any opinion whatever; being so far elevated by the system of universal doubt, he strengthens himself equally by his triumph or his defeat.

It is from this position, fluctuating and variable as it is, that he combats with invincible firmness the heretics of his time, on the ground that they assumed, to themselves the exclusive knowledge of the true sense of Scripture; and from thence also he thunders against the horrible impiety of those who dare to say that there is no God. He attacks them, especially in the apoloogy of Raimond de Sebonde, and finding them entirely stripped of the support of a revelation, and abandoned to their natural light, independent of faith, he demands of them on what authority they pretend to judge of this Sovereign Being, whose specific definition is Infinity -they who do not thoroughly know the smallest thing in nature. He asks them on what principles they rest, and presses them to disclose them. He examines all that they can produce; and he goes so deeply by that talent, in which he peculiarly excels, that he shews the vanity of those principles which pass for the clearest and the most established. He inquires if the soul knows any thing; if it knows itself; if it is a substance or an accident, body or spirit; what each of these things is, and if there are not some things which belong not to either of these orders; if the soul knows its own body; if it knows what matter is; how it can reason if it is matter, and how it can be united to a material frame, and feel its passions, if it is purely immaterial? When did its existence commence; with or before the body? Will it terminate with it or not? Does it never deceive itself? Does it know when it is in error? seeing that the very essence of error is not being aware of it. He asks also, If brutes reason, think, or speak? Who can say what is time or space; extension, motion, or unity; all being things by which we are surrounded, but utterly inexplicable? What are health, sickness, death, life, good or evil, justice or transgression: things of which we speak continually? If we have within us the principles of truth, and if those that we believe to

be such, and that we call axioms, or notions common to all men, are really conformed to essential truth? Since we cannot know but by the light of faith, that an infinitely Good Being has really given us these principles, and formed us so as to comprehend truth: who could know without the light of faith, whether we may not be formed by accident; and that consequently, all our notions are uncertain; or, whether we may not be created by a false and wicked being, who has given us these false principles expressly to lead us astray? And thus, he shews that God and the truth are inseparable, and that if one is or is not, if one is certain or uncertain, the other is necessarily the same. Who knows that common sense which we generally regard as the judge of truth, has been appointed to this office by Him who made it? Who knows what is truth? and how can we be sure of possessing it without knowing it? Who knows, in fact, what being is, since it is impossible so to define it, but that there must be something more general; and since it requires, even in the explanation of it, to use the very idea of Being, saying it is such a thing? Since we know not what the soul, the body, time, space, motion, truth, and good are, and even what being is, nor how to explain the idea that we have formed of them; how can we know that the idea is the same in all men? We have no other mark than the uniformity of results, which is not always a sign of uniformity of principles; for they may be very different, and yet lead to the same conclusions; every one knowing that truth may be concluded from falsehood. Then Montaigne examines very deeply the sciences. Geometry, the uncertainty of which he points out in its axioms, and its terms which it does not define, as extension, motion, &c.; physics and medicine, which he depresses in a variety of ways: history, politics,morals, jurisprudence, &c. So that, without revelation, we might believe according to him, that life is a dream, from which we do not wake till death, and during which, we have as few principles of truth as in natural sleep. In this way he attacks so fiercely and so cru

elly reason when unaided by faith, that causing it to doubt whether it is rational or not, and whether the brutes are so or not, or more or less so than men, he brings it down from the excellence that is attributed to it, and places it as a matter of favor on a level with the brutes, without permitting it to rise above that level, till it shall be instructed by its Creator, as to that real rank which belongs to it, and of which it is ignorant? threatening, if it rebels, to place it beneath every thing else, which appears, at least, as easy as the reverse; and not allowing it power to act, except to recognize, with real humility, its feebleness, instead of elevating itself by a false and foolish vanity. We cannot behold but with joy, that in this writer, haughty reason has been so completely battered by its own weapons, to see this deadly struggle between man and man, which, from the association with God, to which he had raised himself by the maxims of feeble reason, hurls him "headlong to the level of the brutes: and we would cordially love the minister of this mighty vengeance, if, as an humble, believing disciple of the church, he had followed the rules of its morality, and taught man whom he had so beneficially humbled, no longer to irritate, by fresh crimes, Him who alone could redeem him from those already committed, and which evils God had already convinced him, that man had not the power to discover. But, on the contrary, he acts like a heathen. Look at his moral system.

From this principle, that independent of faith, all is uncertainty; and from the consideration, how large a portion of time has been spent in seeing the true good, without any progress towards tranquillity; he concludes, that we should leave this care to others; resting, in the meantime, in a state of repose, and touching lightly on these subjects, lest we sink by pressure; that we should admit truth and the true good upon the first glance, without examining too closely, because they are so far from solid, that however little we grasp the hand, they escape between our fingers, and leave it empty. He follows, then, the report of the

senses, and the prevailing notions, because to deny them, would be to do violence to himself, and he knows not in his ignorance of truth, if he would be the gainer by it. He avoids also pain and death, because his instinct shuns them, and yet for the same reason as before, he would not resist them. But he does not trust himself too much to these emotions of fear, and does not venture to conclude that pain and death are real evils; since we discover also emotions of pleasure which we condemn as evil, though nature affirms the contrary. "So that," says he, "I have nothing extravagant in my conduct. I do as others do: and all that they do under the foolish notion that they are seeking the true good, I do from another principle, which is that the probabilities on both sides being equal, example and my own convenience lead me." He adopts the manners of his country, because custom leads him; he mounts his horse and rides, because the horse allows it, but without regarding it as a matter of right; on the contrary, he does not know but that the horse has a right to ride him. He even does violence to himself, in order to avoid certain vices; he preserves matrimonial fidelity, on account of the annoyance resulting from irregularities, the real object of all his actions being convenience and tranquillity. He utterly rejects that Stoical virtue, which is delineated with a sour countenance, and a frowning brow, with hair disheveled, and her forehead wiinkled with care, and sitting in a painful attitude, in solitude and in silence on the top of a rock, an object fit only, as he says, to frighten youth, and doing nothing but seeking with unremitted toil for rest, where rest can never come; whilst, on the other hand, virtue, according to his notion, is ingenuous, open, pleasant, gay, and even sportive: she follows that which pleases her and negligently trifles with the events of life, whether good or bad; the nestles luxuriously in the bosom of a quiet indolence, from whence she teaches those who seek so restlessly after happiness, that it is to be found no where but in the shrine where she reposes: and that, as he

says, ignorance and indifference are the downy pillows for a well-made head.

3. On reading Montaigne, and comparing him with Epictetus, we cannot dissemble a conviction, that they / were the two greatest defenders of the two most celebrated sects of the unbelieving world, and that they are the only persons among the varieties of men destitute of the light of true religion, who are in any degree rational and consistent. In fact, without revelation, what could we do but follow one or the other of these systems? The first system is, There is a God, then he has created man; he has created him for him. self; he has made him such as he ought to be, to be just, and to become happy. Then man may attain to the knowledge of truth; and it is within his range to elevate himself by wisdom, even to God himself who is the sovereign good. The other system is, Man cannot elevate himself to God; his native tendencies are contrary to God's law; his tendency is to seek happiness in visible things, and even in those which are most disgraceful. Every thing then appears uncertain, even the true good itself; and we are reduced to such a state, that we appear to have neither a fixed rule for morals, nor certainty in matters of science.

There is much pleasure in observing in these different lines of reasoning, in what respects men on either side have discovered any traces of that truth which they have endeavored to seek. For if it is pleasant to observe in nature, the effort to shew forth God in the works of his hands, where some marks of him are seen, because those works are his image; how much more justifiable are the efforts of the human mind to arrive at truth, and the endeavour to ascertain in what respects they attain to it, and in what they go astray. This is the chief benefit to be derived from reading Montaigne's writings.

It would seem that the source of error in Epictetus, and the Stoics on one side, and of Montaigne and the Epicureans on the other, is the not having known that