id="id00041">On grounds no more solid than this, charges of Atheism are often erected by 'surpliced sophists.' Rather ridiculous have been the mistakes committed by some of them in their hurry to affix on objects of their hate the brand of Impiety. Those persons, no doubt, supposed themselves privileged to write or talk any amount of nonsense and contradiction. Men who fancy themselves commissioned by Deity to interpret his 'mysteries,' or announce his 'will,' are apt to make blunders without being sensible of it; as did those worthy Jesuits who declared, in opposition to Bayle, that a society of Atheists was impossible, and at the same time assured the world that the government of China was a society of Atheists. So difficult it is for men inflamed by prejudices, interests, and animosities, to keep clear of sophisms, which can impose on none but themselves.

Many Universalists conceal their sentiments on account of the odium which would certainly be their reward did they avow them. But the unpopularity of those sentiments cannot, by persons of sense and candour, be allowed, in itself, a sufficient reason for their rejection. The fact of an opinion being unpopular is no proof it is false. The argument from general consent is at best a suspicious one for the truth of any opinion or the validity of any practice. History proves that the generality of men are the slaves of prejudice, the sport of custom, and foes most bigoted to such opinions concerning religion as have not been drawn in from their sucking-bottles, or 'hatched within the narrow fences of their own conceit.'

Every day experience demonstrates the fallibility of majorities. It palpably exhibits, too, the danger as well as folly of presuming the unpopularity of certain speculative opinions an evidence of their untruth. A public intellect, untainted by gross superstition, can nowhere be appealed to. Even in this favoured country, 'the envy of surrounding nations and admiration of the world,' the multitude are anything but patterns of moral purity and intellectual excellence. They who assure us vox populi 'is the voice of God,' are fairly open to the charge of ascribing to Him what orthodox pietists inform us exclusively belongs to the Father of Evil. If by 'voice of God' is meant something different from noisy ebullitions of anger, intemperance, and fanaticism, they who would have us regulate our opinions in conformity therewith are respectfully requested to reconcile mob philosophy with the sober dictates of experience, and mob law with the law of reason.

A writer in the Edinburgh Review [12:1] assures us the majority of every nation consists of rude uneducated masses, ignorant, intolerant, suspicious, unjust, and uncandid, without the sagacity which discovers what is right, or the intelligence which comprehends it when pointed out, or the morality which requires it to be done. And yet religious philosophers are fond of quoting the all but universal horror of Universalism as a formidable argument against that much misunderstood creed!

The least reflection will suffice to satisfy any reasonable man that the speculative notions of rude, uneducated masses, so faithfully described by the Scotch Reviewer, are, for the most part, grossly absurd and consequently the reverse of true. If the masses of all nations are ignorant, intolerant, suspicious, unjust, and uncandid, without the sagacity which discovers what is right, or the intelligence which comprehends it when pointed out, or the morality which requires it to be done, who with the least shadow of claim to be accounted reasonable will assert that a speculative heresy is the worse for being unpopular, or that an opinion is false, and must be demoralising in its influence, because the majority of mankind declare it so.

I would not have it inferred from the foregoing remarks that horror of Universalism, and detestation of its apostles, is confined to the low, the vulgar, the base, or the illiterate. Any such inference would be wrong, for it is certainly true that learned, benevolent, and very able Christian writers, have signalised themselves in the work of obstructing the progress of Universalism by denouncing its principles, and imputing all manner of wickedness to its defenders. It must, indeed, be admitted that their conduct in this particular amply justifies pious Matthew Henry's confession that 'of all the Christian graces, zeal is most apt to turn sour.'

One John Ryland, A.M., of Northampton, published a 'Preceptor, or General Repository of useful information, very necessary for the various ages and departments of life,' in which 'pride and lust, a corrupt pride of heart, and a furious filthy lust of body,' are announced as the Atheist's 'springs of action,' 'desire to act the beast without control, and live like a devil without a check of conscience,' his only 'reasons for opposing the existence of God,' in which he is told 'a world of creatures are up in arms against him to kill him as they would a venomous mad dog,' in which, among other hard names, he is called 'absurd fool,' 'beast,' 'dirty monster,' 'brute,' 'gloomy dark animal,' 'enemy of mankind,' 'wolf to civil society,' 'butcher and murderer of the human race,' in which, moreover, he is cursed in the following hearty terms;—'Let the glorious mass of fire burn him, let the moon light him to the gallows, let the stars in their courses fight against the Atheist, let the force of the comets dash him to pieces, let the roar of thunders strike him deaf, let red lightnings blast his guilty soul, let the sea lift up her mighty waves to bury him, let the lion tear him to pieces, let dogs devour him, let the air poison him, let the next crumb of bread choke him, nay, let the dull ass spurn him to death.'

This is a notable specimen of zeal turned sour.

Bishop Hall was a Divine of solid learning and unquestionable piety, whose memory is reverenced by a large and most respectable part of the Christian world. He ranked amongst the best of his class, and, generally speaking, was so little disposed to persecute his opponents because of their heterodox opinions, that he wrote and published a "Treatise on Moderation," in the course of which he eloquently condemns the practice of regulating, or, rather, attempting to regulate opinion by act of parliament; yet, incredible as it may appear, in that very Treatise he applauds Calvin on account of his conduct towards Servetus. Our authority for this statement is not 'Infidel' but Christian—the authority of Evans, who, after noticing the Treatise in question, says, 'he (Bishop Hall) has discussed the subject with that ability which is peculiar to all his writings. But this great and good man, towards the close of the same Treatise, forgetting the principles which he had been inculcating, devotes one solitary page to the cause of intolerance: this page he concludes with these remarkable expressions: "Master Calvin did well approve himself to God's Church in bringing Servetus to the stake in Geneva."

Remarkable, indeed! and what is the moral that they point? To me they are indicative of the startling truth, that neither eloquence nor learning, nor faith in God and his Scripture, nor all three combined, are incompatible with the cruelest spirit of persecution. The Treatise on Moderation will stand an everlasting memorial against its author, whose fine intellect, spoiled by superstitious education, urged him to approve a deed, the bare remembrance of which ought to excite in every breast, feelings of horror and indignation. That such a man should declare the aim of Universalists is 'to dethrone God and destroy man,' is not surprising. From genuine bigots they have no right to expect mercy. He who applauded the bringing of Servetus to the stake must have deemed their utter extermination a religious duty.

That our street and field preaching Christians, with very few exceptions, heartily