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but that he must have foreseen, not only the poffibility, but the high probability, of its taking place in the world, and yet he fuffered it to do fo: yea, fo far was he from preventing ic, that it seems as though fome of the most important measures of his conduct were formed, upon the supposition of its actual being in · e universe.

• This is the objection urged at large, and, I think, in its full force, against the creation and government of an ipfinitely holy and benevolent Being.'

After having encountered this objection with considerable address, he recapitulates as follows :

• The fum of the whole argument is this, that the connection of an happiness with moral irregularity is a means wisely adapted to operate powerfully upon rational moral agents, to reduce them to a right conduct, if they have been faulty, and to preferve them inviolable in their attachment to virtue, if they bave been innocent: infomuch, that it may be owing to this con. nection, there is fo much order and happiness in the intelligent creation ; of both which, had not this connection been conftituted, there would undoubtedly have been much less than there now is, and has all along been. The consequence wherefrom is, that this provision, fitted for the production of so much good, is fo far from being inconfiftent with benevolence, that it is a Atrong indication of it. And whereas the sufferings of the virtuous, by the wickedness of the vicious, are great and try. ing; these also, upon fuppofition of another state (which cannot be proved to be an unreasonable, much less an impossible one; may be, in the end, for their advantage; as they are capable of being improved so as that the fruit, upon the whole, shall be more happiness than if these sufferings had not been endured : and if they may possibly be a means to produce greater good, they cannot prove a deficiency in the benevolence of the Deity, but are rather an argument ia proof that he is endowed with this attribute.

• I have now offered what I had to say in iHlustration of the consistency between infinite benevolence, and moral irregularity, together with all its consequent unhappiness. And I see not, upon the review, but

the reasoning employed to this purpose is ftri&ly conclufive. God having created free agents, it appears, from what has been discoursed, that they are the proper and sole caufes of all the moral disorder that is conplained of, and not the Deity:; who has done every thing that he could, in confiftency with reason and wisdom, not only to prevent their abuse of their faculties, but to promote their improvement of them so as to attain to the higheft perfection and happiness: and further, that the very evils he has conrected with their voluntary misconduct, are kindly intended, and wisely adapted, to bring about their best good, and will cere tainly do it, if it is not their own fault. So that, upon the


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whole, it cannot be conceived, what the Deity could have done more, in a wife and rational method of operation, to have made intelligent moral beings, in all their various orders, as happy as their original capacities would allow of: which is as much as can be expected, even from benevolence that is infinite.'

The author concludes his work with the statement of the objection of natural evil.

• It now remains, says he, to consider the third and last objection to the infinite benevolence of the Deity. And this is taken from the natural evils, common to all perceiving beings, in this world of our's, in all their classes, from the highest to the lowest ; such as pains, diseases, and disasters, in various kinds and degrees; and, at last, death, moftly accompanied with diffress, and sometimes with aggravated circumstances of misery and torment. And the complaint upon thiş head is, that these evils are not only permitted by the Deity, but were, in a sense, appointed; as being the effect of that constitution of things, which he contrived, and established, and has all along upheld: nay, it is urged, with respect to fome of these evils, as to their kind, if not degree, that the Deity intended they fould take place, and originally endowed the creatures with such natures, as that a liableness to them was absolutely peceffary. And would an infinitely benevolent Being, say the movers of this objection, have brought creatures into exitence under such circumstances, subjected, by the very laws of their nature, to pain and misery? Does this look like the doing of supremely perfect goodness? Can it be supposed that such a ftate of things could have been, if originally planned, and all along conducted by a Being essentially, and infinitely kind and

good ?

Our readers muft have recourse to the work for the full an. swer to the preceding quotation ; but the following paffage from the recapitulation may serve to convey its outlinë.

Upon the whole that has been said, in relation to natural evil, it appears, either that it could not have been prevented in such a world as our's; or, that it is miscalled evil, being rather the contrivance of wisdom in order to the production of more good than there otherwise would have been. It is conceded a better world than this, more perfect, and more powerfully adapted to make happy, might be created by the Deity; but then it ought to be remembered, such a better world may be already one of the links in the diversified chain of existence, The only proper question, therefore, is, whether the making fuch a world as this, is not a proof of more benevolence, than a chasm would be in that part of the creation, which it now occupies ? if so, imperfect as it is, comparatively speaking, it is better it should be, than not be. And, for such an imperfect world as this ought to be, in an indefinļtely variegated creaation, in order to its being a proper part in the chain of exist. ence, no alteration, it may be, notwithstanding all the complaints that have been made of deficiencies, redundances, deformities, and evils, could be made without damage to the fyftein. It in some things, absolutely viewed, an alteration for the better might be supposed, yet this very alteration, confia dered, as it ought to be, in relation to other paris, which, as truly as these, go to the conftitution of the whole, it might turn out greatly to its disadvantage.'

Though we cannot dismiss this article without acknowledging the ability with which Dr. Chauncy has treated his subject, we think his success might have been more complete had ne, in endeavouring to account for the origin of evil, taken into confideration all the divine attributes; as perhaps they are always too closely connected in the administration of the universe to be, on any occasion, juftly considered apart.

The ftyle of this treatise is, in general, clear and unaffeled, though nor elegant. We meet with some uncouth words ; such as beflowment, exertment, lengi hy, enlargedness, preparedness; which we cannot account for on any other supposition than that of their being current in America. There are also a few exceptionable phrales and constructions; for instance, kappify life in his creatures; a general touch upon a topic ; suitable for any thing, instead of to it; an incapable fubject of happiness, for a subjed incapable of kappiness; and a few more. — These triling ble. mithes may be eally removed in a future edition.


I.'Ami de l'Adolefcence. Par 11. Berquin. 3 Tomes. Pour les

Mois de Septembre, Oétobre, & Áovembre. Paris. HOUGH these three volumes are the only one which we

have yet received, yet we think it neceffary to mention them, as we may contribute to render thein more generally known. Moni Berquin has already publin:ed · L'Ami des Enfans' of which this is a continuation, adapted to more ma. ture years. The former work is now so well kuown in England that, furrounded as we are hy eager claiman's for our notice, it may with propriety be omitted. It was concluded about the middle of last year, and now consists of twenty-tour voluines, which are advertised in Paris at twenty-lix livres cight fous (little more than a guinea.) The volumes before us conliit each of two numbers, published on the first and fifteenth of the month; they are more generally interesting than the Infants Manual, and may be read with pleature by perfons of every age.


The author, in the preface, prontifes a votuine each month, of which the one part is to contin tales, dialogues, and plays; the other, fome instruction, in an agreeable form, fuitc to the intermediate state betyeen infancy and manhood. But, in fact, the alternate volumest té on different subjects, and the two parts of each are of a kinilit kin. * All's Kat I afk, in return for my trouble and anxiéey;" lays our bénevolent author, and what I think friendhip yives me fome right to demand, is, that my readers will fome:inies excufe a little delay, which may occaa fionally happen, in spite of my hopes and withies to serve them with regularity. I beg them to confider, thae I have indifferent health, which, together with my pleafures, I might be contented to sacrifice; but I cannot fo-cafily ficrifice to a trilling impa. rience, the ambition I feel, to present my work in the moit agreeable fom, and to adapt it to the views of their parents.' The most eager impetuofity must rerráin her wishes, after an apoJogy fo candid and interesting. We fia: Il felect, as a fort fpecimen of the work, part of the arft tale, entitled 'The Thconftant.

ZEPHIR I'N DE ST. LEGER it is born with a ready memory, air active penetrating genius, and a lively fruitful imagination. For. tune feemed willing to crown these plealing promises, by giving him parents, whose most eager with was' to cultivate the happy difpofition bestowed by nature. Anexrreine quick nefs in catching the first elen.ents of knowlege, had advanced him in his early age ; and he already joined agrecable talents to his instructiop.

One day, when he went to see one of his companions, he found him employed in copying a Roman head, of which the great character struck him very forcibly: as fait as his friend formed the traits on his canvas, Zephirin felt his imagination warmed. The light of some pieces of the same kind, which hung in the closet, completed an enthufiafin, as strong as Raphael might have felt, the first time that he touched a pencil.

• He ran home, and met his father on the, he fell on his neck, begging him to return, and enquire for a drawingmaiter. His father, overjoyed with his ardour, yielded readily to his request, and they went together to one of the most cele. brated artists. Zephirin' would have been well pleafed if the mafter had abandoned all his pupils to attend him only, from morning to night. Since he could not obtain this facrifice, he at least insisted on the leffon continuing two full hours each day. He could not conceive why every instant was not employed in cultivating fo ingenious an art.

• His master could only come the next morning. I cannot tell you how many figures he drew before the end of the evening. All his loose papers were already covered with characteristic heads. You will affuredly pardon him for not at first bestowing that correctness, which arises only from long practice. There was, for instance, a large eye, answering to a small one. The nose sometimes started from the middle of the face, and the ear 'came to hearken to the mouth, or the mouth to bite the ear,


across the swell of the cheek; but, independent of these little faults, his outline had all the correctness that you could wish.

• He had prepared a vast book of the largest paper which he could procure in the town. This space was soon too confined to hold the number of eyes, ears, arms,

anda legs, which he drew under the direction of his maiter. Greenwich Hofpital would have found there excellent models to supply the deficiencies of its respectable inhabitants. His natural impatience was a little checked by the fameness of these first studies, to which he was rigorously confined, in the leffons designed to fix his hand. But, when alone, he freed himself from the flowness of his career, by endeavouring to form in his mind great pictures. The walls of the granary had been whitewashed, he therefore thought of retracing, on them, the Roman history which he had just read. Indeed, at the end of eight days, he had drawn out with charcoal, a beautiful collection of heads of tribunes, busts of con. fuls, of dictators on foot, and emperors on horseback; and I do not doubt but, if the names had been written under them, to complete the resemblance, fome antiquary would, from this gallery, have been able to compose a crowd of interesting memoirs.

• He purposed to draw, with the same spirit, the progress of our monarchy, when he found, one day, his work effaced by the domestics, who pretended that these Roman heroes frightened the cats, and had no effect on the rats. This misfortune had cooled a little his ardour : the vexation to see himself ftill at such a distance from his friend, whom he expected to have excelled on the first attempt, checked his fancy. He foon began to fear foiling his tingers with his pencil, or breaking the edge of his knife with shaping it. His master, who had at first so much trouble in moderating his eagerness, had much more in encouraging it. In vain he related the marvellous effects of painting, and some interesting anecdotes in the lives of great artists. He had brought him a pupil, just returned from Rome, to tell him of the superb pictures which he had ftudied in Italy. In expressing his admiration, the young stranger used. Italian words, as more ready, or better suited to express his thoughts. These founds, new to the ear of Zephirin, had scarcely struck him, when he thought it much more agreeable to speak a living language, than to draw heads, which, though expressive, could never speak. He ran to cominunicate his reflection to his father, who saw him with concerii decline an agreeable emplayment, which he so earnestly wished for ; but he was not willing to oppose his new taste, and the day after, Zephirin had an Italian master instead of the former,

• L'owe him this public justice, that the first days his progress was unremitted. All the difficulties of grammar yielded to his penetration. He doated on a language fo full of softness and harmony. He constantly spoke it to every one in the house, without knowing whether they understood it. The cook was called Vostra Signoria, and the porter Çor mio. The Italian tranliation of Telemachus, was become almost as familiar as the

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