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632

Estimate of the Philosophical Character of Hobbes.

cannot be withdrawn from those to
whom it has been committed; nor
can they be punished for misgovern-
ment. The interpretation of the laws
is to be sought, not from the com-
ments of philosophers, but from the
authority of the ruler; otherwise
society would every moment be in
danger of resolving itself into the dis-
cordant elements of which it was at
first composed. The will of the magis-
trate, therefore, is to be regarded as
the ultimate standard of right and
wrong, and his voice to be listened to
by e
every citizen as the voice of con-
science.

Not many years afterwards, Hobbes pushed the argument for the absolute power of princes still further, in a work to which he gave the name of Leviathan. Under this appellation he means the body politic; insinuating, that man is an utitameable beast of prey, and that government is the strong chain by which he is kept from mischief. The fundamental principles here maintained are the same as in the book De Cive; but as it inveighs more particularly against ccclesiastical tyranny, with the view of subjecting the consciences of men to the civil authority, it lost the author the favour of some powerful protectors he had hitherto enjoyed among the English divines who attended Charles II. in France; and he even found it convenient to quit that king dom, and to return to England, where Crotawell (to whose government his political tenets were now as favourable as they were meant to be to the royal claims) suffered him to remain unmolested. The same circumstances operated to his disadvantage after the Restoration, and obliged the king, who always retained for him a very strong attachment, to confer his mark's of favour on him with the utmost reserve and circumspection.

The details which I have entered into, with respect to the history of Hobbes's political writings, will be found, by those who may peruse them, to throw much light on the author's reasonings. Indeed, it is only by thus considering them in their connexion with the circumstances of the times, and the fortunes of the writer, that a just notion can be formed of their spirit and tendency,

In 1651.

The ethical principles of Hobbes are so completely interwoven with his political system, that all which has been said of the one may be applied to the other. It is very remarkable, that Descartes should have thought so highly of the former, as to pronounce Hobbies to be " a much greater master of morality than of metaphysics;" a judgment which is of itself sufficient to mark the very low state of ethical science in France about the middle of the seventeenth century. Mr. Adɗison, on the other hand, gives a decided preference (among all the books written by Hobbes) to his Treatise on Human Nature; and to his opinion on this point I most implicitly subscribe; including, however, in the same com mendation, some of his other philosophical Essays on similar topics. They are the only part of his works which it is possible now to read with any interest; and they every where evince in their author, even when he thinks most unsoundly himself, that power of setting his reader a thinking, which is one of the most unequivocal marks of original genius. They have plainly been studied with the utmost care both by Locke and Hume. To the former they have suggested some of his most important observations on the Association of Ideas, as well as much of the sophistry displayed in the first book of his Essay on the Origin of our Knowledge, and on the factitious nature of our moral principles; to the latter (among a variety of hints of less consequence), his theory concerning the nature of those established connexions among physical events, which it is the business of the natural philosopher to ascertain, and the

The same doctrine, concerning the proper object of natural philosophy (commonly ascribed to Mr. Hume, both by his followers and by his opponents), is to be found in various writers contemporary with Hobbes. It is stated with uncom mon precision and clearness, in a book entitled Scepsis Scientifica, or Confessed Ignorance the way to Science; by Joseph Glanvill (printed in 1665). The whole work is strongly marked with the features of an acute, an original, and (in matters of science) a somewhat sceptical genius; and, when compared with the treatise on witchcraft, by the same author, adds another proof to those already mentioned, of the possible union of the highest intel•

1

Remarkable Providence in the Life of Crellius.

substance of his argument against the
scholastic doctrine of general concep-
tions. It is from the works of Hobbes,
too, that our later Necessitarians have
borrowed the most formidable of those
weapons with which they have com-
bated the doctrine of moral liberty;
and from the same source has been
derived the leading idea which runs
through the philological materialism
of Mr. Horne Tooke. It is probable,
indeed, that this last author borrowed
it, at second hand, from a hint in
Locke's Essay; but it is repeatedly
stated by Hobbes, in the most explicit
and confident terms. Of this idea,
(than which, in point of fact, nothing
can be imagined more puerile and
unsound,) Mr. Tooke's etymologies,
when he applies them to the solution
of metaphysical questions, are little
more than an ingenious expansion,
adapted and levelled to the
hension of the multitude.

compre

The speculations of Hobbes, how ever, concerning the theory of the understanding, do not seem to have been nearly so much attended to during his own life, as some of his other doctrines, which, having a immediate reference to human affairs, were better adapted to the unsettled and revolutionary spirit of the times. It is by these doctrines, chiefly, that

шоге

his name has since become so memorable in the annals of modern literature; and although they now derive their whole interest from the extraordinary combination they exhibit of acuteness and subtlety with a dead palsy in the powers of taste and of moral sensibility, yet they will be found, on an attentive examination, to have had a far more extensive influence on the subsequent history both of political and of ethical science, than any other publication of the same period.

lectual gifts with the most degrading intellectual weaknesses.

With respect to the Scepsis Scientifica, it deserves to be noticed, that the doctrine maintained in it concerning physical causes and effects does not occur in the form of a detached observation, of the value of which the author might not have been fully aware, but is the very basis of the general argument running through all his discussions.

G33

A remarkable Example of God's Provi
dence, visible during a Journey of
Christopher Crellius. Copied (Amster-
dam, 1774,) from MS. Papers of
Samuel Crellius, und now Translated
from a Dutch Copy. The Original
Letter was written in Latin.
[Communicated to the Editor by Mr. Van-
der Kemp, of the United States of
America.]

SAMUEL CRELLIUS wishes happiness

to H. V. O.

WILL, to gratify your desire, communicate to you in writing the remarkable event, which you listened to with pleasure. When my father, Christopher Crellius, with other Uni tarians was driven from Poland in the year 1666, he became acquainted in London with a pious woman, who was instructed by John Biddle and was called Stuckey, the mother of Nathaniel Stuckey, a youth of bright hope, and mentioned by Sandius, in his Biblioth. Antitrin. page 172, but who, very prematurely, and if I am not mistaken, died in the sixteenth year of his age. This woman spoke to my father in this manner—“ You, my dear Crellius! wander now as an exile, in poverty-a widower-burthened with four children; give me two of these, a son and a daughter, in England, and I will take care of their education." My father thanked her cordially, and promised to consider it : when returned to Silesia he consulted his friends on the subject, and departed with his eldest son and daughter in the year 1605 from Breslau, through Poland, towards Dantzic, to embark from there to Holland, and so to England. This voyage to Dantzic my father undertook with his own waggon and horses. His driver was the pious Paul Sagosky, from whom I heard an account of the event in Brandenburg, Prussia, in the year 1704, when he was far advanced in age.

It was afternoon, the sun declining to the west, when my father, only twelve Polish miles from Dantzic reached a tavern, in which he resolved to tarry that night, because he saw before him a large wood, which he could not pass through by day light, and he deemed it unadvisable to enter it towards night, uncertain if he should find another house, and, moreover, was not well acquainted with the road. They stopped then at the

634

Remarkable Providence in the Life of Crellius.

tavern, and brought the waggon into a large stable, and fastened the horses to the manger. The landlady, her husband being from home, received them with civility. She gave orders to take the baggage from the waggon and bring it into the inner room, where she invited my father with the children to the table. Meanwhile the driver, when he had fed the horses, explored the spacious stable, not forgetting to scrutinize with careful anxiety every corner, because the taverns in Poland, at such a distance from cities and villages as this was, are seldom a safe refuge for travellers, and there is always apprehension of robbers and murderers. In this search he discovered in one corner of the stable a large heap of straw, of which he moved a part with a stick, when he perceived that this straw covered a large hole which emitted an offensive smell, while the straw was tainted with blood. On this he directly returned to the inner room, mentioned to my father in secret what he had seen, and saying that he doubted not that the landlord was a robber and murderer. My father left the room directly, and, having yerified the fact, ordered directly to bring the baggage again on the waggon, and harness the horses.

When the landlady observed these preparations, she shewed her surprise, and dissuaded my father to proceed on his journey through such a large wood in a cold night, with two young children, and engaged that she would endeavour to render his stay as comfortable as it was in her power; but he replied, that something very interesting had struck his mind, which rendered it impossible for him to remain there, and compelled him to proceed on. He thanked her for her civilities, went with his children into the waggon, and departed.

When they were arrived in the wood, they met the landlord driving home a load of wood, who accosted my father, "Sir," said he, "I beg of you, what moves you to enter this wood, so large and extensive, and cut in two or three cross roads, in the fall of the evening, at the approach of night; I doubt not, that you will lose the right road, and remain in the wood during night: you endanger your health and place that of these

young children in jeopardy; return rather with me to my tavern, there you may refresh yourself and your horses, spend the night comfortably, and continue your journey early in the morning. My father answered, that he was obliged to proceed on his journey, however unpleasant it was. The landlord urged his entreaties with greater importunity, and approaching my father's waggon, and taking hold of it, he renewed to dissuade a further process with a lowered brow and a grim countenance, and insisted that they should, and must return; on which my father ordered the driver to lay his whip over the horses, to disengage himself from this dangerous man, in which he succeeded.

They then proceeded on. My father, sitting in the waggon, sent up his prayers in an audible voice to his God, as was his usual custom on his travels, and recommended himself and those dear to him in this perilous situation to his providential care, in which devotion he was accompanied by the driver and his two children. Meanwhile the sun was set, an increasing darkness prevailed, they lost the road, entered a deep swamp, in which soon the waggon stuck, the horses being too fatigued to draw it out again. My father and the driver jumped from the waggon in the mud, strengthened every nerve, and animated the horses with words, and the whip, but all in vain; the waggon could not be stirred one single inch. My father became apprehensiye that he must pass the night in that dreary spot, and that he or his driver should be compelled to leave the wood next morning, and search for assistance in the nearest village, without even a prospect of success; meanwhile nothing was left him but silent ejaculations to his God.

After having covered his children as well as he could, and secured them against a rigorous cold night, he walked to a little distance from his waggon, and employed himself in sending up his prayers to his God, when he saw a man of small stature, in a grey or whitish coat, with a stick in his hand, approaching him. After mutual salutations, this man asked my father what he did there, and why he travelled in the night, and especially through such a wood? My

Remarkable Providence in the Life of Crellius.

635

they came so late, and why they proceeded on their journey after midnight, not far from daybreak? My father developed the reason in few words, and was then amicably received. When at table my father gave him a more circumstantial account, and asked him if he ever had seen or known such a man, as he who conducted him to the right road in the wood, and of whose counte nance and clothes he gave him a description: he answered, that he knew not such a man, but that he knew very well that the tavern at the other side of the wood was no safe place for travellers. After awhile, he looked accidentally to one of the corners of the room, not far from the table, where he saw some books on a bench. Taking one of these and looking into it, he saw it was a book of a Polish Unitarian. This curiosity alarmed the master of the house; but as soon as my father perceived this, he said to him, keep good courage, friend! I shall not bring you into any difficulty for that book, neither inform against you for heresy; and to give you more confidence in this assurance, I must tell you that I too am an Unitarian. Then he told him his name, which by fame was known to his landlord, who now full of joy was delighted to receive such a guest in his house. My father adored the ways of God's Providence, in bringing him to this place. This man was a linen-weaver, who, when the Unitarians were banished from Poland, remained here for several years hidden through the favour of a nobleman, the lord of his village, and liberal-ininded in religion. He would not permit my father to start next day, but persuaded him to tarry with him a few days more, and treated my father, with his children and the driver and horses, very hospitably.

father explained then to him the whole, and begged him to assist him and his driver, to try once more if with his assistance they might draw the waggon and horses from the mire of that swamp, and bring them into the right road. I will try, said he, if I can effect something; upon which he approached the wagon, and placed his stick under the fore wheels, and appeared to lift these a little; the same he did to the back wheels, and then put his hand to the waggon, to draw it with my father and the driver, out of the mire. He called at the same in stant to the horses, who, without any appearing difficulty, left the swamp and drew the waggon upon solid ground. After this the stranger conducted them into the right road, from which they had wandered, and told them to keep now that road, and neither deviate from it to the right or left, and when, said he, thou shalt arrive at the end of this wood, you will discover at some distance a light in one of the nearest houses of the village, which must you pass. In that house lives a pious man, who, although it is so late, will receive you civilly and give you lodgings for the night. My father cordially thanked this man for his assistance and instruction, and, while he had turned his face from him to put his hand in his pocket and offer him some money, he had disappeared. My father looking towards him again saw nobody; he looked all around him, and even searched awhile for him, but could not find him again: then he called with a loud voice, where art thou, my friend! return, I pray you, towards me, I have yet something to say to you; but he received no answer, neither saw his deliverer again. Surprised and astonished, he waited yet a long while, ascended his waggon, and thanked God for this favour. They arrived in safety through the wood, and saw the light in that house, of which the stranger had spoken. My father knocked softly at the window, upon which the master of the house opened it, and looked out to see who there was. My father asked if he could give him lodgings? He replied by asking how

There are more examples of a particular providence in regard to the Polish Unitarians, of which I lately told you some; and it would be a desirable thing, if all these had been directly recorded by those who could bear witness to them. Farewell.

Amsterdam, Aug. 1730.

MISCELLANEOUS COMMUNICATIONS.

Some Observations on the Sermons of Missionaries. Translated from the Spanish of P. Feyjoo, a Monk and Public Writer to the King of Spain, in the last Century. [Translated and Communicated by a Lady, S. E.D.]

I

FRIEND AND SIR,

RECEIVED your letter of the 4th of November, which I perused with singular pleasure, as in it you express an inclination to employ that portion of your time usefully, which being exempted from the duties of your profession is at your own disposal, and cannot be better employed than by continuing the sacred ministry of preaching in the neighbouring towns in the manner of a missionary. On this subject you tell me you not only hope for my approbation, but likewise that I would impart any particular observations which may occur to me on this topic, to render the employment more beneficial.

To this I answer, that in regard to my approbation there can be no doubt, when the thing proposed is such as demands from the anost indifferent not merely acquiescence but applause. I assure you if I had been endowed with necessary talents for preaching, when the king granted me an exemption from the service of the cathedral, I should in some measure have devoted myself to this ministry, alternately with that of public writer, an occupation in which I was already engaged; and in all probability my health would have been benefited by some bodily exercise being mixed with the inevitably sedentary employment of writing: however I wanted the two indispensable qualifications for missionary labours, virtue and strength of lungs, or, in other words, neither soul nor body allowed my undertaking the office of a preacher. With respect to virtue even in an exemplary degree, I know I might have acquired it, my free will co-operating with the aid of divine grace; but weakness of chest was incurable, being constitutional, and a defect I have suffered from even in my earliest years.

As to the observations you desire me to make, what can I say that you have

not already anticipated? But as I have for a long time remarked certain inconveniences which result from the discourses of particular preachers, owing to the vehemence of their zeal to correct vice, though otherwise discreet and learned men, I shall offer two reflections to your consideration on those inconveniences and their cause.

First, I have observed that in the sermons of missionaries, it frequently happens that the preacher becomes heated by exaggerating the mischief occasioned by some one particular vice to the souls of his auditors: I repeat, it is very common to magnify much beyond its real extent the prevalence of this vice amongst the inhabitants of the town where he preaches. This is highly reprehensible, and, far from conducing to reformation, tends to increase the general corruption. I will explain my position. The diseases of the soul are not less contagious than those of the body; they are even more so. It is only some particular species of bodily sicknesses that are infectious, but every malady of the soul (all moral vices) may be communicated. Two circumstances must concur to render a distemper contagious, a transmission of the breath of the sick person and a previous disposition to the disorder in the receiver. When an epidemic disease rages in any town, all the inhabitatits are not affected, either because the morbid exhalations from the sufferers do not extend to all those in health, or because there is not a dispo sition in every constitution to imbibe that kind of contagion. Now for the application of this theory. The ma ladies of the soul transfuse or communicate their malignant influence by being known: while they are coucealed they only injure the heart that engenders them, but when they are published, their noxious vapours form an atmosphere more or less extended according to the degree of publicity, sometimes reaching to a large town, sometimes to a whole province; and within this sphere their baleful influence is felt by every individual in the least disposed to inhale the poison: in short, on all whose ruling passion inclines them to the vice thus published.

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