it have the glory of being liberal; modestly was the art of concealing our vanity; civility, but an affected preference of other men before ourselves, to conceal how much we value ourselves, above all the world; bashfulness, but an affected silence in those things, which lusts make men think of with pleasure; benevolence or the desire of obliging other men, but a secret desire of serving ourselves, by getting them to befriend us at other times; gratitude, but an impatience to acquit ourselves of an obligation, with a shamefacedness. for having been too long beholden to others, for some favor received. So that all these pretended virtues, in general, have only been so many guards made use of by self-love, to prevent our darling and secret vices from appearing outwardly. All these are no evidences, what may be done towards the removal of corrupt inclinations. Nor indeed can nature's light satisfy us that it is practicable. Can it shew us the man that has done it? This were somewhat to the purpose, could he be named. But this cannot be. Will it tell us that we have a power to do it? But this is somewhat that we see and find by experience, the strongest and most convincing of all arguments, not to be true. We find we may restrain or forbear some outward actions, but we have no experience of a power to lay aside or divest ourselves of inclinations so deeply rooted. Besides, they, who talk of this power, whereof others have no experience, are liable to be questioned upon several things which they cannot fairly or satisfyingly answer. Why do not they more than others who find it not, but complain of the want of this power, shew that those inclinations are eradicated which they own should be laid aside, which they assert they have a power to lay aside, and which they say they have been long trying to overcome? The world will be forward to judge, at least, the thinking part of mankind will be so, that they are rather misled by some fond speculations to judge they have a power that they really want, than that this practical proof should fail, which seems scarce capable of an answer.

Now will men be effectually engaged in a work so difficult, which they are never like to bring to an issue? Will they not rather choose to yield to the conqueror than engage in a war that must last while they last, and that without prospect of conquest and being masters in the end? Yea, have they not done so? Who will be induced to such an undertaking without encouragement?

3. If this is practicable, yet it must be owned extremely difficult, and what men will not easily be engaged in. Inclinations are deeply rooted, strengthened by custom, and in most heightened by temptations, whereof the world is full. Now if natural religion is supposed able to persuade to such an undertaking, it must be

well furnished with strong motives and inducements. Whence shall those be fetched? From the rewards of virtue, and the punishment of vice on the other side of time? We heard how short the accounts of nature's light of these are. The impressions of these were always more deeply rooted in the vulgar, than in the philosophers; yet they had no such effect. It is plain, outward encouragements do not attend the practice of virtue. There remains only then the beauty of virtue itself. Of this the philosophers have talked wonderful things. But the mischief of it is, it was but talk. When they missed other things, they could, even with their dying breath, as Brutus, one of the adepti,* is said to have done, call virtue but an empty name. They lived otherwise than they talked, the best of them not excepted. It is excellently said by the ingenious Claudian,

Ipsa quidem virtus pretium sibi solaque late
Fortunæ secura nitet, nec fascibus ullis
Erigitur, plausuve petit clarescere vulgi.
Nil opis externi cupiens, nil indignæ laudis,
Divitiis animosa suis, immotaque cunctis
Casibus, ex alta mortalia despicit arce.*

This is indeed very prettily said; but this is all. Men may please themselves with refined speculations of the excellency of virtue but it is not this alone that can sway corrupt man. It is not the question what virtue really is? But what men think of it, and can be made to see in it? And it is certain, all the philosophers could never persuade the world of it; and no wonder, for they could not persuade themselves. Mankind have had other thoughts, and it must be other views than nature can give, that will beat them out of this. Another poet plainly opens the case :

Turpe quidem dictu (sed si modo vera fatemur)
Vulgus amicitias utilitate probat :

Cura quid expediat prior est, quam quid sit honestum,

Et cum fortuna statque caditque fides.

Nec facile invenies multis in millibus unum,

Virtutem pretium qui putat esse suum.

Ipse decor recti, facti si præmia desint,
Non movet, & gratis pœnitet esse probum.+

* "Perfect."

De Consulatu Mallii Theodoriabi Initio.-" Virtue indeed is its own re"ward, and it alone shines far and wide, regardless of fortune; nor is it elevated by any power, or desires to become famous by the applause of the croud, having no desire of outward help, nor any need of praise. Bold in "its own riches, and immoveable by all accidents, it looks down on mortal things from a high eminence."

Ovid. de Ponto, Lib. 2. Eleg. 3.-" It is indeed scandalous to relate, but "if we will only confess the truth, the multitude approves of friendship only "for interest; the case of what is profitable is prior to the case of what is honorable, and their fidelity stands or falls with fortune; nor will you easi

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Here is the true state of the case. But to come closely up to the point; this beauty of virtue is not discernible till we have made some progress in it. While corrupt inclinations are in their vigor in the heart, such a beauty is not easily seen. 2. It is a beauty too fine to be perceived by vulgar eyes, or indeed by any, without deeper and nicer consideration, than most of men can go to the charge of. 3. Alone it is not sufficient to support and carry on in so hazardous an undertaking. This advantage is not to be felt till the virtue be obtained. It is a question whether it will be obtained. So that it is plain, natural religion wants motives to engage effectually to this.

4. It is still further considerable to this purpose, that these vicious inclinations are strong, if not strongest, in those who have neither capacity to dive into those few refined considerations, which enforce the practice of virtue, and the subduing of corruption, nor indeed to understand them when proposed, nor have they time or leisure to attend to the discourses of the philosophers where they are taught, or money to purchase them. And natural religion provides no teachers, at least if we take it according to the accounts that we get from the Deists, who bear such a terrible grudge to a standing ministry, and have so oft in their mouths that reflection of Dryden, "Priests of all religions are the same." Now what a sad case are poor men in, who are solicited by outward temptations and pushed on by strong inclinations, and have so small assistance given them by natural religion.

5. As motives are wanting, so the work is not easily carried on, the way of management is difficult, and the directions given us by the philosophers or others, are exceedingly unsatisfactory. Some of them are impossible, such as the entire laying aside our affections; others of them ridiculous, such as that direction abovementioned out of Plato,, for the purification of our souls by music. and mathematics, &c. Others, and indeed most of them, only tell us what we are to do, bid us do the thing, but tell us not how to set about it; some of them only tell us how to conceal inward corruption, or divert it. And, perhaps, I should not say amiss, if I should say, that what the best moral philosophers either aimed at or attained, was only to dam in corruption on one side, to let it run out at another; or to make that run in a secret channel, which run open before. It were long to examine their several directions. The learned Herbert gives us a summary of them, which I shall here present the reader with. 1. We should suppress all our vitious affections. This is but to advise the thing, without telling us how it is to be done. 2. That we expiate our sins by deep re

"ly find one among many thousands, who thinks that virtue is its own reward. "The beauty of virtue by itself does not move them, if rewards are wanting, "and they grudge to be honest for nothing."

pentance, and by the instituted sacrifices or rites. This is only a remedy for guilt, and an ill one too, as has been cleared above. 3. That we avoid the society of evil men. But then we must go out of the world, or at least out of the heathen world. 4. That we use the company of good men. But where shall we find them amongst those, who have no more but natural religion? 5. That we inquire carefully what is to be done, and what is not to be done; but the question is, when we know it, How shall we get. the one avoided and the other followed, considering we have a strong aversion to good, and inclination to evil? 6. That our sins, which arise from human frailty, should be corrected or laid aside. But still the question occurs, How is this to be done? 7. That we should use supplications and prayers to the gods, as the priests prescribe. But for what, and upon what grounds? And what will this help the matter?

6. To conclude this argument, the universal experience of mankind bears testimony to the weakness of natural religion. Nothing in this matter was ever done, or done to purpose, save where revelation prevailed. Should we narrowly scan the lives, not of the vulgar, but of the Heathen philosophers, as Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Plutarch, Cato and Brutus, we might easily pull off the mask, and discover how little it was that they attained in this matter, or rather nothing at all. Yea, even a Socrates himself would not be able to stand before an impartial inquirer. I believe he could not give a good account of his amours, and those practical instructions, which he is said to have given his scholar Alcibiades. He repressed well the vanity and pride of other philosophers: but perhaps, nay I need not say perhaps, with greater pride; yea even his death, the most applauded part of his whole conduct, might be unmasked, and deprived of the unjust eulogies, which some have made on it, who, it may be, never read the accounts we have of it, or seriously considered his carriage on that occasion. It is true, he was unjustly put to death, and behaved very resolutely, but whether he fell not a sacrifice to his own pride, as much as to the malice of his enemies, may be questioned. This I say not to detract from those great men, whom I admire, considering their state; but to shew, that they went not so high as some would have us believe.

In fine, till revealed religion appeared, nothing was seen in the world, of true piety or religion, of mortification of sin, or holiness of life. The natural notices could never make one pious, or indeed moral. Whereas Christianity, upon its first appearance, in a moment, as it were, made millions so. And they who have rejected it, and set up for Heathenism again, under the new, but injurious name of Deism, are no friends to holiness of life, piety towards God, sobriety in their own way, nor righteousness among

men.

What mighty saints do Blount, Hobbes, Spinoza, Uriel, Accosta and others make,?

I designed to have proceeded further, to demonstrate the insufficiency of natural religion to answer the ends of religion, by the consideration of its insufficiency to support under the troubles of life, or amongst the terrors of death; but upon second thoughts I judged, after what has been said, it was not needful. Besides, if any look but at it, they may easily see it utterly insufficient to this purpose, as it is indeed to the other great ends of religion.

If the well-founded prospect of future rewards, and a clear knowledge of the nature and excellency of things eternal and not seen, the present intimations of divine love, in cross dispensations, the supports of divine powerful grace under them, the usefulness of those calamities, by virtue of divine ordination and concurrent influence of the divine Spirit, verified in the experience of the sufferers, are laid aside, as natural religion does, which knows nothing of these, all that men can say to comfort under affliction, or arm against the horrors of death, is but an unprofitable amusement, or at least, like rattles and other toys we give to children, that do not in the least ease them of the pain they are under; but do for a little, divert the mind, while they are looked at; but as soon as the first impression is over, which those new toys make on the mind, the sense of pain recurs again, with that redoubled force, which it always has, when it immediately succeeds either ease or want of sense. And if it is really violent, these things will not avail, no not to divert trouble for a little. It is but a sorry comfort to tell me, that others are troubled as well as I, or worse; that death, which I fear, will end it; that I must bear it; that I have other enjoyments, which yet present pain will not allow me to relish. Yet such are the best consolations that natural religion affords.

CHAP. XII.

Wherein the Proof of the Insufficiency of Natural Religion is concluded from a general View of the Experience of the World.

AS a conclusion to, and illustration of what has hitherto been discoursed, for demonstrating the insufficiency of natural religion, I shall here offer a six-fold view of the experience of the world in general, without descending to particular instances, which have in part been touched at, and offered before, and are every where to be met with.