Chapter VII: Part 7

It is very likely to be true, that since the creation there never was a time in which mankind was totally without society. If a part of it were without laws and governors, some other parts might be commonwealths. He saw there was paternal government in Adam; which he might do easily, as being no deep consideration. But in those places where there is a civil war at any time, at the same time there is neither laws, nor commonwealth, nor society, but only a temporal league, which every discontented soldier may depart from when he pleases, as being entered into by each man for his private interest, without any obligation of conscience: there are therefore almost at all times multitudes of lawless men. But this was a little too remote from his understanding to perceive. Again, he denies, that ever there was a time when one private man might lawfully kill another for his own preservation; and has forgotten that these words of his (No. II.), “this is the belief of all mankind, which we have not learned from our tutors, but is imprinted in our hearts by nature; we need not turn over any obscure books to find out this truth,” &c.; which are the words of Cicero in the defence of Milo, and translated by the Bishop to the defence of free-will, were used by Cicero to prove this very thing, that it is and hath been always lawful for one private man to kill another for his own preservation. But where he saith it is not lawful _ordinarily_, he should have shown some particular case wherein it is unlawful. For seeing it is a “belief imprinted in our hearts,” not only I, but many more are apt to think it is the law of nature, and consequently universal and eternal. And where he saith, this right of defence where it is, “is not a remainder of some greater power which they have resigned, but a privilege which God hath given them in case of extreme danger and invincible necessity,” &c.; I also say it is a privilege which God hath given them, but we differ in the manner how; which to me seems this, that God doth not account such killing sin. But the Bishop it seems would have it thus: God sends a bishop into the pulpit to tell the people it is lawful for a man to kill another man when it is necessary for the preservation of his own life; of which necessity, that is, whether it be _invincible_, or whether the danger be _extreme_, the bishop shall be the judge after the man is killed, as being a case of conscience. Against the resigning of this our general power of killing our enemies, he argues thus: “Nothing can give that which it never had; the people whilst they were a dispersed rabble, which in some odd cases might happen to be, never had justly the power of life and death, and therefore they could not give it by their election,” &c. Needs there much acuteness to understand, what number of men soever there be, though not united into government, that every one of them in particular having a right to destroy whatsoever he thinketh can annoy him, may not resign the same right, and give it to whom he please, when he thinks it conducible to his preservation? And yet it seems he has not understood it.

He takes it ill that I compare the “murdering of men with the slaughtering of brute beasts:” as also a little before, he says, “my opinion reflects too much upon the honour of mankind: the elements are for the plants, the plants for the brute beasts, and the brute beasts for man.” I pray, when a lion eats a man, and a man eats an ox, why is the ox more made for the man, than the man for the lion? “Yes,” he saith, “God gave man liberty (Gen. ix. 3) to eat the flesh of the creatures for his sustenance.” True, but the lion had the liberty to eat the flesh of man long before. But he will say, no; pretending that no man of any nation, or at any time, could lawfully eat flesh, unless he had this licence of holy Scripture, which it was impossible for most men to have. But how would he have been offended, if I had said of man as Pliny doth: “_quo nullum est animal neque miserius, neque superbius_?” The truth is, that man is a creature of greater power than other living creatures are, but his advantages do consist especially in two things: whereof one is the use of speech, by which men communicate one with another, and join their forces together, and by which also they register their thoughts that they perish not, but be reserved, and afterwards joined with other thoughts, to produce general rules for the direction of their actions. There be beasts that see better, others that hear better, and others that exceed mankind in other senses. Man excelleth beasts only in making of rules to himself, that is to say, in remembering, and in reasoning aright upon that which he remembereth. They which do so, deserve an honour above brute beasts. But they which mistaking the use of words, deceive themselves and others, introducing error, and seducing men from the truth, are so much less to be honoured than brute beasts, as error is more vile than ignorance. So that it is not merely the nature of man, that makes him worthier than other living creatures, but the knowledge that he acquires by meditation, and by the right use of reason in making good rules of his future actions. The other advantage a man hath, is the use of his hands for the making of those things which are instrumental to his well-being. But this advantage is not a matter of so great honour, but that a man may speak negligently of it without offence. And for the dominion that a man hath over beasts, he saith, “it is lost in part for the sin of man, because the strongest creatures, as lions and bears, have withdrawn their obedience; but the most profitable and useful creatures, as sheep and oxen, do in some degree retain their obedience.” I would ask the Bishop, in what consisteth the dominion of man over a lion or a bear. Is it in an obligation of promise, or of debt? That cannot be; for they have no sense of debt or duty. And I think he will not say, that they have received a command to obey him from authority. It resteth therefore that the dominion of man consists in this, that men are too hard for lions and bears, because, though a lion or a bear be stronger than a man, yet the strength, and art, and especially the leaguing and societies of men, are a greater power than the ungoverned strength of unruly beasts. In this it is that consisteth this dominion of man. And for the same reason when a hungry lion meeteth an unarmed man in a desert, the lion hath the dominion over the man, if that of man over lions, or over sheep and oxen, may be called dominion, which properly it cannot; nor can it be said that sheep and oxen do otherwise obey us, than they would do a lion. And if we have dominion over sheep and oxen, we exercise it not as dominion, but as hostility; for we keep them only to labour, and to be killed and devoured by us; so that lions and bears would be as good masters to them as we are. By this short passage of his concerning _dominion_ and _obedience_, I have no reason to expect a very shrewd answer from him to my _Leviathan_.

(_i_) “The next branch of his answer concerns consultations, which, saith he, ‘are not superfluous, though all things come to pass necessarily; because they are the cause which doth necessitate the effect, and the means to bring it to pass.’”

His reply to this is, that he hath “showed sufficiently, that reason doth not determine the will physically,” &c. If not physically, how then? As he hath told us in another place, _morally_. But what it is to determine a thing morally, no man living understands. I doubt not but he had therefore the will to write this reply, _because_ I had answered his treatise concerning true liberty. My answer therefore was, at least in part, the _cause_ of his writing; yet that is the cause of the nimble local motion of his fingers. Is not the cause of local motion physical? His will therefore was physically, and extrinsically, and antecedently, and not morally caused by my writing.

(_k_) “He adds further that ‘as the end is necessary, so are the means, and when it is determined that one thing shall be chosen before another, it is determined also for what cause it shall be so chosen.’ All which is truth, but not the whole truth,” &c.

Is it not enough that it is truth? Must I put all the truth I know into two or three lines? No. I should have added, that God doth adapt and fit the means to their respective ends, free means to free ends, contingent means to contingent ends, necessary means to necessary ends. It may be I would have done so, but for shame. _Free_, _contingent_ and _necessary_ are not words that can be joined to _means_ or _ends_, but to _agents_ and _actions_; that is to say, to things that move or are moved: a _free agent_ being that whose motion or action is not hindered or stopped, and a _free action_, that which is produced by a free agent. A _contingent agent_ is the same with an _agent_ simply. But, because men for the most part think those things are produced without cause, whereof they do not see the cause, they use to call both the agent and the action contingent, as attributing it to fortune. And therefore, when the causes are necessary, if they perceive not the necessity, they call those necessary agents and actions, in things that have appetite, _free_; and in things inanimate, _contingent_. The rest of his reply to this point is very little of it applied to my answer. I note only that where he says, “but if God have so ordered the world, that a man cannot, _if he would_, neglect any means of good, &c.;” he would fraudulently insinuate that it is my opinion, that a man is not _free to do if he will, and to abstain if he will_. Whereas from the beginning I have often declared that it is none of my opinion; and that my opinion is only this, that he is not _free to will_, or which is all one, he is not master of his future will. After much unorderly discourse he comes in with “this is the doctrine that flows from this opinion of absolute necessity;” which is impertinent; seeing nothing flows from it more than may be drawn from the confession of an eternal prescience.

(_l_) “But he tells me in great sadness, that ‘my argument is no better than this; if I shall live till to-morrow, I shall live till to-morrow, though I run myself through with a sword to-day; which, saith he, is a false consequence, and a false proposition.’ Truly, if by running through, he understand killing, it is a false or rather a foolish proposition.” He saith right. Let us therefore see how it is not like to his. He says, “if it be absolutely necessary that a man shall live till to-morrow, then it is vain and superfluous for him to consult whether he should die to-day or not.” “And this,” he says, “is a true consequence.” I cannot perceive how it is a better consequence than the former; for if it be absolutely necessary that a man should live till to-morrow, and in health, which may also be supposed, why should he not, if he have the curiosity, have his head cut off to try what pain it is. But the consequence is false; for if there be a necessity of his living, it is necessary also that he shall not have so foolish a curiosity. But he cannot yet distinguish between a seen and an unseen necessity, and that is the cause he believeth his consequence to be good.

(_m_) “The next branch of my argument concerns admonitions,” &c.

Which he says is this: “If all things be necessary, then it is to no more purpose to admonish men of understanding, than fools, children, or madmen; but that they do admonish the one and not the other, is confessedly true; and no reason under heaven can be given for it but this, that the former have the use of reason and true liberty, with a dominion over their own actions, which children, fools, and madmen have not.”

The true reason why we admonish men and not children, &c., is because admonition is nothing else but telling a man the good and evil consequences of his actions. They who have experience of good and evil, can better perceive the reasonableness of such admonition, than they that have not; and such as have like passions to those of the admonitor, do more easily conceive that to be good or bad which the admonitor saith is so, than they who have great passions, and such as are contrary to his. The first, which is want of experience, maketh children and fools unapt; and the second, which is strength of passion, maketh madmen unwilling to receive admonition; for children are ignorant, and madmen in an error, concerning what is good or evil for themselves. This is not to say children and madmen want true liberty, that is, the liberty to do as they will, nor to say that men of judgment, or the admonitor himself hath a dominion over his own actions, more than children or madmen, (for their actions are also voluntary), or that when he admonisheth he hath always the use of reason, though he have the use of deliberation, which children, fools, madmen, and beasts also have. There be, therefore, reasons under heaven which the Bishop knows not of.

Whereas I had said, that things necessary may be praiseworthy, and to praise a thing is to say it is good, he distinguisheth and saith:

(_n_) “True, but this goodness is not a metaphysical goodness; so whatsoever hath a being is good; nor a natural goodness; the praise of it passeth wholly to the Author of nature, &c.; but a moral goodness, or a goodness of actions, rather than of things. The moral goodness of an action is the conformity of it to right reason,” &c.

There hath been in the Schools derived from _Aristotle’s Metaphysics_, an old proverb rather than an axiom: _ens, bonum, et verum convertuntur_. From hence the Bishop hath taken this notion of a metaphysical goodness, and his doctrine that whatsoever hath a being is good; and by this interpreteth the words of Gen. i. 31: _God saw all that he had made, and it was very good_. But the reason of those words is, that _good_ is relative to those that are pleased with it, and not of absolute signification to all men. God therefore saith, that all that he had made was very good, because he was pleased with the creatures of his own making. But if all things were absolutely good, we should be all pleased with their _being_, which we are not, when the actions that depend upon their being are hurtful to us. And therefore, to speak properly, nothing is good or evil but in regard of the action that proceedeth from it, and also of the person to whom it doth good or hurt. Satan is evil to us, because he seeketh our destruction, but good to God, because he executeth his commandments. And so his _metaphysical goodness_ is but an idle term, and not the member of a distinction. And as for natural goodness and evilness, that also is but the goodness and evilness of actions; as some herbs are good because they nourish, others evil because they poison us; and one horse is good because he is gentle, strong, and carrieth a man easily; another bad, because he resisteth, goeth hard, or otherwise displeaseth us; and that quality of gentleness, if there were no more laws amongst men than there is amongst beasts, would be as much a moral good in a horse or other beast as in a man. It is the law from whence proceeds the difference between the moral and the natural goodness: so that it is well enough said by him, that “moral goodness is the conformity of an action with right reason”; and better said than meant; for this _right reason_, which is the law, is no otherwise certainly right than by our making it so by our approbation of it and voluntary subjection to it. For the law-makers are men, and may err, and think that law, which they make, is for the good of the people sometimes when it is not. And yet the actions of subjects, if they be conformable to the law, are morally good, and yet cease not to be naturally good; and the praise of them passeth to the Author of nature, as well as of any other good whatsoever. From whence it appears that moral praise is not, as he says, from the good use of liberty, but from obedience to the laws; nor moral dispraise from the bad use of liberty, but from disobedience to the laws. And for his consequence, “if all things be necessary, then moral liberty is quite taken away, and with it all true praise and dispraise”, there is neither truth in it, nor argument offered for it; for there is nothing more necessary than the consequence of _voluntary_ actions to the _will_. And whereas I had said, that to say a thing is good, is to say it is as I or another would wish, or as the state would have it, or according to the law of the land, he answers, that “I mistake infinitely”. And his reason is, because “we often wish what is profitable or delightful, without regarding as we ought what is honest”. There is no man living that seeth all the consequences of an action from the beginning to the end, whereby to weigh the whole sum of the good with the whole sum of the evil consequence. We choose no further than we can weigh. That is good to every man, which is so far good as he can see. All the real good, which we call honest and morally virtuous, is that which is not repugnant to the law, civil or natural; for the law is all the right reason we have, and, (though he, as often as it disagreeth with his own reason, deny it), is the infallible rule of moral goodness. The reason whereof is this, that because neither mine nor the Bishop’s reason is right reason fit to be a rule of our moral actions, we have therefore set up over ourselves a sovereign governor, and agreed that his laws shall be unto us, whatsoever they be, in the place of right reason, to dictate to us what is really good. In the same manner as men in playing turn up trump, and as in playing their game their morality consisteth in not renouncing, so in our civil conversation our morality is all contained in not disobeying of the laws.

To my question, “whether nothing could please him, that proceeded from necessity”, he answers: “yes; the fire pleaseth him when he is cold, and he says it is good fire, but does not praise it morally”. He praiseth, he says, first the Creator of the fire, and then him who provided it. He does well; yet he praiseth the fire when he saith it is good, though not morally. He does not say it is a just fire, or a wise, or a well-mannered fire, obedient to the laws; but these attributes it seems he gives to God, as if justice were not of his nature, but of his manners. And in praising morally him that provided it, he seems to say, he would not say the fire was good, if he were not morally good that did provide it.

To that which I had answered concerning reward and punishment, he hath replied, he says, sufficiently before, and that that which he discourseth here, is not only to answer me, but also to satisfy himself, and saith:

(_o_) “Though it be not urged by him, yet I do acknowledge that I find some improper and analogical rewards and punishments, used to brute beasts, as the hunter rewards his dog,” &c.

For my part, I am too dull to perceive the difference between those rewards used to brute beasts, and those that are used to men. If they be not properly called rewards and punishments, let him give them their proper name. It may be he will say, he has done it in calling them _analogical_; yet for any thing that can be understood thereby, he might have called them _paragogical_, or _typical_, or _topical_, if he had pleased. He adds further, that whereas he had said that the actions of bees and spiders were done without consultation, by mere instinct of nature, and by a determination of their fancies, I misallege him, and say he made their individual actions necessary. I have only this to answer, that, seeing he says that by instinct of nature their fancies were determined to special kinds of works, I might justly infer they were determined every one of them to some work; and every work is an individual action; for _a kind of work_ in the general, is no work. But these their individual actions, he saith, “are contingent, and therefore not necessary”; which is no good consequence: for if he mean by _contingent_, that which has no cause, he speaketh not as a Christian, but maketh a Deity of fortune; which I verily think he doth not. But if he mean by it, that whereof he knoweth not the cause, the consequence is nought.

The means whereby setting-dogs, and coy-ducks, and parrots, are taught to do what they do, “is by their backs, by their bellies, by the rod, or by the morsel, which have indeed a shadow or resemblance of rewards and punishments: but we take the word here properly, not as it is used by vulgar people, but as it is used by divines and philosophers,” &c. Does not the Bishop know that the belly hath taught poets, and historians, and divines, and philosophers, and artificers, their several arts, as well as parrots? Do not men do their duty with regard to their backs, to their necks, and to their morsels, as well as setting-dogs, coy-ducks, and parrots? Why then are these things to us the substance, and to them but the _shadow_ or _resemblance_ of rewards or punishments?

(_p_) “When brute creatures do learn any such qualities, it is not out of judgment or deliberation or discourse, by inferring or concluding one thing from another, which they are not capable of; neither are they able to conceive a reason of what they do,” &c.: but “they remember that when they did after one manner, they were beaten, and when they did after another manner, they were cherished; and accordingly they apply themselves.”

If the Bishop had considered the cogitations of his own mind, not then when he disputeth, but then when he followed those businesses which he calleth trifles, he would have found them the very same which he here mentioneth; saving instead of _beating_, (because he is exempt from that), he is to put _in damage_. For, setting aside the discourse of the tongue in words of general signification, the ideas of our minds are the same with those of other living creatures, created from visible, audible, and other sensible objects to the eyes and other organs of sense, as their’s are. For as the objects of sense are all individual, that is, singular, so are all the fancies proceeding from their operations; and men reason not but in words of universal signification, uttered or tacitly thought on. But perhaps he thinketh remembrance of words to be the ideas of those things which the words signify; and that all fancies are not effected by the operation of objects upon the organs of our senses. But to rectify him in those points is greater labour (unless he had better principles) than I am willing, or have at this time leisure, to undergo.

Lastly, whereas he says, “if their individual actions were absolutely necessary, fear or hope could not alter them”: that is true. For it is fear and hope, that makes them necessarily what they are.

NO. XV.

[Sidenote: The Bishop’s reply.]

_J. D._ “Thirdly, let this opinion be once radicated in the minds of men, that there is no true liberty, and that all things come to pass inevitably, and it will utterly destroy the study of piety. Who will bewail his sins with tears? What will become of that grief, that zeal, that indignation, that holy revenge, which the Apostle speaks of, if men be once thoroughly persuaded that they could not shun what they did? A man may grieve for that which he could not help; but he will never be brought to bewail that as his own fault, which flowed not from his own error, but from antecedent necessity. Who will be careful or solicitous to perform obedience, that believeth there are inevitable bounds and limits set to all his devotions, which he can neither go beyond, nor come short of? To what end shall he pray God to avert those evils which are inevitable, or to confer those favours which are impossible? We indeed know not what good or evil shall happen to us: but this we know, that if all things be necessary, our devotions and endeavours cannot alter that which must be. In a word, the only reason why those persons, who tread in this path of fatal destiny, do sometimes pray, or repent, or serve God, is because the light of nature, and the strength of reason, and the evidence of Scripture, do for that present transport them from their ill-chosen grounds, and expel those stoical fancies out of their heads. A complete Stoic can neither pray, nor repent, nor serve God to any purpose. Either allow liberty, or destroy Church as well as commonwealth, religion as well as policy.”

_T. H._ His third argument consisteth in other inconveniences which he saith will follow, namely, impiety and negligence of religious duties, repentance and zeal to God’s service. To which I answer, as to the rest, that they follow not. I must confess, if we consider the far greatest part of mankind, not as they should be, but as they are, that is, as men whom either the study of acquiring wealth or preferments, or whom the appetite of sensual delights, or the impatience of meditating, or the rash embracing of wrong principles, have made unapt to discuss the truth of things, that the dispute of this question will rather hurt than help their piety. And therefore, if he had not desired this answer, I would not have written it. Nor do I write it, but in hope your Lordship and he will keep it private. Nevertheless, in very truth, the necessity of events does not of itself draw with it any impiety at all. For piety consisteth only in two things; one, that we honour God in our hearts, which is, that we think of his power as highly as we can: for to honour any thing, is nothing else but to think it to be of great power. The other, that we signify that honour and esteem by our words and actions, which is called _cultus_ or worship of God. He therefore, that thinketh that all things proceed from God’s eternal will, and consequently are necessary, does he not think God omnipotent? does he not esteem of his power as highly as is possible; which is to honour God as much as can be in his heart? Again, he that thinketh so, is he not more apt by external acts and words to acknowledge it, than he that thinketh otherwise? Yet is this external acknowledgment the same thing which we call worship. So this opinion fortifieth piety in both kinds, externally and internally, and therefore is far from destroying it. And for repentance, which is nothing but a glad returning into the right way after the grief of being out of the way, though the cause that made him go astray were necessary, yet there is no reason why he should not grieve; and again, though the cause why he returned into the way were necessary, there remain still the causes of joy. So that the necessity of the actions taketh away neither of those parts of repentance, grief for the error, nor joy for the returning. And for prayer, whereas he saith that the necessity of things destroys prayer, I deny it. For though prayer be none of the causes that move God’s will, his will being unchangeable, yet since we find in God’s word, he will not give his blessings but to those that ask them, the motive to prayer is the same. Prayer is the gift of God, no less than the blessings. And the prayer is decreed together in the same decree wherein the blessing is decreed. It is manifest, that thanksgiving is no cause of the blessing passed; and that which is passed, is sure and necessary. Yet even amongst men, thanks are in use as an acknowledgment of the benefit past, though we should expect no new benefit for our gratitude. And prayer to God Almighty is but thanksgiving for his blessings in general; and though it precede the particular thing we ask, yet it is not a cause or means of it, but a signification that we expect nothing but from God, in such manner as He, not as we will. And our Saviour by word of mouth bids us pray, “thy will, not our will be done”; and by example teaches us the same; for he prayed thus: _Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass_, &c. The end of prayer, as of thanksgiving, is not to move, but to honour God Almighty, in acknowledging that what we ask can be effected by Him only.

_J. D._ “I hope T. H. will be persuaded in time, that it is not the coveteousness, or ambition, or sensuality, or sloth, or prejudice of his readers, which render this doctrine of absolute necessity dangerous, but that it is, in its own nature, destructive to true godliness; (_a_) and though his answer consist more of oppositions than of solutions, yet I will not willingly leave one grain of his matter unweighed. (_b_) First, he errs in making inward piety to consist merely in the estimation of the judgment. If this were so, what hinders but that the devils should have as much inward piety as the best Christians? For they esteem God’s power to be infinite, and tremble. Though inward piety do suppose the act of the understanding, yet it consisteth properly in the act of the will, being that branch of justice which gives to God the honour which is due unto him. Is there no love due to God, no faith, no hope? (_c_) Secondly, he errs in making inward piety to ascribe no glory to God, but only the glory of his power or omnipotence. What shall become of all other the Divine attributes, and particularly of his goodness, of his truth, of his justice, of his mercy, which beget a more true and sincere honour in the heart than greatness itself? _Magnos facile laudamus, bonos lubenter._ (_d_) Thirdly, this opinion of absolute necessity destroys the truth of God, making him to command one thing openly, and to necessitate another privately; to chide a man for doing that which he hath determined him to do; to profess one thing, and to intend another. It destroys the goodness of God, making him to be a hater of mankind, and to delight in the torments of his creatures; whereas the very dogs licked the sores of Lazarus, in pity and commiseration of him. It destroys the justice of God, making him to punish the creatures for that which was his own act, which they had no more power to shun, than the fire hath power not to burn. It destroys the very power of God, making him to be the true author of all the defects and evils which are in the world. These are the fruits of impotence, not of omnipotence. He who is the effective cause of sin, either in himself or in the creature, is not almighty. There needs no other devil in the world to raise jealousies and suspicions between God and his creatures, or to poison mankind with an apprehension that God doth not love them, but only this opinion, which was the office of the serpent (Gen. iii. 5). Fourthly, for the outward worship of God; (_e_) how shall a man praise God for his goodness, who believes him to be a greater tyrant than ever was in the world; who creates millions to burn eternally, without their fault, to express his power? How shall a man hear the word of God with that reverence, and devotion, and faith, which is requisite, who believeth that God causeth his gospel to be preached to the much greater part of Christians, not with any intention that they should be converted and saved, but merely to harden their hearts, and to make them inexcusable? How shall a man receive the blessed sacrament with comfort and confidence, as a seal of God’s love in Christ, who believeth that so many millions are positively excluded from all fruit and benefit of the passions of Christ, before they had done either good or evil? How shall he prepare himself with care and conscience, who apprehendeth that eating and drinking unworthily is not the cause of damnation, but, because God would damn a man, therefor he necessitates him to eat and drink unworthily? How shall a man make a free vow to God without gross ridiculous hypocrisy, who thinks he is able to perform nothing but as he is extrinsically necessitated? Fifthly, for repentance, how shall a man condemn and accuse himself for his sins, who thinks himself to be like a watch which is wound up by God, and that he can go neither longer nor shorter, faster nor slower, truer nor falser, than he is ordered by God? If God sets him right, he goes right; if God sets him wrong, he goes wrong. How can a man be said to return into the right way, who never was in any other way but that which God himself had chalked out for him? What is his purpose to amend, who is destitute of all power, but as if a man should purpose to fly without wings, or a beggar who hath not a groat in his purse, purpose to build hospitals?

“We use to say, admit one absurdity, and a thousand will follow. To maintain this unreasonable opinion of absolute necessity, he is necessitated (but it is hypothetically, he might change his opinion if he would) to deal with all ancient writers as the Goths did with the Romans, who destroyed all their magnificent works, that there might remain no monument of their greatness upon the face of the earth. Therefore he will not leave so much as one of their opinions, nor one of their definitions, nay, not one of their terms of art standing. (_f_) Observe what a description he hath given us here of repentance: ‘it is a glad returning into the right way, after the grief of being out of the way’. It amazed me to find _gladness_ to be the first word in the description of repentance. His repentance is not that repentance, nor his piety that piety, nor his prayer that kind of prayer, which the Church of God in all ages hath acknowledged. Fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes, and tears, and _humicubations_, used to be companions of repentance. Joy may be a consequent of it, not a part of it. (_g_) It is a _returning_: but whose act is this returning? Is it God’s alone, or doth the penitent person concur also freely with the grace of God? If it be God’s alone, then it is his repentance, not man’s repentance. What need the penitent person trouble himself about it? God will take care of his own work. The Scriptures teach us otherwise, that God expects our concurrence (Revel. iii. 19, 20): _Be zealous and repent: behold I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him_. It is a ‘glad returning into the right way’. Why dare any man call that a wrong way, which God himself hath determined? He that willeth and doth that which God would have him to will and to do, is never out of his right way. It follows in his description, _after the grief_, &c. It is true, a man may grieve for that which is necessarily imposed upon him; but he cannot grieve for it as a fault of his own, if it never was in his power to shun it. Suppose a writingmaster shall hold his scholar’s hand in his, and write with it; the scholar’s part is only to hold still his hand, whether the master write well or ill; the scholar hath no ground either of joy or sorrow, as for himself; no man will interpret it to be his act, but his master’s. It is no fault to be out of the right way, if a man had not liberty to have kept himself in the way.

“And so from _repentance_ he skips quite over _new obedience_ to come to _prayer_, which is the last religious duty insisted upon by me here. But according to his use, without either answering or mentioning what I say; which would have showed him plainly what kind of prayer I intend, not contemplative prayer in general, as it includes thanksgiving, but that most proper kind of prayer which we call _petition_, which used to be thus defined, to be an act of religion by which we desire of God something which we have not, and hope that we shall obtain it by him; quite contrary to this, T. H. tells us, (_h_) that prayer ‘is not a cause nor a means of God’s blessing, but only a signification that we expect it from him’. If he had told us only, that prayer is not a meritorious cause of God’s blessings, as the poor man by begging an alms doth not deserve it, I should have gone along with him. But to tell us, that it is not so much as a means to procure God’s blessing, and yet with the same breath, that ‘God will not give his blessings but to those who pray’, who shall reconcile him to himself? The Scriptures teach us otherwise, (John xvi. 23): _Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you_: (Matth. vii. 7): _Ask, and it shall be given you, seek, and ye shal find, knock, and it shall be opened unto you_. St. Paul tells the Corinthians (2 Cor. i. 11), that he was _helped by their prayers_: that is not all; that _the gift was bestowed upon him by their means_. So prayer is a means. And St. James saith (chap. v. 16): _The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much_. If it be _effectual_, then it is a cause. To show this efficacy of prayer, our Saviour useth the comparison of a father towards his child, of a neighbour towards his neighbour; yea, of an unjust judge, to shame those who think that God hath not more compassion than a wicked man. This was signified by Jacob’s wrestling and prevailing with God. Prayer is like the tradesman’s tools, wherewithal he gets his living for himself and his family. But, saith he, ‘God’s will is unchangeable’. What then? He might as well use this against study, physic, and all second causes, as against prayer. He shows even in this, how little they attribute to the endeavours of men. There is a great difference between these two: _mutare voluntatem_, to change the will; (which God never doth, in whom there is not the least shadow of turning by change; his will to love and hate was the same from eternity, which it now is and ever shall be; his love and hatred are immovable, but we are removed; _non tellus cymbam, tellurem cymba reliquit_); and _velle mutationem_, to will a change; which God often doth. To change the will, argues a change in the agent; but to will a change, only argues a change in the object. It is no inconstancy in a man to love or to hate as the object is changed. _Præsta mihi omnia eadem, et idem sum._ Prayer works not upon God, but us; it renders not him more propitious in himself, but us more capable of mercy. He saith this, ‘that God doth not bless us, except we pray, is a motive to prayer’. Why talks he of motives, who acknowledgeth no liberty, nor admits any cause but absolutely necessary? He saith, ‘prayer is the gift of God, no less than the blessing which we pray for, and contained in the same decree with the blessing’. It is true, the spirit of prayer is the gift of God. Will he conclude from thence, that the good employment of one talent, or of one gift of God, may not procure another? Our Saviour teacheth us otherwise: _Come thou good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful in little, I will make thee ruler over much_. Too much light is an enemy to the sight, and too much law is an enemy to justice. I could wish we wrangled less about God’s decrees, until we understood them better. But, saith he, ‘thanksgiving is no cause of the blessing past, and prayer is but a thanksgiving’. He might even as well tell me, that when a beggar craves an alms, and when he gives thanks for it, it is all one. Every thanksgiving is a kind of prayer, but every prayer, and namely petition, is not a thanksgiving. In the last place he urgeth, that ‘in our prayers we are bound to submit our wills to God’s will.’ Who ever made any doubt of this? We must submit to the preceptive will of God, or his commandments; we must submit to the effective will of God, when he declares his good pleasure by the event or otherwise. But we deny, and deny again, either that God wills things _ad extra_, without himself, necessarily, or that it is his pleasure that all second causes should act necessarily at all times; which is the question, and that which he allegeth to the contrary comes not near it.

ANIMADVERSIONS UPON THE BISHOP’S REPLY NO. XV.

(_a_) “And though his answer consist more of oppositions than of solutions, yet I will not willingly leave one grain of his matter unweighed.”

It is a promise of great exactness, and like to that which is in his Epistle to the Reader: “Here is all that passed between us upon this subject, without any addition or the least variation from the original,” &c.: which promises were both needless, and made out of gallantry; and therefore he is the less pardonable in case they be not very rigidly observed. I would therefore have the reader to consider, whether these words of mine: “our Saviour bids us pray, _thy will_, not _our_ will, _be done_, and by example teaches us the same; for he prayed thus: _Father, if it be thy will let this cup pass_,” &c.: which seem at least to imply that our prayers cannot change the will of God, nor divert him from his eternal decree: have been weighed by him to a grain, according to his promise. Nor hath he kept his other promise any better; for (No. VIII.) replying to these words of mine, “if he had so little to do as to be a spectator of the actions of bees and spiders, he would have confessed not only election, but also art, prudence, and policy in them,” &c., he saith, “yes, I have seen those silliest of creatures, and seeing their rare works I have seen enough to confute all the bold-faced atheists of this age, and their hellish blasphemies”. This passage is added to that which passed between us upon this subject; for it is not in the copy which I have had by me, as himself confesseth, these eight years; nor is it in the body of the copy he sent to the press, but only in the margin, that is to say, added out of anger against me, whom he would have men think to be one of the bold-faced atheists of this age.

In the rest of this reply he endeavoureth to prove, that it followeth from my opinion, that there is no use of piety. My opinion is no more than this, that a man cannot so determine to-day, the will which he shall have to the doing of any action to-morrow, as that it may not be changed by some external accident or other, as there shall appear more or less advantage to make him persevere in the will to the same action, or to will it no more. When a man intendeth to pay a debt at a certain time, if he see that the detaining of the money for a little longer may advantage himself, and seeth no other disadvantage equivalent likely to follow upon the detention, he hath his will changed by the advantage, and therefore had not determined his will himself; but when he foreseeth discredit or perhaps imprisonment, then his will remaineth the same, and is determined by the thoughts he hath of his creditor, who is therefore an external cause of the determination of the debtor’s will. This is so evident to all men living, though they never studied school-divinity, that it will be very strange if he draw from it the great impiety he pretends to do. Again, my opinion is only this: that whatsoever God foreknows shall come to pass, it cannot possibly be that that shall not come to pass; but that which cannot possibly not come to pass, that is said by all men to come to pass necessarily; therefore all events that God foreknows shall come to pass, shall come to pass necessarily. If therefore the Bishop draw impiety from this, he falleth into the impiety of denying God’s prescience. Let us see now how he reasoneth.

(_b_) “First, he errs in making inward piety to consist merely in the estimation of the judgment. If this were so, what hinders but that the devils should have as much inward piety as the best Christians; for they esteem God’s power to be infinite, and tremble?”

I said, that two things concurred to _piety_; one, to esteem his power as highly as is possible; the other, that we signify that estimation by our words and actions, that is to say, that we worship him. This latter part of piety he leaveth out; and then, it is much more easy to conclude as he doth, that the devils may have inward piety. But neither so doth the conclusion follow. For goodness is one of God’s powers, namely, that power by which he worketh in men the hope they have in him; and is relative; and therefore, unless the devil think that God will be good to him, he cannot esteem him for his goodness. It does not therefore follow from any opinion of mine, that the devil may have as much inward piety as a Christian. But how does the Bishop know how the devils esteem God’s power; and what devils does he mean? There are in the Scripture two sorts of things, which are in English translated devils. One, is that which is called Satan, Diabolus, and Abaddon, which signifies in English, an _enemy_, an _accuser_, and a _destroyer_ of the Church of God. In which sense, the devils are but wicked men. How then is he sure that they esteem God’s power to be infinite? For, _trembling_ infers no more than that they apprehend it to be greater than their own. The other sort of devils are called in the Scripture _dæmonia_, which are the feigned Gods of the heathen, and are neither bodies nor spiritual substances, but mere fancies, and fictions of terrified hearts, feigned by the Greeks and other heathen people, and which St. Paul calleth _nothings_; for an idol, saith he, is nothing. Does the Bishop mean, that these nothings esteem God’s power to be infinite and tremble? There is nothing that has a real being, but God, and the world, and the parts of the world; nor has anything a feigned being, but the fictions of men’s brains. The world and the parts thereof are corporeal, endued with the dimensions of quantity, and with figure. I should be glad to know, in what classes of entities which is a word that schoolmen use, the Bishop ranketh these devils, that so much esteem God’s power, and yet not love him nor hope in him, if he place them not in the rank of those men who are enemies to the people of God, as the Jews did.

(_c_) “Secondly, he errs in making inward piety to ascribe no glory to God, but only the glory of his power or omnipotence. What shall become of all other the Divine attributes, and particularly of his goodness, of his truth, of his justice, of his mercy,” &c.

He speaketh of God’s goodness and mercy, as if they were no part of his power. Is not goodness, in him that is good, the power to make himself beloved, and is not mercy goodness? Are not, therefore, these attributes contained in the attribute of his omnipotence? And justice in God, is it anything else, but the power he hath, and exerciseth in distributing blessings and afflictions? Justice is not in God as in man, the observation of the laws made by his superiors. Nor is wisdom in God, a logical examination of the means by the end, as it is in men; but an incomprehensible attribute given to an incomprehensible nature, for to honour him. It is the Bishop that errs, in thinking nothing to be power but riches and high place, wherein to domineer and please himself, and vex those that submit not to his opinions.

(_d_) “Thirdly, this opinion of absolute necessity destroys the truth of God, making him to command one thing openly, and to necessitate another privately, &c. It destroys the goodness of God, making him to be a hater of mankind, &c. It destroys the justice of God, making him to punish the creatures for that which was his own act, &c. It destroys the very power of God, making him to be the true author of all the defects and evils which are in the world.”