natural operation. For a creature possessed of such an immoderate degree of passion, must of necessity allow too much to that one, and too little to others of the same character, and equally natural and useful as to their end. And this must necessarily be the occasion of partiality and injustice, whilst only one duty or natural part is earnestly followed, and other parts or duties neglected, which should accompany it, and perhaps take place and be preferred.

P. 89. Now as in particular cases, public affection, on the one hand, may be too high; so private affection may, on the other hand, be too weak. For if a creature be self-neglectful, and insensible of danger; or if he want such a degree of passion in any kind, as is useful to preserve, sustain, or defend himself, this must certainly be esteemed virtuous, in regard of the design and end of Nature. She herself discovers this in her own method and stated rule of operation.

P. 91. It may be objected here, that the having the natural affections too strong, (where the self affections are overmuch so) or the having the self affections defective or weak, (where the natural affections are also weak,) may prove upon occasion the only cause of a creature's acting honestly and in moral proportion. For thus, one who is to a fault regardless of his life, may with the smallest degree of natural affection, do all which can be expected from the highest pitch of social love, or zealous friendship. And thus, on the other hand, a creature excessively timorous may, by as exceeding a degree of natural affection, perform whatever the most perfect courage is able to inspire.

To this it is answered, that whenever we arraign any passion as too strong, or complain of any as too weak, we must speak with respect to a certain constitution or economy of a particular creature or species. For if a passion, leading to any right end, be only so much the more serviceable and effectual, for being strong; if we may be assured that the strength of it will not be the occasion of any disturbance within, nor of any disproportion between itself and other affections; then consequently the passion, however strong, cannot be condemned as vicious. But if to have all the passions in equal proportion with it, be what the constitution of the creature cannot bear; so that only some passions are raised to this height, whilst others are not, nor can possibly be wrought up to the same proportion; then may those strong passions, though of the better kind, be called excessive. For being in unequal proportion to the others, and causing an ill balance in the affection at large, they must of course be the occasion of inequality in the conduct, and incline the party to a wrong moral practice.

P. 101. The pleasures of the mind being allowed superior to those of the body, it follows, "That whatever can create in any intelligent being a constant flowing series or train of mental

enjoyments, or pleasures of the mind, is more considerable to his happiness, than that which can create to him a like constant course or train of sensual enjoyments, or pleasures of the body."

Now the mental enjoyments are either actually the very natural affections themselves in their immediate operation; or they wholly in a manner proceed from them, and are no other than their effects.

If so, it follows that the natural affections, duly established in a rational creature, being the only means which can procure him a constant series or succession of the mental enjoyments, they are the only means which can procure him a certain and solid happiness.

Now, in the first place, to explain, "How much the natural affections are in themselves the highest pleasures and enjoyments;" there should, methinks, be little need of proving this to any one of human kind, who has ever known the condition of the mind under a lively affection of love, gratitude, bounty, generosity, pity, succour, or whatever else is of a social and friendly sort. He who has ever so little knowledge of human nature, is sensible what pleasure the mind perceives when it is touched in this generous way. The difference we find between solitude and company, between a common company and that of friends; the reference of almost all our pleasures to mutual converse, and the dependence they have of society, either present or imagined, all these are sufficient proofs in our behalf.

How much the social pleasures are superior to any other, may be known by visible tokens and effects. The very outward features, the marks and signs which attend this sort of joy, are expressive of a more intense, clear, and undisturbed pleasure, than those which attend the satisfaction of thirst, hunger, and other ardent appetites. But more particularly still may this superiority be known, from the actual prevalence and ascendency of this sort of affection over all besides. Wherever it presents itself with any advantage, it silences and appeases every other motion of pleasure. No joy, merely of sense, can be a match for it. Whoever is judge of both the pleasures will ever give the preference to the former. But to be able to judge of both, it is necessary to have a sense of each. The honest man indeed can judge of sensual pleasure, and knows its utmost force. For neither is his taste or sense the duller; but, on the contrary, the more intense and clear, on the account of his temperance, and moderate use of appetite. But the immoral and profligate man can by no means be allowed a good judge of social pleasure, to which he is so mere a stranger by his nature.

Thus the charm of kind affection is superior to all other pleasure, since it has the power of drawing from every other appetite or inclination. And thus in the case of love to the offspring, and

a thousand other instances, the charm is found to operate so strongly on the temper, as, in the midst of other temptations, to render it susceptible of this passion alone, which remains as the master pleasure and conqueror of the rest.

There is no one who, by the least progress in science or learning, has come to know barely the principles of mathematics, but has found, that in the exercise of his mind on the discoveries he there makes, though merely of speculative truths, he receives a pleasure and delight superior to that of sense.

P. 105. But this speculative pleasure, however considerable or valuable it may be, or however superior to any motion of mere sense; must yet be far surpassed by virtuous motion, and the exercise of benignity and goodness; where, together with the most delightful affection of the soul, there is joined a pleasing assent and approbation of the mind to what is acted in this good disposition and honest bent. For where is there on earth a fairer matter of speculation, a goodlier view or contemplation, than that of a beautiful, proportioned, and becoming action? Or what is there relating to us, of which the consciousness and memory is more solidly and lastingly entertaining?

We may observe that in the passion of love between the sexes, where, together with the affection of a vulgar sort, there is a mixture of the kind and friendly, the sense or feeling of this latter is in reality superior to the former; since often through this affection, and for the sake of the person beloved, the greatest hardships in the world have been submitted to, and even death itself voluntarily embraced, without any expected compensation. For where should the ground of such an expectation lie? Not here, in this world surely; for death puts an end to all. Nor yet hereafter, in any other. For who has ever thought of providing a heaven or future recompence for the suffering virtue of lovers? We may observe, withal, in favour of the natural affections, that it is not only when joy and sprightliness are mixed with them, that they carry a real enjoyment above that of the sensual kind. The very disturbances which belong to natural affection, though they may be thought wholly contrary to pleasure, yield still a contentment and satisfaction greater than the pleasures of indulged sense. And where a series of continued succession of the tender and kind affections can be carried on, even through fears, horrors, sorrows, griefs; the emotion of the soul is still agreeable. We continue pleased even with this melancholy aspect or sense of Virtue Her beauty supports itself under a cloud, and in the midst of surrounding calamities.

(To be continued.)

Printed and Published by RICHARD CARLILE, 62, Fleet-street, where all Communications, post paid, or free of expence, are requested to be left.

The Lion.

No. 5. VOL. 4.] LONDON, Friday, July 31, 1829. [PRICE 6d.

Manchester, July 26, 1820.

We spent eight days in Ashton-under-Line, profitably to ourselves and more profitably to the business of our most holy calling and mission. We possessed there every comfort as to dwelling, and every imaginable convenience for our discourses and discussions. Four public orations, with subsequent conversations, one general conversation on the Sunday evening with all comers, two appointed discussions before as many as could crowd to hear us, with Wilson, the metaphysical weaver of Woodhouses, and the weaver of the woof of Swedenborgianism upon the warp of metaphysics, with an oration at Staley Bridge, a reconnoitre at Oldham and Marsden, and after dinner, conversations with the travellers at the Commercial-inn-made up our pastime. A magistrate of the neighbourhood, Captain Clarke, (of the Navy) of Hyde, remonstrated, at the end of a week, with our host; but we were no disturbed in our arrangements. This magisterial Captain left a menace with the landlord of the Commercial-inn, that, he understood, we were coming, and if we did come into his neighbourhood of Hyde, he would soon make us brush. This menace determined our going next to Hyde, though we knew, by information of our friends, that no convenient room could be there found for our business. On Friday, the 24th inst., we sent our luggage to Manchester, and, apostles like, without scrip, and almost without purse, for we knew it would not be wanted, we walked by the canal-side to Hyde. The first thing we did was to hold a council with our friend, Samuel Mercer, as to calling upon and reasoning with, or sending a defiance to Captain Clarke. In consequence of a suitable room presenting itself within a few weeks, it was agreed, that we should defer the at

Printed and Published by R. CARLILE, 62, Fleet Street No. 5.-Vol. 4.

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tempt at an interview with, or any kind of challenge to, the magistrate, until after we had visited Liverpool and a few other adjacent towns. This determined, we passed on three miles farther, to spend, amidst the romantic hill-scenery of Wernoth, a few hours, agreeably to invitation, with the rural philosopher, John Andrew, who feels assured, that he could, if the opportunity were offered, amend the theories and philosophical calculations of Sir Richard Phillips. His theory of material elements is, that there are three passive and two active :—

Passive.

Air.

Water.

Earth.

Active.

Heat, or Light.
Cold.

The conflicting action of the two active upon the three passive elements, makes up his totality of existence. The active element of light or heat, he finds to be intellectual and designing, or what is commonly called the soul of the world. I state the theory without stopping to support or criticise it; though, in the philosopher's company. I did not fail to oppugn his inference as to natural intelligence or design pervading matter, which strikes my mind as the master-error and great source and foundation of all superstitions, constituting a limit to bold and rational inquiry.

To report the discussion with Wilson, will be to report a mass of absurdity. The man knows nothing beyond a few metaphysical phrases on the subject of deity. He knows nothing of history, nothing of the seiences, nothing physical or historical, to make his discourse instructive or pleasing. On the first evening, I strenuously objected to follow him into a metaphysical disquisition; but while he ran his way, I kept to the historical and physical merits of the Christian religion and revelation. It took me two hours to drive him, from the position of a god and a revelation, to the admission that his a god and a revelation was the god and the assumed revelation of the Christians. Once bringing him to this, I opened such a battery of physics and history upon the god and the revelation of the Christian Scriptures, as made him wince again and complain, that I was evading the general question of a god and the necessity and reality of a revelation, and most impudently affirmed that he had beaten me in argument.

Wilson is a man insensible to either shame or argument, but anxious to show so large a company, what a plaything I could make of his state of mind, I invited him to meet me again, with a pledge, that I would follow him into whatever track of discussion he would lead me. This was done effectually on the Thursday evening, and if ever man, as a public disputant, stood like a shallow, silly pretender to knowledge, before a company, that