As the evidences became more prominent in theological, so hell became of more importance in their ethical, speculations. And hence arose a coarse form of morality which, however, suited the temper of the age. Waterland, whose views upon the evidences of Christianity have already been noticed, may stand equally for a representative specimen of the Christian system of morality as Christianity was then understood. In a pamphlet which gave rise to a bitter controversy, he attacked Clarke's 'Exposition of the Catechism.' His wrath was aroused partly by certain symptoms of incipient Arianism in his adversary, but still more by a distinction drawn by Clarke between moral and positive duties. The distinction had been put into an epigrammatic form in Tillotson's assertion that a man had better never take the sacrament in his life than kill people for not taking it. In opposition to this doctrine, Waterland points out, with considerable logical vigour, that the distinction between moral and positive has been confounded by his adversaries with the distinction between external and internal. It is needless to follow him into the intricacies of the argument. Shortly stated, it is his view that all duties, whether moral or positive, are binding because they are imposed by God. Duty means simply obedience to a divine law, and it is not for us to enquire into the reasons for the commands given by the supreme authority. Obedience to a positive command may sometimes acquire greater value than obedience to a moral law; as is proved by his favourite case of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac-a deed which, as he assumes, has rendered its doer 'more famous both in heaven and on earth than all his moral virtues put together.''

116. Waterland is a utilitarian so far as regards the criterion of morality, and he lays it down as a principle that we are to test the relative importance of divine commands, not by asking which is moral and which is positive, but by asking what depends upon our conscientious obedience to them; or, in other words, which is most conducive to the general good.2 He is thus conducted to a definition of virtue substantially identical with the well-known dogma of Paley. Moral goodness,' he says, 'is choosing and performing those beneficial actions upon a principle of obedience and out of love to God.' 3 1 Waterland, Works, iv. 46. 2 Ib. p. 69. Ib. p. 78.

It is thus essential to a virtuous action that it should be performed not only from love of God, but from the love of the God revealed in the Bible. Accepting fully the orthodox dogma of the intrinsic vileness of all human actions, he speaks with the utmost contempt of all the pagan virtues. The good deeds of the heathen, like the good deeds of the brutes, are 'materially,' not 'formally,' virtuous. The absence of the right motive vitiates them. Socrates was hopelessly inferior to Abraham or St. Paul, because his acts, though externally of the same character, were not grounded on the same faith and hope. In fact, Socrates was not virtuous because he did not do right with a view to posthumous repayment. Rather, it seems, he should be called a fool or a madman. Suppose there was no God, he says, it might be fit for a man to discharge the moral duties 'so far as is consistent or coincident with his temporal happiness. That would be no virtue nor duty, but self-interest only, and love of the world. But if he proceeds further to sacrifice his own temporal happiness to the public, that, indeed, would be virtue and duty, on the supposition that God requires it, but without it, it is folly and madness. There is neither prudence nor good sense in preferring the happiness of others absolutely to our own, that is to say, without prospect of a future equivalent. But if God commands us to postpone our present interest, honour, or pleasure, to public considerations, it is then fitting and reasonable so to do; for God, by engaging us to it, becomes our security that we shall not finally or in the last result be losers by it. What would otherwise be folly now commences duty and virtue, and puts on obligation.' 1

117. The theory thus expounded has an additional element of repulsiveness in Waterland's assumption, not only that virtue consists in giving credit to God for repayment of our sufferings, but that we should be mere fools to trust any God but his own. The doctrine is purified of that hideous corollary by later writers, and of the same school; but substantially the same theory was maintained by the most accepted teachers of the century. Its recommendation to men of strong common sense is obvious. It enabled them to threaten evildoers with hell-fire, instead of appealing to vague Waterland's Works, iv. III.

fitnesses of things, or to a moral sense only perceptible to philosophers. At the same time it kept God at a convenient distance. It exiled mystery from the affairs of daily life, but left a dark background of terror sufficient to keep criminals in awe. It may be considered, indeed, as a crude mode of expressing some important truths; on the one hand, it admitted that the rule of life was to be discovered from experience, and not from a priori theories, which had too little consistency to be a safe guide; on the other, it asserted-in a crude and brutal fashion enough-the necessity of some religious sentiment to restrain the selfish passions of mankind. And thus it was essentially a compromise which could not satisfy a truly philosophical mind, but which did well enough as a stopgap, borrowing its terms from the old theology, and drawing upon experience for practical guidance.

118. The theory of Law, or of the Rev. Mr. Gay-for Gay, it seems, chiefly compiled the essay which was adopted by Law-is given in an introduction to Law's translation of Archbishop King's 'Origin of Evil.' This introduction is remarkable because, as already noticed, it helped to suggest Hartley's theory of association. Two or three propositions extracted from its pages will sufficiently indicate its general character.

'Virtue is conformity to a rule of life, directing the actions of all rational creatures with respect to each other's happiness; to which conformity everyone is in all cases obliged, and everyone that does so conform is, or ought to be, approved, esteemed, and loved for so doing.' 'Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting any action in order to be happy.' God alone can make a perfect obligation, for he alone can, in all cases, make a man happy or miserable.' As God wishes men to be happy, the happiness of mankind criterion of virtue but once removed.' general end of all our actions, and moral goodness or moral virtue in man is not merely choosing or producing pleasure or natural good, but choosing it without a view to present rewards, and in prospect of a future recompense only.'

may be said to be a Happiness is the

119. The ablest and most original exponent of this theory was Abraham Tucker, author of the 'Light of Nature Pursued.' Few men have led more blameless or happier

lives than this neglected philosopher. He was a rich country gentleman, spending his summers on his estate and his winters in London. But, unlike his neighbours, he delighted neither in fox-hunting nor in place-hunting. Philosophical theories were the game which he loved to follow through all the writings of some speculative labyrinth, and his ambition was to be received as a worthy colleague of Locke instead of Chatham. His devotion to abstract enquiries was free from the slightest tinge of moroseness or indifference to practical affairs. He was an example of that rarest of all intellectual compounds, the metaphysical humourist. He might have stood for a likeness of Mr. Shandy; and Montaigne is perhaps the writer to whom, though at a long distance, he bears the closest resemblance. This mixture of shrewdness and kindliness which made him active and amiable in all the relations of life shows itself in every page of his book, Listening to abstract disquisitions upon theology, ethics, and metaphysics, we strangely learn to love the author, whose eye is always twinkling with suppressed humour even in the gravest passages of his discourse. There is something so simple and childlike in his outbreaks of playfulness, that his incongruities never shock us. Indeed, his illustrations, quaint as they may be, have frequently the merit of an almost incomparable felicity. We can see the old gentleman writing in his study, and when perplexed to explain his theories, raising his eyes and smiling complacently, as he presses into his service the first object that meets his gaze. The childish game of cat's-cradle, the handiwork of the village carpenter, the groom saddling a horse, a girl going to a ball, or something that reminds him of his own courtship; these and a hundred other familiar objects enable him to expound his views on fate, free-will, a future life, the mechanism of the human mind, and the purposes of the Almighty. To be candid is part of his nature; a difficulty, instead of heating his temper, receives a genuine welcome; for does it not give one more problem over which he may brood for hours, and which may serve as a point of attachment for new webs of theory? No one ever more fully appreciated the maxim, that the search after truth-'Search' is the significant pseudonym which he adopts-is more delightful than the fruition. He would

have regarded a fallacy which was too easily exposed just as a sportsman would regard a fox which did not give him a good run. An antagonist is therefore a friend in disguise, to be met with a quaint joke, instead of a bitter sarcasm. No man's pen was ever freer from gall. And, of course, it follows that Tucker is not seldom wearisome and immeasurably prolix. The last twenty years of his life were devoted to the composition of his book; and he has no intention to spare his readers one inch of the devious track which he has followed throughout that time. He never hurries; he cares nothing for concentration; the twentieth statement of any proposition is as prolix as the first; and he utterly ignores the principle that the secret of being tedious is to say everything.

120. This fault has been fatal to anything like a wide popularity of the 'Light of Nature.' Nine readers out of ten are probably repelled after a time by the boundless garrulity of his philosophical gossip. Vivacious, amiable, and cheerful as he may be, one longs to say, Do, for heaven's sake, take something for granted! But the old gentleman benignantly follows out his plan in its minutest details, and cares not for the diminution of his audience. Yet those who have the courage to follow him will be repaid, if by nothing else, at least by a curious exhibition of character, and by some curious illustrations of contemporary modes of thought.

121. To compress such a book into a few paragraphs is necessarily to do it injustice, for the irrelevant passages must be omitted, and the irrelevant passages are often what is most charming. It would be difficult, for example, to cite a more amusingly characteristic passage in any book than the chapter called the 'Vision,' which occupies over seventy closely printed octavo pages in the last edition of his works. But how give an idea within any shorter limits of the singular experience of the disembodied or partially disembodied Tucker; of the strange flashes of playful humour, and pathetic sentiment, and reverent emotion, which are blended into a unique whole, equally calculated to provoke smiles and sympathy? The dreaming soul is separated from his body, but still enveloped in a kind of minute bag, which, it appears, is the semi-corporeal abode of spirits in the 'vehicular state.' The