The Works of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke, Vol. I. | Page 6

desired to see the
characters and passions of mankind delineated; in short, all who
consider such things as philosophy, and require some of them at least in
every philosophical work, all these were certainly disappointed; they
found the landmarks of science precisely in their former places: and
they thought they received but a poor recompense for this
disappointment, in seeing every mode of religion attacked in a lively
manner, and the foundation of every virtue, and of all government,
sapped with great art and much ingenuity. What advantage do we
derive from such writings? What delight can a man find in employing a
capacity which might be usefully exerted for the noblest purposes, in a
sort of sullen labor, in which, if the author could succeed, he is obliged
to own, that nothing could be more fatal to mankind than his success?
I cannot conceive how this sort of writers propose to compass the
designs they pretend to have in view, by the instruments which they
employ. Do they pretend to exalt the mind of man, by proving him no
better than a beast? Do they think to enforce the practice of virtue, by
denying that vice and virtue are distinguished by good or ill fortune
here, or by happiness or misery hereafter? Do they imagine they shall
increase our piety, and our reliance on God, by exploding his
providence, and insisting that he is neither just nor good? Such are the
doctrines which, sometimes concealed, sometimes openly and fully
avowed, are found to prevail throughout the writings of Lord
Bolingbroke; and such are the reasonings which this noble writer and
several others have been pleased to dignify with the name of
philosophy. If these are delivered in a specious manner, and in a style
above the common, they cannot want a number of admirers of as much
docility as can be wished for in disciples. To these the editor of the
following little piece has addressed it: there is no reason to conceal the
design of it any longer.
The design was to show that, without the exertion of any considerable
forces, the same engines which were employed for the destruction of
religion, might be employed with equal success for the subversion of
government; and that specious arguments might be used against those

things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to
be questioned. It is an observation which I think Isocrates makes in one
of his orations against the sophists, that it is far more easy to maintain a
wrong cause, and to support paradoxical opinions to the satisfaction of
a common auditory, than to establish a doubtful truth by solid and
conclusive arguments. When men find that something can be said in
favor of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly
indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason; they are thrown
into a sort of pleasing surprise; they run along with the speaker,
charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning,
where all seemed barren and unpromising. This is the fairy land of
philosophy. And it very frequently happens, that those pleasing
impressions on the imagination subsist and produce their effect, even
after the understanding has been satisfied of their unsubstantial nature.
There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods that dazzles the
imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober
aspect of truth. I have met with a quotation in Lord Coke's Reports that
pleased me very much, though I do not know from whence he has taken
it: "Interdum fucata falsitas (says he), _in multis est probabilior, at
sæpe rationibus vincit nudam veritatem_." In such cases the writer has
a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that, let
it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of
applause; and this alacrity becomes much greater if he acts upon the
offensive, by the impetuosity that always accompanies an attack, and
the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to the finding and
exaggerating faults. The editor is satisfied that a mind which has no
restraint from a sense of its own weakness, of its subordinate rank in
the creation, and of the extreme danger of letting the imagination loose
upon some subjects, may very plausibly attack everything the most
excellent and venerable; that it would not be difficult to criticise the
creation itself; and that if we were to examine the divine fabrics by our
ideas of reason and fitness, and to use the same method of attack by
which some men have assaulted revealed religion, we might with as
good color, and with the same success, make the wisdom and power of
God in his creation appear to many no better than foolishness. There is
an air