PREFACE.
It ought to be no matter of offence, that in this volume, as well as in the foregoing, the mischiefs which arise from the abuses of religion are so often mentioned, while so little in comparison is said of the salutary consequences which result from true and genuine piety. The proper office of religion is to reform men's lives, to purify their hearts, to enforce all moral duties, and to secure obedience to the laws and civil magistrate. While it pursues these useful purposes, its operations, though infinitely valuable, are secret and silent, and seldom come under the cognisance of history. That adulterate species of it alone, which inflames faction, animates sedition, and prompts rebellion, distinguishes itself in the
open theatre of the world. Those, therefore, who attempt to draw inferences disadvantageous to religion from the abuses of it mentioned by historians, proceed upon a very gross, and a very obvious fallacy; for, besides that every thing is liable to abuse, and the best things the most so, the beneficent influence of religion is not to be sought for in history. That principle is always the more pure and genuine, the less figure it makes in the annals of war, politics, intrigues, and revolutions, quarrels, and convulsions; which it is the business of an historian to record and transmit to posterity.
It ought as little to be matter of offence, that no religious sect is mentioned in this work without being exposed sometimes to some note of blame and disapprobation. The frailties of our nature mingle themselves with every thing in which we are employed, and no human institutions will ever reach perfection, the idea of an infinite mind. The author of the universe seems at first sight to require a worship absolutely pure, simple, unadorned, without rites, institutions, ceremonies; even without temples, priests, or verbal prayer and supplication. Yet has this species of devotion been often found to degenerate into the most dangerous fanaticism. When we have recourse to the aid of the senses and imagination, in order to adapt our religion in some degree to human infirmity, it is very difficult, and almost impossible, to prevent altogether the intrusion of superstition, or keep men from laying too great stress on the ceremonial and ornamental parts of their worship. Of all the sects into which Christians have been divided, the Church of England seems to have chosen the most happy medium; yet it will undoubtedly be allowed, that during the age of which these volumes treat, there was a tincture of superstition in the partisans of the hierarchy, as well as a strong mixture of enthusiasm in their antagonists. But it is the nature of the latter principle soon to evaporate and decay. A spirit of moderation usually succeeds in a little to the fervours of zeal; and it must be acknowledged, to the honour of the present Presbyterians, Independents, and other sectaries of this island, that they resemble in little more than in name their predecessors, who flourished during the civil wars, and who were the authors of such disorders. It would appear ridiculous in the eyes of
the judicious part of mankind, to pretend that even the first reformers, in most countries of Europe, did not carry matters to a most violent extreme, and were not on many occasions liable to the imputation of fanaticism. Not to mention that uncharitable spirit which accompanies zealots of all kinds, and which led the early reformers, almost universally, to inflict upon the Catholics, and on all who differed from them, the same rigours of which they themselves so loudly complained.
These hints, however obvious, the author thought proper to suggest, with regard to the free and impartial manner in which he has treated religious controversy. As to the civil and political part of his performance, he scorns to suggest any apology, where he thinks himself entitled to approbation. To be above the temptation of interest is a species of virtue, which we do not find by experience to be very common; but to neglect at the same time all popular and vulgar applause, is an enterprise much more rare and arduous. Whoever, in a factious nation, pays court to neither party, must expect that justice will be done him by time only, perhaps only by a distant posterity.[13:1]
The "Natural History of Religion" above referred to, remarkable even among its author's other works, for the breadth of its research, and its apt union of philosophy with historical detail, was published in 1757, along with three other essays;[13:2] and a curious incident connected with this publication has now to be revealed. In 1783, a work was published in London, called "Essays on Suicide and the Immortality of the Soul, ascribed to the late David Hume, Esq., never before published; with remarks, intended as an antidote to the poison contained in these
performances, by the Editor." The editor and his antidote are now both forgotten: but the style of Hume and his method of thinking were at once recognised in these essays, and they have been incorporated with the general edition of his works. If any doubt attached to the authorship, it would be cleared up by some allusions in his subsequent correspondence, where we shall find him naturally expressing alarm at the circumstance of Wilkes having, through the negligence of Millar, had possession of a copy containing the two suppressed essays. Many copies, indeed, of the first edition of the dissertations bear marks of having been mutilated.[14:1] That Hume wrote these essays, and intended to publish them, is thus an incident in his life which ought not to be passed over; but it is also part of his history, that he repented of the act at the last available moment, and suppressed the publication.
That after the ghastly scene which he witnessed twenty years earlier,[14:2] he should have written on suicide with his usual philosophical indifference, and contempt for the prevalent sentiments and feelings of mankind, is a remarkable proof how little he was liable to ordinary imaginative impressions; how completely he was free of subjection to those
"lords of the visionary eye, whose lid