how easy it is to deceive ourselves in regard to our sentiments, though they were left entirely to our own judgment. I found on the other side many that were well inclined, though they were quite inactive. These and other reflections induced me to think, that virtue consisted in nothing else, but in actions which are useful to society, and in a desire of producing them. Ambition, the love of our native country, natural inclination to what is good, a well regulated self-love, or even the knowledge of religion, when they are considered as motives of virtue, I looked upon as indifferent things, according as they happened to make different impressions upon particular persons. Reason and reflection were, in my opinion, the only teachers and regulators of virtue. He was the most virtuous whose actions were the most useful, the most difficult to be practised, and of the most extensive influence; and no one could be blamed who observed the laws of his country, and the true principles of honour. the reproaches of others, made me "I thought I had found in the nature of man sufficient powers and springs to make him virtuous. Revealed religion I looked upon as unnecessary, since it could only convince those whose understandings were less enlightened, of the obligations to virtue. The effects of religion I never had perceived within me; at least I never had regarded them. Its doctrines seemed to contradict all the rest of my notions. Its morals appeared to me too severe; and I believed I found them fully as clear, perfect, and useful in the writings of philosophers. If you add to this the following doubts: Religion is known but among a small part of mankind, it makes very little impression upon the minds of persons in general, its abuse has produced many fatal consequences, few of those who professs it act agreeably to its precepts, there is but little hope of a future life,— God's mercy will forgive the faults of error and precipitation, the na ture of man contradicts the precepts of religion and opposes them: you will easily imagine what inferences I drew from such premises. "Reason guided by understand ing, supported by ambition, selflove, and a natural inclination to what is decorous, became now the principle which determined my actions. To how many errors and mistakes was I exposed! I found it not difficult to excuse my favourite passions, and give myself up entirely to the gratification of them. The indulgence of my sensual desires appeared to me, at the most, to be only a weakness, if they were not attended with bad consequences either to myself or to others, and this could be prevented by prudence and circumspection. I found that many who pretended to honour and virtue, yet indulged them, and excused them. The manners of the times silently permitted liberties which were condemned only by the too rigid moralist, but were treated with more indulgence and tenderness by those who are acquainted with the human heart. Continence was in my eyes a virtue produced by prejudice. Whole nations subsisted without knowing or practising this virtue. "It is very humiliating to me, my dear friend, to repeat to you these false excuses, which appear to me at present highly absurd. However, they will be found to be adopt ed by all those who act not quite thoughtlessly, but attempt to apologize by arguments for the irregularity of their life. How easy is it in this manner to palliate and to justify the indulgence of every one of our passions! The ambitious man finds, in all that he does, patriotism and a laudable ambition; the self-conceited, a noble pride, found ed upon merit, and a justice which he owes to himself; the slanderer, a love of truth, and innocent mirth; and so on of the rest. "I hoped to escape those errors by an accurate self-examination, and an inquiry into the consequences of my actions. But how was I able to do this, even were it possible to answer for their more immediate consequences? Did I not deceive myself in believing that I had the strongest intentions of doing good, and that I did really as much as I was able to do? Was it not infatuation, insensibility, and affectation, when I flattered myself that I should experience firmness and tranquillity in my present misfortunes? When I searched into the causes of these misfortunes, I considered only the political ones: and how much could I find to excuse myself, if I did but consider the nature of my situation, and the accidents it was subject to? I had but a confused idea of my moral principles, and I could not reject them, without depriving myself of all comfort. My ideas as to futurity I before told you: and as the impression which an object makes upon the mind grows stronger by constantly reflecting upon it, by dissipating my thoughts, and directing them to other subjects, I could the more easily bear my misfortunes, and keep up my usual spirits. "In this condition, my dear friend, you found me, and we began our conferences." The interesting nature of these conferences, which extended to thirty-eight in number, shall be shewn in a series of extracts from Dr. Munter's memoranda; but, in the mean time, it may be useful to adduce another passage from the Count's own confessions, with a view to shew the unsatisfactory and miserable state of his mind while under the influence of sceptical surmises, yet partially convinced of their fu tility. "What satisfaction have I received of all which fortune seemed to promise me? My passions were perhaps gratified, but in such a manner as always left a void after them. My wishes were satisfied, but the anxiety I was under to preserve my possessions took away much of the enjoyment of them. I revelled in a variety of pleasures which, commit an action which deserved reproaches, and destroyed my inward happiness. The Count proceeds to mention some of the books and arguments which began to shake his infidel opinions. A few passages from this part of his confessions will serve as an introduction to Dr. Munter's more detailed account. by their nature, destroy one another, and are at the most nothing more than dissipations. I grew at last insensible to the pleasures of life, I was ready to give up my forwhich is the natural consequence of mer principles as soon as I could being in possession of every thing discover better. I saw that they which can render life easy and agree- were liable to two objections. My able. I did not enjoy the comforts way of judging of the morality of of friendship and society, as the actions from their relations and situation I was in was extremely consequences was neither safe nor dissipated, and it required attention certain. My arguments in favour to a hundred trifles: besides, the im- of virtue might be equally applipossibility of diverting my thoughts cable to justify the gratification of from the little dependence I could my passions as to control them. place on it would not admit of any They were not sufficiently strong in real satisfaction. Supposing, too, their effects, and were also liable to that I even had good intentions, be misinterpreted when my passions and the means of putting them became too impetuous. Conscience, into practice, and that my faults the inward sense of what is good or were only the consequences of in- bad, and the fear of God, seemed not attention and natural weakness, I to obviate this difficulty; because should lose all the comforts I might I found sufficient reasons to disallow derive from the former, by reproach- them, and my sensuality would not ing myself on account of the latter. permit me to feel their impression." I might have avoided them by recollecting all their consequences, according to their different relations. However, even this was impossible when my passions represented to me the danger in which my own happiness and that of others was involved, and the impossibility of providing against consequences which were then at a distance. When my passions and my reason were in opposition, and the understanding was to decide, I might have been always inclined in favour of that side where the pleasure seemed nearest, and pain at the greatest distance. Ambition and self-love, and the influence our actions have upon one another, are easily explained, and in their application found sufficient to answer their purposes. I could not now deny but that my principles were not capable of procuring me moral tranquillity, that my passions had been the chief springs of all my actions, and that no other comfort remained for me but that which is derived from the inconstancy of human affairs. I might be indebted to my principles for my success in life, and my activity; but I must reject them if they induced me to "You know, my dear friend, how much these truths increased my uneasiness: I saw continually new objects, which hitherto had remained undiscovered, on account of the liveliness of the first impressions. The indifference I had to any fixed principles, my neglect of every single obligation, my remissness in doing good, when I had opportunity or abilities for it, the mischief which my example and the propagation of my principles might do, the displeasure of God which my transgressions must draw upon me; all these circumstances united produced in me the greatest anxiety. And how could I lessen the anxiety such reflections occasioned me? I took the resolution to act according to that truth which I had found. I had a lively sense of my former transgressions; but from whence could I derive the hopes of repairing what was done, or burying it in oblivion? It is uncertain whether and that he was sent to instruct us, good intentions will always be equally strong: perhaps new enticements and the errors of my understanding may overpower them. The thought which is directed towards God, the feelings, conscience, and the recollection of its reproaches, may be weakened. Virtue cannot prevent vice from being hurtful, much less can it repair the damage which is done. Time, opportunities, and former situations were lost to me, and but little comfort was left me from this view. When I reflected on the idea which reason afforded me of God, I had but little hope to flatter myself that my sins would be forgiven. If I attempted to form the most favour able idea of God's mercy, that he would consider the weakness and imperfection of human nature, I saw at the same time his justice and immutability, which were directly contrary to this idea." "A Divine revelation had appeared to me unnecessary, its historical evidence dubious, and the facts related seemed to be very improbable." "The examination of the historical arguments of Divine revelation with care and precaution has satisfied and convinced me. Being certain of this, it was an easy matter for me to remove all my other doubts. I was certain there must be stronger arguments to convince us, than those which mere reason furnishes us with." "Our internal sensations, conscience, and the contemplation of nature, seldom carry us so far back as to make any alteration in our moral conduct. The will of God, in regard to our happiness, remains doubtful to our reason, as long as it is left to the decision of our understanding. The various revelations in the Old Testament, prophecies, laws, and remarkable punishments, might be looked upon as impostures of men, and as things which arose from natural causes but since Christ has come into the world, and told us that his doctrine was the will of God, and that he himself was the true God, no further excuse remains for our ignorance and error. Every one to whom the opportunity is offered, and who will accept of it, can easily convince himself of its truth." "Christ has commanded me to believe that he was very God and very man, and the Son of God; and that in the Divine nature the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are one. This seemed to contradict all the notions which I had hitherto entertained. But I knew that the word of Christ was unerring truth; that he must be fully acquainted with these mysteries; and that I had not the least reason to imagine he would require of me to believe any thing that was contradictory to reason. It might be above my understanding; but how many things do we meet with in the course of nature, the existence of which we cannot deny, without being able to explain why they are so, and how they are connected with their causes? I felt myself obliged to believe these mysteries upon the word of Christ: nevertheless I have considered them with great attention, without finding them contradictory." "I reflect on Christ's redemption, to which my understanding can discover no objection. I am convinced how necessary it is for my happiness to know, that my actions are not indifferent to God: and now I am assured, with all historical certainty, that Christ lived, and was proved to be intimately connected with the Deity, by performing such actions as cannot be explained by natural causes. He assures me of his friendship; and I cannot conceive what advantage could arise to him, or what intention he could have to deceive me. I am inclined to believe my friend in a matter in which his former transactions have convinced me that his knowledge is superior to mine, if my understanding finds nothing contradictory in it. Christ tells me, that he knows the will of God, and that God himself speaks to me through him, which certainly is the best way to learn his will. The doctrines he inculcates agree with those which my own reason teaches to be necessary for my happiness; and I was sensible how easily I could misapply these doctrines, if I did not always remember that God saw my actions. Whatever determined me formerly to act in such a manner as my own happiness required, I owed to other causes and intentions; and why should I not have interpreted the actions and kindness of Christ in the same manner? He recals to my memory whatever I know from political and natural history, and expressly assures me that extraordinary events were designed for this purpose. He sums up all these together in this single proposition: God loves man as a father; he shews himself as a friend." "How am I indebted to him that he has made himself known to me in so extraordinary a manner! I could not even expect to deserve the happy consequences of the resolution I had made of obeying Christ's precepts; since, without the perpetual assistance of the Spirit of God, I am unable to obey them, and since, notwithstanding this assistance, I so frequently neglect and forget them." "I believe these three to be but one God, and the idea I have makes the Trinity not different deities. All this is conformable to my reason. However, I durst not hope, considering God and myself, that this Supreme Being would be so merciful as to teach me how, according to the sentiments of my own understanding, I could be happy. Full of gratitude, and conscious of my being unworthy, I adore his condescension, and shall never desist to adore and praise the mercy shewn to me through Christ. "I was greatly affected when I read the life of Christ. It increased my former pains, and gave me new ones. But I was afraid it was owing to my disposition of mind, beCHRIST. OBSERV. No. 275. cause I was still full of doubts. The examination of the truth of the Christian religion became more agreeable to me the more I advanced in it. My reason was satisfied with it, but I did not find those inward feelings which, as I had heard, were connected with true Christianity, according to the confused notions of some people. Spalding's book set me right in this point. I found here how difficult it is to get rid of opinions and sentiments which are become a second nature, though I was convinced that they were false and destructive. My doubts arose contrary to my wishes; and I did not pass them over before I had examined them separately, and had frequently reflected on the arguments for the truth of religion. "The application of its doctrines produced within me a lively repentance, sorrow, shame, and sentiments of humility. With anxiety and fear I waited for the comfort which the Gospel promised me. To regulate my sentiments agreeably to its precepts was my chief employment. The perpetual remembrance of the greatness of God's mercy, which was shewn to me by the redemption of Christ, made me overcome those difficulties which arose from my natural disposition. The pleasure of finding a happiness, which I hitherto had wilfully renounced, could not produce in me a lively joy, because I remembered that I had been seeking it formerly in a manner that could not please God. It was impossible to make myself perfectly easy. I was prevented from this by the thought, that if I had formerly entertained my present sentiments, I might have thereby excited those persons with whom I had been most intimate to inquire after the same happiness. Now I am praying to God that he may do it, and I am persuaded he will, since Christ has promised to answer prayer. Prayer abates the uneasiness I have on this and other subjects, which are truly painful for me to remember. I direct my thoughts to 4T 1 |