and to his Creator and to make him a more excellent Creature, are true rather than the Contrary. These Arguments are taken from within; the others are foreign.
If his Soul survives after Death; it does not appear why it should not live for ever.
If the Soul lives for ever, the Space of time spent in this Life is inconsiderable. It is therefore reasonable that it should take up but the smallest part of our Attention.
We do not know how far our relation to other Men shall continue after Death.
We know that our Relation to God must continue the same after Death.
We know therefore that our Duty to God is of more Moment than our Attention to ourselves or others.
It is natural to suppose that what goes first in the order of Nature should produce what follows it.
It is therefore reasonable to conclude that our Performance of our Duty here must make our fate afterwards.
It is reasonable that the smallest part of anything should be destined for the Uses of the whole, rather than that the whole should be employed for the purposes of a part.
It is therefore reasonable to suppose that our Actions here are made the
Causes
of our future happiness or Misery, and not that our future Misery and Happiness are designed as the Sanctions of our Duties here.
Hence it is that this Life is a Preparation for the next.
Hence it is that we ought not to emmerse ourselves too much in the things which make us consider this Life as our all.
Hence it is that for this Purpose we ought to deny ourselves; since an Indulgence in Pleasures here removes our Attention from further Objects, and weakens our Desire for them.
We may have observed that the Passions which arise from self love frequently clash with those Duties which arise from our Relation to other Men.
But less mischief arises from a restraint on our desires, than from indulging them to the prejudice of others.
Thus self-Denial becomes the second of the Pillars of Morality.
This is the more austere part of our Duty, and the most difficult.
If we depend upon a Superior being, it is but just that we should pray to him; because we have no other means of sufficiently expressing our Dependence; though he should already be sufficiently apprised of our wants, and willing to supply them.
If we depend upon any Superior being, it is reasonable that we should trust in him, though we do not see the Motives and tendencies of his Actions. Good Will even among Men could not be supported otherwise.
If we have Reason to suppose that he has proposed any thing, we ought to believe it firmly, though we should not thoroughly comprehend the Nature of the things proposed; otherwise we break off our Dependence as much as we should our Connexion with Men if we refused them all Credit.
God has given us a knowledge of himself, and we believe that knowledge to be of some Importance to us.
We therefore ought not to imagine it impossible that he may be willing to give us some further knowledge of his Nature or his Will.
Neither is it reasonable that we should judge it impossible for him to find fit Means of communicating this knowledge.
If he intends to communicate such knowledge, the best Proofs of such a Design are such acts of Power as can leave us no Doubt of their coming from God; for thus it is we know that he exist[s] and that he is all powerful and all-wise.
God has for the most Parts made Men the Instruments of all the Good he does to Men.
Most of their strength is from mutual Assistance.
Most of their knowledge from mutual Instruction.
There is a principal of Credit, or faith, in Man to Man without which this Assistance and Instruction would be impracticable.
Therefore Human Testimony is the strongest Proof we can have of anything; and leaves no doubt when it is very strong.
That there is such a City as Rome, is a Proposition of which we can doubt less than that the Square of the Hypotenuse is equal to the Squares of the two Sides, even when the latter is demonstrated.
The highest Degree of testimony leaves less doubt than Demonstration.
Besides the force of it is more easily and generally comprehended.
If God has revealed anything by evident Proofs from his Power, and that these Proofs of Power are conveyed to us by as high a Degree of Testimony as the thing can bear, we ought to believe it.
If the thing[s] conveyed be intended to last in the world, there must be means taken to make them last; there must be Men appointed to teach them,—and Books written to record.
There should be some evident marks of the Designation of such Men; that all may know, who they are that teach this Doctrine.
These Men should be compellable to teach it; lest the knowledge of these truths might depend upon Caprice. There must therefore be a Society for this Purpose.
A Vindication of Natural Society
Burke’s first major work, A Vindication, was published in 1756, anonymously. It seems to be a root and branch assault on the traditional social order in the style of Lord Bolingbroke’s radical deism and rationalism. In a second edition, Burke added a preface revealing that he was the “late noble writer” and describing his purpose as irony and satire. By applying Bolingbroke’s ideas on natural religion to society, he explained, he had hoped to prove how ludicrous they were. Several recent students of Burke have suggested that he was himself less sure of his intention than this preface indicates.
BEFORE the philosophical works of Lord Bolingbroke had appeared, great things were expected from the leisure of a man, who, from the splendid scene of action in which his talents had enabled him to make so conspicuous a figure, had retired to employ those talents in the investigation of truth. Philosophy began to congratulate herself upon such a proselyte from the world of business, and hoped to have extended her power under the auspices of such a leader. In the midst of these pleasing expectations, the works themselves at last appeared in
full
body, and with great pomp. Those who searched in them for new discoveries in the mysteries of nature; those who expected something which might explain or direct the operations of the mind; those who hoped to see morality illustrated and enforced; those who looked for new helps to society and government; those who desired to see the characters and passions of mankind delineated; in short, all who consider such things as philosophy, and require some of them at least in every philosophical work, all these were certainly disappointed; they found the landmarks of science precisely in their former places: and they thought they received but a poor recompense for this disappointment, in seeing every mode of religion attacked in a lively manner, and the foundation of every virtue, and of all government, sapped with great art and much ingenuity. What advantage do we derive from such writings? What delight can a man find in employing a capacity which might be usefully exerted for the noblest purposes, in a sort of sullen labor, in which, if the author could succeed, he is obliged to own, that nothing could be more fatal to mankind than his success?
I cannot conceive how this sort of writers propose to compass the designs they pretend to have in view, by the instruments which they employ. Do they pretend to exalt the mind of man, by proving him no better than a beast? Do they think to enforce the practice of virtue, by denying that vice and virtue are distinguished by good or ill fortune here, or by happiness or misery hereafter? Do they imagine they shall increase our piety, and our reliance on God, by exploding his providence, and insisting that he is neither just nor good? Such are the doctrines which, sometimes concealed, sometimes openly and fully avowed, are found to prevail throughout the writings of Lord Bolingbroke; and such are the reasonings which this noble writer and several others have been pleased to dignify with the name of philosophy. If these are delivered in a specious manner, and in a style above the common, they cannot want a number of admirers of as much docility as can be wished for in disciples. To these the editor of the following little piece has addressed it: there is no reason to conceal the design of it any longer.
The design was to show that, without the exertion of any considerable forces, the same engines which were employed for the destruction of religion, might be employed with equal success for the subversion of government; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to be questioned. It is an observation which I think Isocrates makes in one of his orations against the sophists, that it is far more easy to maintain a wrong cause, and to support paradoxical opinions to the satisfaction of a common auditory, than to establish a doubtful truth by solid and conclusive arguments. When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise; they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and unpromising. This is the fairy land of philosophy. And it very frequently happens, that those pleasing impressions on the imagination subsist and produce their effect, even after the understanding has been satisfied of their unsubstantial nature. There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober aspect of truth. I have met with a quotation in Lord Coke’s Reports that pleased me very much, though I do not know from whence he has taken it;
“Interdum
fucata
falsitas
(says he),
in multis est probabilior, et sœpe rationibus vincit nudam veritatem.”
In such cases the writer has a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that, let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of applause; and this alacrity becomes much greater if he acts upon the offensive, by the impetuosity that always accompanies an attack, and the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to the finding and exaggerating faults. The editor is satisfied that a mind which has no restraint from a sense of its own weakness, of its subordinate rank in the creation, and of the extreme danger of letting the imagination loose upon some subjects, may very plausibly attack everything the most excellent and venerable; that it would not be difficult to criticise the creation itself; and that if we were to examine the divine fabrics by our ideas of reason and fitness, and to use the same method of attack by which some men have assaulted revealed religion, we might with as good color, and with the same success, make the wisdom and power of God in his creation appear to many no better than foolishness. There is an air of plausibility which accompanies vulgar reasonings and notions, taken from the beaten circle of ordinary experience, that is admirably suited to the narrow capacities of some, and to the laziness of others. But this advantage is in a great measure lost, when a painful, comprehensive survey of a very complicated matter, and which requires a great variety of considerations, is to be made; when we must seek in a profound subject, not only for arguments, but for new materials of argument, their measures and their method of arrangement; when we must go out of the sphere of our ordinary ideas, and when we can never walk surely, but by being sensible of our blindness. And this we must do, or we do nothing, whenever we examine the result of a reason which is not our own. Even in matters which are, as it were, just within our reach, what would become of the world, if the practice of all moral duties, and the foundations of society, rested upon having their reasons made clear and demonstrative to every individual?
The editor knows that the subject of this letter is not so fully handled as obviously it might; it was not his design to say all that could possibly be said. It had been inexcusable to fill a large volume with the abuse of reason; nor would such an abuse have been tolerable, even for a few pages, if some under-plot, of more consequence than the apparent design, had not been carried on.
Some persons have thought that the advantages of the state of nature ought to have been more fully displayed. This had undoubtedly been a very ample subject for declamation; but they do not consider the character of the piece. The writers against religion, whilst they oppose every system, are wisely careful never to set up any of their own. If some inaccuracies in calculation, in reasoning, or in method, be found, perhaps these will not be looked upon as faults by the admirers of Lord Bolingbroke; who will, the editor is afraid, observe much more of his lordship’s character in such particulars of the following letter, than they are likely to find of that rapid torrent of an impetuous and overbearing eloquence, and the variety of rich imagery for which that writer is justly admired....