Part 1

After I joined the company, whom I found sitting in CLEANTHES's library, DEMEA paid CLEANTHES some compliments on the great care which he took of my education, and on his unwearied perseverance and constancy in all his friendships. The father of PAMPHILUS, said he, was your intimate friend: The son is your pupil; and may indeed be regarded as your adopted son, were we to judge by the pains which you bestow in conveying to him every useful branch of literature and science. You are no more wanting, I am persuaded, in prudence, than in industry. I shall, therefore, communicate to you a maxim, which I have observed with regard to my own children, that I may learn how far it agrees with your practice. The method I follow in their education is founded on the saying of an ancient, "That students of philosophy ought first to learn logics, then ethics, next physics, last of all the nature of the gods." [Chrysippus apud Plut: de repug: Stoicorum] This science of natural theology, according to him, being the most profound and abstruse of any, required the maturest judgement in its students; and none but a mind enriched with all the other sciences, can safely be entrusted with it.

I joined the group, whom I found sitting in CLEANTHES's library. DEMEA complimented CLEANTHES on the great care he took with my education. He also praised his tireless commitment and loyalty to all his friends. The father of PAMPHILUS, he said, was your close friend. The son is your pupil. Indeed, he may be regarded as your adopted son, judging by your efforts to teach him. You take pains to teach him every useful branch of literature and science. I am convinced that you show as much good judgment as diligence. So I will share a principle I have followed in educating my own children, to see how closely our practices agree. My approach to their education rests on an ancient thinker's saying: "Students of philosophy should first learn logic, then ethics, next physics, and finally the nature of the gods." [Chrysippus apud Plut: de repug: Stoicorum] According to him, natural theology was the deepest and most difficult of all sciences. It therefore required students with the most mature judgment. Only a mind enriched by all the other sciences could safely be trusted to study it.

Are you so late, says PHILO, in teaching your children the principles of religion? Is there no danger of their neglecting, or rejecting altogether those opinions of which they have heard so little during the whole course of their education? It is only as a science, replied DEMEA, subjected to human reasoning and disputation, that I postpone the study of Natural Theology. To season their minds with early piety, is my chief care; and by continual precept and instruction, and I hope too by example, I imprint deeply on their tender minds an habitual reverence for all the principles of religion. While they pass through every other science, I still remark the uncertainty of each part; the eternal disputations of men; the obscurity of all philosophy; and the strange, ridiculous conclusions, which some of the greatest geniuses have derived from the principles of mere human reason. Having thus tamed their mind to a proper submission and self-diffidence, I have no longer any scruple of opening to them the greatest mysteries of religion; nor apprehend any danger from that assuming arrogance of philosophy, which may lead them to reject the most established doctrines and opinions.

Do you wait so long, says PHILO, before teaching your children the principles of religion? Is there no danger that they will neglect or entirely reject those beliefs? After all, they have heard so little about those beliefs throughout their education. I postpone Natural Theology only as a subject open to human reasoning and debate, replied DEMEA. My chief concern is to fill their minds with religious devotion from an early age. Through constant teaching and guidance, and I hope through example too, I deeply impress religious reverence on their young minds. I make reverence for all the principles of religion a habit. As they study every other science, I keep pointing out the uncertainty in every part. I point out the endless disputes among people and the obscurity of all philosophy. I also highlight the strange, ridiculous conclusions some of the greatest minds have drawn from human reason alone. In this way, I bring their minds into proper submission and teach them to distrust their own judgment. Once I have done so, I no longer hesitate to introduce them to the greatest mysteries of religion. Nor do I fear the presumptuous arrogance of philosophy, which may lead them to reject the most firmly established doctrines and beliefs.

Your precaution, says PHILO, of seasoning your children's minds early with piety, is certainly very reasonable; and no more than is requisite in this profane and irreligious age. But what I chiefly admire in your plan of education, is your method of drawing advantage from the very principles of philosophy and learning, which, by inspiring pride and self-sufficiency, have commonly, in all ages, been found so destructive to the principles of religion. The vulgar, indeed, we may remark, who are unacquainted with science and profound inquiry, observing the endless disputes of the learned, have commonly a thorough contempt for philosophy; and rivet themselves the faster, by that means, in the great points of theology which have been taught them. Those who enter a little into study and inquiry, finding many appearances of evidence in doctrines the newest and most extraordinary, think nothing too difficult for human reason; and, presumptuously breaking through all fences, profane the inmost sanctuaries of the temple. But CLEANTHES will, I hope, agree with me, that, after we have abandoned ignorance, the surest remedy, there is still one expedient left to prevent this profane liberty. Let DEMEA's principles be improved and cultivated: Let us become thoroughly sensible of the weakness, blindness, and narrow limits of human reason: Let us duly consider its uncertainty and endless contrarieties, even in subjects of common life and practice: Let the errors and deceits of our very senses be set before us; the insuperable difficulties which attend first principles in all systems; the contradictions which adhere to the very ideas of matter, cause and effect, extension, space, time, motion; and in a word, quantity of all kinds, the object of the only science that can fairly pretend to any certainty or evidence. When these topics are displayed in their full light, as they are by some philosophers and almost all divines; who can retain such confidence in this frail faculty of reason as to pay any regard to its determinations in points so sublime, so abstruse, so remote from common life and experience? When the coherence of the parts of a stone, or even that composition of parts which renders it extended; when these familiar objects, I say, are so inexplicable, and contain circumstances so repugnant and contradictory; with what assurance can we decide concerning the origin of worlds, or trace their history from eternity to eternity?

Your precaution of teaching your children religious devotion early, says PHILO, is certainly very reasonable. It is no more than necessary in this irreverent and irreligious age. But what I chiefly admire in your educational plan is how you turn philosophy and learning to your advantage. By encouraging pride and self-confidence, philosophy and learning have commonly undermined religion in every age. Ordinary people, unfamiliar with science and deep inquiry, generally feel complete contempt for philosophy when they see scholars’ endless disputes. As a result, they cling more firmly to the main religious teachings they have learned. Those who study and investigate a little find many apparent signs of evidence in the newest and strangest doctrines. They think nothing is too difficult for human reason. Presumptuously breaking through every barrier, they violate the temple’s innermost sanctuaries. But I hope CLEANTHES will agree with me on one point. Once we have given up ignorance, the surest remedy, one way still remains to prevent this irreverent freedom. Let us develop and cultivate DEMEA’s principles. Let us fully recognize the weakness, blindness, and narrow limits of human reason. Let us properly consider reason’s uncertainty and endless conflicts, even in everyday matters and practical affairs. Let us examine the errors and deceptions of our own senses. Let us confront the insurmountable difficulties surrounding the basic principles of every system. Let us examine the contradictions within the very ideas of matter, cause and effect, extension, space, time, and motion. In short, let us examine such contradictions in every kind of quantity. Quantity is the subject of the only science that can fairly claim any certainty or clear evidence. Some philosophers and almost all theologians present these problems in their full force. When these problems are fully exposed, who can retain such confidence in our fragile power of reason? Who could then give any weight to reason’s judgments on matters so lofty, obscure, and remote from everyday experience? Consider how the parts of a stone hold together, or even how their arrangement gives the stone spatial dimensions. These familiar things, I say, are so inexplicable, and involve features so incompatible and contradictory. How confidently, then, can we judge the origin of worlds, or trace their history from eternity to eternity?

While PHILO pronounced these words, I could observe a smile in the countenance both of DEMEA and CLEANTHES. That of DEMEA seemed to imply an unreserved satisfaction in the doctrines delivered: But, in CLEANTHES's features, I could distinguish an air of finesse; as if he perceived some raillery or artificial malice in the reasonings of PHILO.

While PHILO spoke these words, I noticed a smile on the faces of both DEMEA and CLEANTHES. DEMEA's smile seemed to show complete satisfaction with the views expressed. But I could detect a knowing look in CLEANTHES's face. It was as if he sensed some mockery or calculated malice in PHILO's arguments.

You propose then, PHILO, said CLEANTHES, to erect religious faith on philosophical scepticism; and you think, that if certainty or evidence be expelled from every other subject of inquiry, it will all retire to these theological doctrines, and there acquire a superior force and authority. Whether your scepticism be as absolute and sincere as you pretend, we shall learn by and by, when the company breaks up: We shall then see, whether you go out at the door or the window; and whether you really doubt if your body has gravity, or can be injured by its fall; according to popular opinion, derived from our fallacious senses, and more fallacious experience. And this consideration, DEMEA, may, I think, fairly serve to abate our ill-will to this humorous sect of the sceptics. If they be thoroughly in earnest, they will not long trouble the world with their doubts, cavils, and disputes: If they be only in jest, they are, perhaps, bad raillers; but can never be very dangerous, either to the state, to philosophy, or to religion.

So, PHILO, said CLEANTHES, you propose to build religious faith on philosophical skepticism. You think that if certainty or evidence is driven from every other field of inquiry, all of it will retreat into these theological doctrines. There, certainty and evidence will gain greater force and authority. We will soon learn whether your skepticism is as complete and sincere as you claim, when the gathering ends. Then we will see whether you leave by the door or the window. We will see whether you really doubt that your body has weight or can be hurt by a fall. That, at least, is the common view, drawn from our unreliable senses and our still more unreliable experience. And this thought, DEMEA, may, I think, reasonably lessen our hostility toward this amusing sect of skeptics. If they are entirely serious, they will not trouble the world for long with their doubts, quibbles, and disputes. If they are only joking, they are perhaps poor jokers. But they can never be very dangerous to the state, philosophy, or religion.

In reality, PHILO, continued he, it seems certain, that though a man, in a flush of humour, after intense reflection on the many contradictions and imperfections of human reason, may entirely renounce all belief and opinion, it is impossible for him to persevere in this total scepticism, or make it appear in his conduct for a few hours. External objects press in upon him; passions solicit him; his philosophical melancholy dissipates; and even the utmost violence upon his own temper will not be able, during any time, to preserve the poor appearance of scepticism. And for what reason impose on himself such a violence? This is a point in which it will be impossible for him ever to satisfy himself, consistently with his sceptical principles. So that, upon the whole, nothing could be more ridiculous than the principles of the ancient PYRRHONIANS; if in reality they endeavoured, as is pretended, to extend, throughout, the same scepticism which they had learned from the declamations of their schools, and which they ought to have confined to them.

In fact, PHILO, he continued, one thing seems certain. A man may abandon all belief and opinion in a passing mood, though only after intense reflection on human reason’s many contradictions and flaws. But he cannot maintain this total scepticism or show it in his conduct for even a few hours. External objects force themselves on his attention. His passions urge him to act. His philosophical gloom fades. Even the greatest effort to resist his own nature cannot keep up even a poor show of scepticism for long. And why should he force himself to make such an effort? He can never give himself a satisfactory answer consistent with his sceptical principles. So, all things considered, nothing could be more ridiculous than the principles of the ancient PYRRHONIANS, if the claims about their efforts are true. They supposedly tried to apply to every part of life the same scepticism they had learned from their schools’ lectures. They should have kept that scepticism within those schools.

In this view, there appears a great resemblance between the sects of the STOICS and PYRRHONIANS, though perpetual antagonists; and both of them seem founded on this erroneous maxim, That what a man can perform sometimes, and in some dispositions, he can perform always, and in every disposition. When the mind, by Stoical reflections, is elevated into a sublime enthusiasm of virtue, and strongly smit with any species of honour or public good, the utmost bodily pain and sufferings will not prevail over such a high sense of duty; and it is possible, perhaps, by its means, even to smile and exult in the midst of tortures. If this sometimes may be the case in fact and reality, much more may a philosopher, in his school, or even in his closet, work himself up to such an enthusiasm, and support in imagination the acutest pain or most calamitous event which he can possibly conceive. But how shall he support this enthusiasm itself? The bent of his mind relaxes, and cannot be recalled at pleasure; avocations lead him astray; misfortunes attack him unawares; and the philosopher sinks by degrees into the plebeian.

Seen this way, the STOICS and PYRRHONIANS seem very similar, though they are constant opponents. Both schools seem based on the same mistaken principle. Whatever a person can do sometimes, in certain states of mind, they can do always, in every state of mind. Stoic reflections can lift the mind into an intense devotion to virtue. When someone in this state feels deeply committed to some form of honor or public good, duty can withstand suffering. Even the greatest physical pain and suffering will not overcome such a strong sense of duty. Perhaps this devotion can even make someone smile and rejoice in the midst of torture. If such devotion can sometimes exist in reality, a philosopher can much more easily stir it up in his classroom. He can do so even in his private study. In his imagination, he can endure the sharpest pain or the most disastrous event he can possibly conceive. But how can he sustain this devotion itself? His mental resolve weakens, and he cannot summon it back at will. Other concerns distract him. Misfortunes strike him without warning. And the philosopher gradually sinks to the level of an ordinary person.

I allow of your comparison between the STOICS and SKEPTICS, replied PHILO. But you may observe, at the same time, that though the mind cannot, in Stoicism, support the highest flights of philosophy, yet, even when it sinks lower, it still retains somewhat of its former disposition; and the effects of the Stoic's reasoning will appear in his conduct in common life, and through the whole tenor of his actions. The ancient schools, particularly that of ZENO, produced examples of virtue and constancy which seem astonishing to present times.

I accept your comparison between the STOICS and SKEPTICS, replied PHILO. But you may also notice that, in Stoicism, the mind cannot sustain the highest levels of philosophical thought. Yet even when the mind falls below those heights, it still keeps something of its earlier outlook. And the effects of the Stoic's reasoning will show in his everyday conduct and throughout his actions. The ancient schools, particularly the school of ZENO, produced examples of virtue and steadfastness that seem astonishing today.

In like manner, if a man has accustomed himself to sceptical considerations on the uncertainty and narrow limits of reason, he will not entirely forget them when he turns his reflection on other subjects; but in all his philosophical principles and reasoning, I dare not say in his common conduct, he will be found different from those, who either never formed any opinions in the case, or have entertained sentiments more favourable to human reason.

Similarly, suppose a man has grown used to skeptical thinking about reason’s uncertainty and narrow limits. He will not entirely forget these doubts when he turns his attention to other subjects. But all his philosophical principles and reasoning will differ from those of people who have never considered the issue. The same difference will separate him from people who have a higher opinion of human reason. I would not go so far as to say his everyday conduct will also differ.

To whatever length any one may push his speculative principles of scepticism, he must act, I own, and live, and converse, like other men; and for this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason, than the absolute necessity he lies under of so doing. If he ever carries his speculations further than this necessity constrains him, and philosophises either on natural or moral subjects, he is allured by a certain pleasure and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself after that manner. He considers besides, that every one, even in common life, is constrained to have more or less of this philosophy; that from our earliest infancy we make continual advances in forming more general principles of conduct and reasoning; that the larger experience we acquire, and the stronger reason we are endued with, we always render our principles the more general and comprehensive; and that what we call philosophy is nothing but a more regular and methodical operation of the same kind. To philosophise on such subjects, is nothing essentially different from reasoning on common life; and we may only expect greater stability, if not greater truth, from our philosophy, on account of its exacter and more scrupulous method of proceeding.

However far someone takes his skeptical theories, I admit he must act, live, and talk with others like everyone else. He needs no other reason for doing so than the absolute necessity of living that way. If he takes his thinking beyond what necessity requires and explores nature or morality, pleasure and satisfaction draw him on. He finds pleasure and satisfaction in thinking about such subjects. He also considers that everyone, even in everyday life, must engage in some degree of philosophical thinking. From earliest childhood, we continually develop more general principles for acting and reasoning. As we gain more experience and our reasoning grows stronger, we always make our principles broader and more comprehensive. What we call philosophy is simply the same process carried out more systematically and methodically. Philosophical thinking about such subjects is not essentially different from reasoning about everyday life. We may only expect greater consistency, if not greater truth, from philosophy because its methods are more precise and careful.

But when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of the surrounding bodies: when we carry our speculations into the two eternities, before and after the present state of things; into the creation and formation of the universe; the existence and properties of spirits; the powers and operations of one universal Spirit existing without beginning and without end; omnipotent, omniscient, immutable, infinite, and incomprehensible: We must be far removed from the smallest tendency to scepticism not to be apprehensive, that we have here got quite beyond the reach of our faculties. So long as we confine our speculations to trade, or morals, or politics, or criticism, we make appeals, every moment, to common sense and experience, which strengthen our philosophical conclusions, and remove, at least in part, the suspicion which we so justly entertain with regard to every reasoning that is very subtle and refined. But, in theological reasonings, we have not this advantage; while, at the same time, we are employed upon objects, which, we must be sensible, are too large for our grasp, and of all others, require most to be familiarised to our apprehension. We are like foreigners in a strange country, to whom every thing must seem suspicious, and who are in danger every moment of transgressing against the laws and customs of the people with whom they live and converse. We know not how far we ought to trust our vulgar methods of reasoning in such a subject; since, even in common life, and in that province which is peculiarly appropriated to them, we cannot account for them, and are entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing them.

But consider what happens when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of the physical objects around us. We turn our thoughts to the two eternities, before and after the present state of things. We consider the creation and formation of the universe, and the existence and properties of spirits. We consider the powers and actions of one universal Spirit, existing without beginning or end. This Spirit is all-powerful, all-knowing, unchanging, infinite, and beyond our understanding. We would need to lack even the slightest tendency toward skepticism not to fear we have exceeded our mental powers. As long as we confine our thinking to trade, morality, politics, or criticism, we constantly appeal to common sense and experience. These appeals strengthen our philosophical conclusions. They also partly ease our doubts about any highly subtle and abstract reasoning, doubts we are quite right to have. But in theological reasoning, we have no such advantage. At the same time, we must recognize that the subjects we consider are too vast for our understanding. More than any others, these subjects need to be made familiar to us. We are like foreigners in a strange country, where everything must seem suspicious. At every moment, these foreigners risk breaking the laws and customs of the people they live and speak with. We do not know how far to trust our ordinary methods of reasoning on such a subject. For even in everyday life, where these methods properly belong, we cannot explain them. In using these methods, we are guided entirely by a kind of instinct or necessity.

All sceptics pretend, that, if reason be considered in an abstract view, it furnishes invincible arguments against itself; and that we could never retain any conviction or assurance, on any subject, were not the sceptical reasonings so refined and subtle, that they are not able to counterpoise the more solid and more natural arguments derived from the senses and experience. But it is evident, whenever our arguments lose this advantage, and run wide of common life, that the most refined scepticism comes to be upon a footing with them, and is able to oppose and counterbalance them. The one has no more weight than the other. The mind must remain in suspense between them; and it is that very suspense or balance, which is the triumph of scepticism.

All sceptics claim that reason, considered in the abstract, provides unbeatable arguments against itself. They also claim that we could never remain convinced or certain about anything, except for one fact. Sceptical arguments are too subtle and complex to outweigh the stronger, more natural arguments drawn from our senses and experience. But clearly, whenever our arguments lose this advantage and stray far from everyday life, even the subtlest scepticism becomes their equal. Sceptical arguments can then oppose and counterbalance our arguments. Neither side carries more weight than the other. The mind must remain undecided between them. And this very uncertainty, this balance between opposing arguments, is the triumph of scepticism.

But I observe, says CLEANTHES, with regard to you, PHILO, and all speculative sceptics, that your doctrine and practice are as much at variance in the most abstruse points of theory as in the conduct of common life. Wherever evidence discovers itself, you adhere to it, notwithstanding your pretended scepticism; and I can observe, too, some of your sect to be as decisive as those who make greater professions of certainty and assurance. In reality, would not a man be ridiculous, who pretended to reject NEWTON's explication of the wonderful phenomenon of the rainbow, because that explication gives a minute anatomy of the rays of light; a subject, forsooth, too refined for human comprehension? And what would you say to one, who, having nothing particular to object to the arguments of COPERNICUS and GALILEO for the motion of the earth, should withhold his assent, on that general principle, that these subjects were too magnificent and remote to be explained by the narrow and fallacious reason of mankind?

But I notice, says CLEANTHES, that you, PHILO, and all philosophical sceptics contradict your teachings in practice. You do so just as much in the most abstract theories as in everyday life. Wherever evidence appears, you accept it, despite your supposed scepticism. I also notice that some of your school are as definite as people who claim much greater certainty and confidence. Really, wouldn’t someone be ridiculous to reject NEWTON’s explanation of the remarkable phenomenon of the rainbow for the following reason? Because his explanation analyzes light rays in minute detail, a subject supposedly too subtle for human understanding! And what would you say to someone who had no specific objection to COPERNICUS and GALILEO’s arguments for the earth’s motion? Suppose he still refused to accept those arguments on a general principle. He held that such subjects were too vast and remote for humanity’s limited and unreliable reason to explain.

There is indeed a kind of brutish and ignorant scepticism, as you well observed, which gives the vulgar a general prejudice against what they do not easily understand, and makes them reject every principle which requires elaborate reasoning to prove and establish it. This species of scepticism is fatal to knowledge, not to religion; since we find, that those who make greatest profession of it, give often their assent, not only to the great truths of Theism and natural theology, but even to the most absurd tenets which a traditional superstition has recommended to them. They firmly believe in witches, though they will not believe nor attend to the most simple proposition of Euclid. But the refined and philosophical sceptics fall into an inconsistence of an opposite nature. They push their researches into the most abstruse corners of science; and their assent attends them in every step, proportioned to the evidence which they meet with. They are even obliged to acknowledge, that the most abstruse and remote objects are those which are best explained by philosophy. Light is in reality anatomised. The true system of the heavenly bodies is discovered and ascertained. But the nourishment of bodies by food is still an inexplicable mystery. The cohesion of the parts of matter is still incomprehensible. These sceptics, therefore, are obliged, in every question, to consider each particular evidence apart, and proportion their assent to the precise degree of evidence which occurs. This is their practice in all natural, mathematical, moral, and political science. And why not the same, I ask, in the theological and religious? Why must conclusions of this nature be alone rejected on the general presumption of the insufficiency of human reason, without any particular discussion of the evidence? Is not such an unequal conduct a plain proof of prejudice and passion?

There is indeed a kind of brutish, ignorant skepticism, as you rightly observed. It makes ordinary people generally prejudiced against anything they cannot easily understand. It also makes them reject every principle that requires complex reasoning to prove and establish. This kind of skepticism is fatal to knowledge, not to religion. Those who most strongly profess it often accept not only the great truths of Theism and natural theology. They even accept the most absurd beliefs handed down by traditional superstition. They firmly believe in witches, though they will neither believe nor pay attention to the simplest proposition of Euclid. But sophisticated, philosophical skeptics fall into the opposite inconsistency. They pursue their investigations into the most obscure areas of science. At every step, they accept conclusions in proportion to the evidence they find. They must even admit that philosophy best explains the most obscure and remote objects of study. Light has actually been analyzed into its parts. The true system of the heavenly bodies has been discovered and established. But how food nourishes bodies remains an unexplained mystery. How the parts of matter hold together remains beyond our understanding. These skeptics must therefore consider each piece of evidence separately in every question. They must base their degree of belief on the exact strength of the evidence available. They follow this practice throughout the natural, mathematical, moral, and political sciences. And why not follow the same practice, I ask, in theology and religion? Why must religious conclusions alone be rejected on the general assumption that human reason is inadequate? Why reject them without examining the specific evidence? Is such an inconsistent approach not clear proof of prejudice and emotion?

Our senses, you say, are fallacious; our understanding erroneous; our ideas, even of the most familiar objects, extension, duration, motion, full of absurdities and contradictions. You defy me to solve the difficulties, or reconcile the repugnancies which you discover in them. I have not capacity for so great an undertaking: I have not leisure for it: I perceive it to be superfluous. Your own conduct, in every circumstance, refutes your principles, and shows the firmest reliance on all the received maxims of science, morals, prudence, and behaviour.

You say our senses are unreliable and our understanding prone to error. Even our ideas of the most familiar things, such as space, time, and motion, are full of absurdities and contradictions. You challenge me to solve the difficulties or reconcile the contradictions you find in those ideas. I lack the ability to take on such a great task. I have no time for the task, and I see no need for it. Your own conduct, in every situation, disproves your principles. Your conduct shows the strongest reliance on all the accepted principles of science, morality, practical judgment, and behavior.

I shall never assent to so harsh an opinion as that of a celebrated writer [L'Arte de penser], who says, that the Sceptics are not a sect of philosophers: They are only a sect of liars. I may, however, affirm (I hope without offence), that they are a sect of jesters or raillers. But for my part, whenever I find myself disposed to mirth and amusement, I shall certainly choose my entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse nature. A comedy, a novel, or at most a history, seems a more natural recreation than such metaphysical subtleties and abstractions.

I will never accept the harsh view of a celebrated writer [L'Arte de penser]. He says the Sceptics are not a school of philosophers, but merely a group of liars. I may, however, call them a group of jokers or mockers. I hope that causes no offence. But whenever I feel like having fun, I will certainly choose something less puzzling and abstract for my entertainment. A comedy, a novel, or at most a history seems a more natural diversion than such subtle, abstract metaphysical arguments.

In vain would the sceptic make a distinction between science and common life, or between one science and another. The arguments employed in all, if just, are of a similar nature, and contain the same force and evidence. Or if there be any difference among them, the advantage lies entirely on the side of theology and natural religion. Many principles of mechanics are founded on very abstruse reasoning; yet no man who has any pretensions to science, even no speculative sceptic, pretends to entertain the least doubt with regard to them. The COPERNICAN system contains the most surprising paradox, and the most contrary to our natural conceptions, to appearances, and to our very senses: yet even monks and inquisitors are now constrained to withdraw their opposition to it. And shall PHILO, a man of so liberal a genius and extensive knowledge, entertain any general undistinguished scruples with regard to the religious hypothesis, which is founded on the simplest and most obvious arguments, and, unless it meets with artificial obstacles, has such easy access and admission into the mind of man?

A sceptic would gain nothing by distinguishing science from everyday life, or one science from another. If sound, the arguments used in all these areas are similar in nature and carry equal force and evidence. Or if there is any difference, the advantage lies entirely with theology and natural religion. Many principles of mechanics rest on highly complex reasoning. Yet no one claiming any scientific knowledge, not even a philosophical sceptic, claims to have the slightest doubt about them. The COPERNICAN system presents a most astonishing paradox. It runs directly against our natural ideas, against appearances, and against our very senses. Yet even monks and inquisitors are now forced to abandon their opposition to the system. And should PHILO, with his open mind and extensive knowledge, have sweeping, indiscriminate doubts about the religious hypothesis? That hypothesis rests on the simplest and most obvious arguments. And unless artificial obstacles stand in its way, the human mind accepts it with such ease.

And here we may observe, continued he, turning himself towards DEMEA, a pretty curious circumstance in the history of the sciences. After the union of philosophy with the popular religion, upon the first establishment of Christianity, nothing was more usual, among all religious teachers, than declamations against reason, against the senses, against every principle derived merely from human research and inquiry. All the topics of the ancient academics were adopted by the fathers; and thence propagated for several ages in every school and pulpit throughout Christendom. The Reformers embraced the same principles of reasoning, or rather declamation; and all panegyrics on the excellency of faith, were sure to be interlarded with some severe strokes of satire against natural reason. A celebrated prelate [Monsr. Huet] too, of the Romish communion, a man of the most extensive learning, who wrote a demonstration of Christianity, has also composed a treatise, which contains all the cavils of the boldest and most determined PYRRHONISM. LOCKE seems to have been the first Christian who ventured openly to assert, that faith was nothing but a species of reason; that religion was only a branch of philosophy; and that a chain of arguments, similar to that which established any truth in morals, politics, or physics, was always employed in discovering all the principles of theology, natural and revealed. The ill use which BAYLE and other libertines made of the philosophical scepticism of the fathers and first reformers, still further propagated the judicious sentiment of Mr. LOCKE: And it is now in a manner avowed, by all pretenders to reasoning and philosophy, that Atheist and Sceptic are almost synonymous. And as it is certain that no man is in earnest when he professes the latter principle, I would fain hope that there are as few who seriously maintain the former.

And here, he continued, turning towards DEMEA, we may notice a rather curious fact in the history of learning. When Christianity was first established, philosophy joined forces with popular religion. After that union, nothing was more common among all religious teachers than attacks on reason and the senses. They also attacked every principle based solely on human research and inquiry. The Church Fathers adopted all the arguments of the ancient Academic sceptics. Those arguments then spread for several centuries through every school and pulpit throughout Christendom. The Reformers embraced the same methods of reasoning, or rather, of denunciation. And every tribute to the excellence of faith was sure to include some harsh ridicule of natural reason. A celebrated bishop [Monsr. Huet] of the Roman Catholic Church also illustrates this tendency. A man of exceptionally wide learning, he wrote a work claiming to demonstrate the truth of Christianity. He also wrote a treatise containing all the objections raised by the boldest and most committed forms of PYRRHONISM. LOCKE seems to have been the first Christian who dared to state openly that faith was simply a kind of reason. He argued that religion was only a branch of philosophy. Discovering all the principles of theology, both natural and revealed, always involved a chain of arguments. Those arguments resembled the arguments used to establish any truth in morality, politics, or physics. BAYLE and other freethinkers misused the philosophical scepticism of the Church Fathers and the early Reformers. Their misuse spread Mr. LOCKE’s sensible view still further. And now, virtually everyone who claims to reason and philosophize openly admits that Atheist and Sceptic mean almost the same thing. And since no one sincerely means it when professing scepticism, I would like to hope that equally few sincerely maintain atheism.

Don't you remember, said PHILO, the excellent saying of LORD BACON on this head? That a little philosophy, replied CLEANTHES, makes a man an Atheist: A great deal converts him to religion. That is a very judicious remark too, said PHILO. But what I have in my eye is another passage, where, having mentioned DAVID's fool, who said in his heart there is no God, this great philosopher observes, that the Atheists nowadays have a double share of folly; for they are not contented to say in their hearts there is no God, but they also utter that impiety with their lips, and are thereby guilty of multiplied indiscretion and imprudence. Such people, though they were ever so much in earnest, cannot, methinks, be very formidable.

Don’t you remember LORD BACON’s excellent saying on this subject? asked PHILO. A little philosophy makes a man an atheist, replied CLEANTHES. A great deal brings him back to religion. That is a very wise observation too, said PHILO. But I have another passage in mind. In that passage, this great philosopher mentions DAVID’s fool, who said in his heart that there is no God. BACON then observes that atheists today are twice as foolish. For atheists are not content to say in their hearts that there is no God. They also speak that impiety aloud, making themselves guilty of even greater indiscretion and recklessness. However sincere such people may be, I think they cannot be very formidable.

But though you should rank me in this class of fools, I cannot forbear communicating a remark that occurs to me, from the history of the religious and irreligious scepticism with which you have entertained us. It appears to me, that there are strong symptoms of priestcraft in the whole progress of this affair. During ignorant ages, such as those which followed the dissolution of the ancient schools, the priests perceived, that Atheism, Deism, or heresy of any kind, could only proceed from the presumptuous questioning of received opinions, and from a belief that human reason was equal to every thing. Education had then a mighty influence over the minds of men, and was almost equal in force to those suggestions of the senses and common understanding, by which the most determined sceptic must allow himself to be governed. But at present, when the influence of education is much diminished, and men, from a more open commerce of the world, have learned to compare the popular principles of different nations and ages, our sagacious divines have changed their whole system of philosophy, and talk the language of STOICS, PLATONISTS, and PERIPATETICS, not that of PYRRHONIANS and ACADEMICS. If we distrust human reason, we have now no other principle to lead us into religion. Thus, sceptics in one age, dogmatists in another; whichever system best suits the purpose of these reverend gentlemen, in giving them an ascendant over mankind, they are sure to make it their favourite principle, and established tenet.

But even if you count me among these fools, I cannot help sharing a thought. Your account of religious and irreligious scepticism has brought it to mind. I see strong signs of priestly manipulation throughout this whole history. In ignorant ages, such as those following the collapse of the ancient schools, priests recognized something. Atheism, Deism, or heresy of any kind could arise only from presumptuously questioning accepted opinions and trusting human reason completely. Education then had a powerful hold over people’s minds. Its influence was almost as strong as the guidance of the senses and common sense. Even the most determined sceptic must allow himself to follow that guidance. But today, education has much less influence. Through more open contact with the world, people have learned to compare the common beliefs of different nations and ages. So our shrewd theologians have changed their entire philosophical system. They now speak the language of STOICS, PLATONISTS, and PERIPATETICS, not of PYRRHONIANS and ACADEMICS. If we distrust human reason, we now have no other principle to guide us into religion. So these reverend gentlemen are sceptics in one age and dogmatists in another. Whatever system best serves their purpose of gaining power over humanity, they are sure to make it their favorite principle. They are equally sure to make that system an established doctrine.

It is very natural, said CLEANTHES, for men to embrace those principles, by which they find they can best defend their doctrines; nor need we have any recourse to priestcraft to account for so reasonable an expedient. And, surely nothing can afford a stronger presumption, that any set of principles are true, and ought to be embraced, than to observe that they tend to the confirmation of true religion, and serve to confound the cavils of Atheists, Libertines, and Freethinkers of all denominations.

It is very natural, said CLEANTHES, for people to adopt the principles they find best defend their doctrines. We need not blame manipulation by priests to explain such a reasonable strategy. And surely nothing gives stronger grounds for believing a set of principles is true and should be accepted than this: those principles support true religion and refute the petty objections of Atheists, Libertines, and Freethinkers of every kind.