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Tantissimi classici della letteratura e della cultura politica,
economica e scientifica in lingua inglese con audio di ReadSpeaker e traduttore
automatico interattivo FGA Translate
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Abbe Prevost - MANON LESCAUT
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Alcott, Louisa M. - AN OLDFASHIONED GIRL
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Alcott, Louisa M. - LITTLE MEN
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Alcott, Louisa M. - LITTLE WOMEN
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Alcott, Louisa May - JACK AND JILL
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Alcott, Louisa May - LIFE LETTERS AND JOURNALS
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Andersen, Hans Christian - FAIRY TALES
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Anonimo - BEOWULF
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Ariosto, Ludovico - ORLANDO ENRAGED
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Aurelius, Marcus - MEDITATIONS
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Austen, Jane - EMMA
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Austen, Jane - MANSFIELD PARK
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Austen, Jane - NORTHANGER ABBEY
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Austen, Jane - PERSUASION
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Austen, Jane - PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
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Austen, Jane - SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
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Authors, Various - LETTERS OF ABELARD AND HELOISE
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Authors, Various - SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS
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Autori Vari - THE WORLD ENGLISH BIBLE
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Bacon, Francis - THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING
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Balzac, Honore de - EUGENIE GRANDET
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Balzac, Honore de - FATHER GORIOT
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Baroness Orczy - THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
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Barrie, J. M. - PETER AND WENDY
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Barrie, James M. - PETER PAN
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Bierce, Ambrose - THE DEVIL'S DICTIONARY
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Blake, William - SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE
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Boccaccio, Giovanni - DECAMERONE
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Brent, Linda - INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL
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Bronte, Charlotte - JANE EYRE
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Bronte, Charlotte - VILLETTE
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Buchan, John - GREENMANTLE
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Buchan, John - MR STANDFAST
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Buchan, John - THE 39 STEPS
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Bunyan, John - THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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Burckhardt, Jacob - THE CIVILIZATION OF THE RENAISSANCE IN ITALY
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Burnett, Frances H. - A LITTLE PRINCESS
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Burnett, Frances H. - LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY
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Burnett, Frances H. - THE SECRET GARDEN
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Butler, Samuel - EREWHON
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Carlyle, Thomas - PAST AND PRESENT
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Carlyle, Thomas - THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
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Cellini, Benvenuto - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
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Cervantes - DON QUIXOTE
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Chaucer, Geoffrey - THE CANTERBURY TALES
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Chesterton, G. K. - A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLAND
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Chesterton, G. K. - THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE
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Chesterton, G. K. - THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN
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Chesterton, G. K. - THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
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Chesterton, G. K. - THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY
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Chesterton, G. K. - THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
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Chesterton, G. K. - TWELVE TYPES
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Chesterton, G. K. - WHAT I SAW IN AMERICA
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Chesterton, Gilbert K. - HERETICS
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Chopin, Kate - AT FAULT
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Chopin, Kate - BAYOU FOLK
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Chopin, Kate - THE AWAKENING AND SELECTED SHORT STORIES
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Clark Hall, John R. - A CONCISE ANGLOSAXON DICTIONARY
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Clarkson, Thomas - AN ESSAY ON THE SLAVERY AND COMMERCE OF THE HUMAN SPECIES
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Clausewitz, Carl von - ON WAR
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Coleridge, Herbert - A DICTIONARY OF THE FIRST OR OLDEST WORDS IN THE ENGLISH
LANGUAGE
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Coleridge, S. T. - COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
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Coleridge, S. T. - HINTS TOWARDS THE FORMATION OF A MORE COMPREHENSIVE THEORY
OF LIFE
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Coleridge, S. T. - THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER
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Collins, Wilkie - THE MOONSTONE
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Collodi - PINOCCHIO
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Conan Doyle, Arthur - A STUDY IN SCARLET
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Conan Doyle, Arthur - MEMOIRS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
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Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES
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Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
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Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE SIGN OF THE FOUR
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Conrad, Joseph - HEART OF DARKNESS
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Conrad, Joseph - LORD JIM
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Conrad, Joseph - NOSTROMO
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Conrad, Joseph - THE NIGGER OF THE NARCISSUS
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Conrad, Joseph - TYPHOON
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Crane, Stephen - LAST WORDS
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Crane, Stephen - MAGGIE
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Crane, Stephen - THE RED BADGE OF COURAGE
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Crane, Stephen - WOUNDS IN THE RAIN
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Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: HELL
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Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: PARADISE
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Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: PURGATORY
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Darwin, Charles - THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF CHARLES DARWIN
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Darwin, Charles - THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES
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Defoe, Daniel - A GENERAL HISTORY OF THE PYRATES
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Defoe, Daniel - A JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR
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Defoe, Daniel - CAPTAIN SINGLETON
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Defoe, Daniel - MOLL FLANDERS
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Defoe, Daniel - ROBINSON CRUSOE
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Defoe, Daniel - THE COMPLETE ENGLISH TRADESMAN
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Defoe, Daniel - THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE
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Deledda, Grazia - AFTER THE DIVORCE
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Dickens, Charles - A CHRISTMAS CAROL
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Dickens, Charles - A TALE OF TWO CITIES
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Dickens, Charles - BLEAK HOUSE
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Dickens, Charles - DAVID COPPERFIELD
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Dickens, Charles - DONBEY AND SON
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Dickens, Charles - GREAT EXPECTATIONS
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Dickens, Charles - HARD TIMES
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Dickens, Charles - LETTERS VOLUME 1
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Dickens, Charles - LITTLE DORRIT
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Dickens, Charles - MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT
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Dickens, Charles - NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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Dickens, Charles - OLIVER TWIST
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Dickens, Charles - OUR MUTUAL FRIEND
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Dickens, Charles - PICTURES FROM ITALY
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Dickens, Charles - THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD
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Dickens, Charles - THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP
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Dickens, Charles - THE PICKWICK PAPERS
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Dickinson, Emily - POEMS
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Dostoevsky, Fyodor - CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
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Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV
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Du Maurier, George - TRILBY
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Dumas, Alexandre - THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO
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Dumas, Alexandre - THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK
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Dumas, Alexandre - THE THREE MUSKETEERS
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Eliot, George - DANIEL DERONDA
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Eliot, George - MIDDLEMARCH
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Eliot, George - SILAS MARNER
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Eliot, George - THE MILL ON THE FLOSS
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Engels, Frederick - THE CONDITION OF THE WORKING-CLASS IN ENGLAND IN 1844
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Equiano - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
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Esopo - FABLES
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Fenimore Cooper, James - THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
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Fielding, Henry - TOM JONES
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France, Anatole - THAIS
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France, Anatole - THE GODS ARE ATHIRST
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France, Anatole - THE LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC
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France, Anatole - THE SEVEN WIVES OF BLUEBEARD
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Frank Baum, L. - THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ
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Frank Baum, L. - THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ
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Franklin, Benjamin - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
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Frazer, James George - THE GOLDEN BOUGH
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Freud, Sigmund - DREAM PSYCHOLOGY
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Galsworthy, John - COMPLETE PLAYS
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Galsworthy, John - STRIFE
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Galsworthy, John - STUDIES AND ESSAYS
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Galsworthy, John - THE FIRST AND THE LAST
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Galsworthy, John - THE FORSYTE SAGA
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Galsworthy, John - THE LITTLE MAN
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Galsworthy, John - THE SILVER BOX
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Galsworthy, John - THE SKIN GAME
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Gaskell, Elizabeth - CRANFORD
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Gaskell, Elizabeth - MARY BARTON
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Gaskell, Elizabeth - NORTH AND SOUTH
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Gaskell, Elizabeth - THE LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE
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Gay, John - THE BEGGAR'S OPERA
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Gentile, Maria - THE ITALIAN COOK BOOK
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Gilbert and Sullivan - PLAYS
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Goethe - FAUST
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Gogol - DEAD SOULS
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Goldsmith, Oliver - SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
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Goldsmith, Oliver - THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD
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Grahame, Kenneth - THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
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Grimm, Brothers - FAIRY TALES
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Harding, A. R. - GINSENG AND OTHER MEDICINAL PLANTS
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Hardy, Thomas - A CHANGED MAN AND OTHER TALES
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Hardy, Thomas - FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD
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Hardy, Thomas - JUDE THE OBSCURE
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Hardy, Thomas - TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES
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Hardy, Thomas - THE MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE
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Hartley, Cecil B. - THE GENTLEMEN'S BOOK OF ETIQUETTE
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Hawthorne, Nathaniel - LITTLE MASTERPIECES
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Hawthorne, Nathaniel - THE SCARLET LETTER
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Henry VIII - LOVE LETTERS TO ANNE BOLEYN
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Henry, O. - CABBAGES AND KINGS
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Henry, O. - SIXES AND SEVENS
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Henry, O. - THE FOUR MILLION
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Henry, O. - THE TRIMMED LAMP
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Henry, O. - WHIRLIGIGS
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Hindman Miller, Gustavus - TEN THOUSAND DREAMS INTERPRETED
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Hobbes, Thomas - LEVIATHAN
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Homer - THE ILIAD
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Homer - THE ODYSSEY
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Hornaday, William T. - THE EXTERMINATION OF THE AMERICAN BISON
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Hume, David - A TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE
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Hume, David - AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
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Hume, David - DIALOGUES CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION
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Ibsen, Henrik - A DOLL'S HOUSE
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Ibsen, Henrik - AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE
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Ibsen, Henrik - GHOSTS
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Ibsen, Henrik - HEDDA GABLER
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Ibsen, Henrik - JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN
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Ibsen, Henrik - ROSMERHOLM
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Ibsen, Henrik - THE LADY FROM THE SEA
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Ibsen, Henrik - THE MASTER BUILDER
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Ibsen, Henrik - WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN
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Irving, Washington - THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
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James, Henry - ITALIAN HOURS
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James, Henry - THE ASPERN PAPERS
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James, Henry - THE BOSTONIANS
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James, Henry - THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY
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James, Henry - THE TURN OF THE SCREW
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James, Henry - WASHINGTON SQUARE
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Jerome, Jerome K. - THREE MEN IN A BOAT
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Jerome, Jerome K. - THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
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Jevons, Stanley - POLITICAL ECONOMY
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Johnson, Samuel - A GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH TONGUE
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Jonson, Ben - THE ALCHEMIST
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Jonson, Ben - VOLPONE
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Joyce, James - A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN
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Joyce, James - CHAMBER MUSIC
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Joyce, James - DUBLINERS
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Joyce, James - ULYSSES
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Keats, John - ENDYMION
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Keats, John - POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1817
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Keats, John - POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1820
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King James - THE BIBLE
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Kipling, Rudyard - CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS
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Kipling, Rudyard - INDIAN TALES
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Kipling, Rudyard - JUST SO STORIES
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Kipling, Rudyard - KIM
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Kipling, Rudyard - THE JUNGLE BOOK
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Kipling, Rudyard - THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING
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Kipling, Rudyard - THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK
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Lawrence, D. H - THE RAINBOW
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Lawrence, D. H - THE WHITE PEACOCK
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Lawrence, D. H - TWILIGHT IN ITALY
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Lawrence, D. H. - AARON'S ROD
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Lawrence, D. H. - SONS AND LOVERS
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Lawrence, D. H. - THE LOST GIRL
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Lawrence, D. H. - WOMEN IN LOVE
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Lear, Edward - BOOK OF NONSENSE
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Lear, Edward - LAUGHABLE LYRICS
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Lear, Edward - MORE NONSENSE
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Lear, Edward - NONSENSE SONG
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Leblanc, Maurice - ARSENE LUPIN VS SHERLOCK HOLMES
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Leblanc, Maurice - THE ADVENTURES OF ARSENE LUPIN
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Leblanc, Maurice - THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN
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Leblanc, Maurice - THE HOLLOW NEEDLE
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Leblanc, Maurice - THE RETURN OF ARSENE LUPIN
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Lehmann, Lilli - HOW TO SING
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Leroux, Gaston - THE MAN WITH THE BLACK FEATHER
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Leroux, Gaston - THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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Leroux, Gaston - THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA
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London, Jack - MARTIN EDEN
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London, Jack - THE CALL OF THE WILD
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London, Jack - WHITE FANG
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Machiavelli, Nicolo' - THE PRINCE
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Malthus, Thomas - PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION
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Mansfield, Katherine - THE GARDEN PARTY AND OTHER STORIES
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Marlowe, Christopher - THE JEW OF MALTA
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Marryat, Captain - THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST
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Maupassant, Guy De - BEL AMI
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Melville, Hermann - MOBY DICK
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Melville, Hermann - TYPEE
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Mill, John Stuart - PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY
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Milton, John - PARADISE LOST
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Mitra, S. M. - HINDU TALES FROM THE SANSKRIT
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Montaigne, Michel de - ESSAYS
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Montgomery, Lucy Maud - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES
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More, Thomas - UTOPIA
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Nesbit, E. - FIVE CHILDREN AND IT
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Nesbit, E. - THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET
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Nesbit, E. - THE RAILWAY CHILDREN
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Nesbit, E. - THE STORY OF THE AMULET
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Newton, Isaac - OPTICKS
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Nietsche, Friedrich - BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL
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Nietsche, Friedrich - THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
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Nightingale, Florence - NOTES ON NURSING
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Owen, Wilfred - POEMS
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Ozaki, Yei Theodora - JAPANESE FAIRY TALES
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Pascal, Blaise - PENSEES
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Pellico, Silvio - MY TEN YEARS IMPRISONMENT
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Perrault, Charles - FAIRY TALES
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Pirandello, Luigi - THREE PLAYS
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Plato - THE REPUBLIC
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 1
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 2
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 3
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 4
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 5
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Poe, Edgar Allan - THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER
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Potter, Beatrix - THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT
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Proust, Marcel - SWANN'S WAY
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Radcliffe, Ann - A SICILIAN ROMANCE
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Ricardo, David - ON THE PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY AND TAXATION
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Richardson, Samuel - PAMELA
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Rider Haggard, H. - ALLAN QUATERMAIN
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Rider Haggard, H. - KING SOLOMON'S MINES
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Rousseau, J. J. - THE ORIGIN AND FOUNDATION OF INEQUALITY AMONG MANKIND
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Ruskin, John - THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE
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Schiller, Friedrich - THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN
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Schiller, Friedrich - THE PICCOLOMINI
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Schopenhauer, Arthur - THE ART OF CONTROVERSY
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Schopenhauer, Arthur - THE WISDOM OF LIFE
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Scott Fitzgerald, F. - FLAPPERS AND PHILOSOPHERS
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Scott Fitzgerald, F. - TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE
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Scott Fitzgerald, F. - THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED
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Scott Fitzgerald, F. - THIS SIDE OF PARADISE
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Scott, Walter - IVANHOE
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Scott, Walter - QUENTIN DURWARD
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Scott, Walter - ROB ROY
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Scott, Walter - THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR
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Scott, Walter - WAVERLEY
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Sedgwick, Anne Douglas - THE THIRD WINDOW
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Sewell, Anna - BLACK BEAUTY
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Shakespeare, William - COMPLETE WORKS
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Shakespeare, William - HAMLET
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Shakespeare, William - OTHELLO
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Shakespeare, William - ROMEO AND JULIET
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Shelley, Mary - FRANKENSTEIN
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Shelley, Percy Bysshe - A DEFENCE OF POETRY AND OTHER ESSAYS
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Shelley, Percy Bysshe - COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
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Sheridan, Richard B. - THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
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Sienkiewicz, Henryk - QUO VADIS
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Smith, Adam - THE WEALTH OF NATIONS
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Smollett, Tobias - TRAVELS THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY
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Spencer, Herbert - ESSAYS ON EDUCATION AND KINDRED SUBJECTS
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Spyri, Johanna - HEIDI
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Sterne, Laurence - A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
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Sterne, Laurence - TRISTRAM SHANDY
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - ESSAYS IN THE ART OF WRITING
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - KIDNAPPED
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - THE BLACK ARROW
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE
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Stevenson, Robert Louis - TREASURE ISLAND
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Stoker, Bram - DRACULA
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Strindberg, August - LUCKY PEHR
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Strindberg, August - MASTER OLOF
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Strindberg, August - THE RED ROOM
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Strindberg, August - THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
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Strindberg, August - THERE ARE CRIMES AND CRIMES
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Swift, Jonathan - A MODEST PROPOSAL
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Swift, Jonathan - A TALE OF A TUB
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Swift, Jonathan - GULLIVER'S TRAVELS
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Swift, Jonathan - THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS AND OTHER SHORT PIECES
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Tagore, Rabindranath - FRUIT GATHERING
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Tagore, Rabindranath - THE GARDENER
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Tagore, Rabindranath - THE HUNGRY STONES AND OTHER STORIES
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Thackeray, William - BARRY LYNDON
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Thackeray, William - VANITY FAIR
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Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE BOOK OF SNOBS
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Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE ROSE AND THE RING
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Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE VIRGINIANS
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Thoreau, Henry David - WALDEN
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Tolstoi, Leo - A LETTER TO A HINDU
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Tolstoy, Lev - ANNA KARENINA
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Tolstoy, Lev - WAR AND PEACE
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Trollope, Anthony - AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
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Trollope, Anthony - BARCHESTER TOWERS
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Trollope, Anthony - FRAMLEY PARSONAGE
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Trollope, Anthony - THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS
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Trollope, Anthony - THE MAN WHO KEPT HIS MONEY IN A BOX
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Trollope, Anthony - THE WARDEN
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Trollope, Anthony - THE WAY WE LIVE NOW
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Twain, Mark - LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI
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Twain, Mark - SPEECHES
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Twain, Mark - THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN
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Twain, Mark - THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER
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Twain, Mark - THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
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Vari, Autori - THE MAGNA CARTA
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Verga, Giovanni - SICILIAN STORIES
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Verne, Jules - 20000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEAS
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Verne, Jules - A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH
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Verne, Jules - ALL AROUND THE MOON
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Verne, Jules - AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
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Verne, Jules - FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON
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Verne, Jules - FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON
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Verne, Jules - MICHAEL STROGOFF
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Verne, Jules - THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
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Voltaire - PHILOSOPHICAL DICTIONARY
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Vyasa - MAHABHARATA
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Wallace, Edgar - SANDERS OF THE RIVER
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Wallace, Edgar - THE DAFFODIL MYSTERY
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Wallace, Lew - BEN HUR
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Webster, Jean - DADDY LONG LEGS
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Wedekind, Franz - THE AWAKENING OF SPRING
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Wells, H. G. - KIPPS
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Wells, H. G. - THE INVISIBLE MAN
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Wells, H. G. - THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU
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Wells, H. G. - THE STOLEN BACILLUS AND OTHER INCIDENTS
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Wells, H. G. - THE TIME MACHINE
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Wells, H. G. - THE WAR OF THE WORLDS
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Wells, H. G. - WHAT IS COMING
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Wharton, Edith - THE AGE OF INNOCENCE
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White, Andrew Dickson - FIAT MONEY INFLATION IN FRANCE
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Wilde, Oscar - A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE
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Wilde, Oscar - AN IDEAL HUSBAND
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Wilde, Oscar - DE PROFUNDIS
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Wilde, Oscar - LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN
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Wilde, Oscar - SALOME
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Wilde, Oscar - SELECTED POEMS
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Wilde, Oscar - THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL
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Wilde, Oscar - THE CANTERVILLE GHOST
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Wilde, Oscar - THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES
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Wilde, Oscar - THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
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Wilde, Oscar - THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GREY
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Wilde, Oscar - THE SOUL OF MAN
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Wilson, Epiphanius - SACRED BOOKS OF THE EAST
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Wollstonecraft, Mary - A VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN
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Woolf, Virgina - NIGHT AND DAY
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Woolf, Virgina - THE VOYAGE OUT
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Woolf, Virginia - JACOB'S ROOM
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Woolf, Virginia - MONDAY OR TUESDAY
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Wordsworth, William - POEMS
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Wordsworth, William - PROSE WORKS
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Zola, Emile - THERESE RAQUIN
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DIALOGUES CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION
By DAVID HUME
PAMPHILUS TO HERMIPPUS
It has been remarked, my HERMIPPUS, that though the ancient philosophers
conveyed most of their instruction in the form of dialogue, this method
of composition has been little practised in later ages, and has seldom
succeeded in the hands of those who have attempted it. Accurate and
regular argument, indeed, such as is now expected of philosophical
inquirers, naturally throws a man into the methodical and didactic
manner; where he can immediately, without preparation, explain the point
at which he aims; and thence proceed, without interruption, to deduce
the proofs on which it is established. To deliver a SYSTEM in
conversation, scarcely appears natural; and while the dialogue-writer
desires, by departing from the direct style of composition, to give a
freer air to his performance, and avoid the appearance of Author and
Reader, he is apt to run into a worse inconvenience, and convey the
image of Pedagogue and Pupil. Or, if he carries on the dispute in the
natural spirit of good company, by throwing in a variety of topics, and
preserving a proper balance among the speakers, he often loses so much
time in preparations and transitions, that the reader will scarcely
think himself compensated, by all the graces of dialogue, for the order,
brevity, and precision, which are sacrificed to them.
There are some subjects, however, to which dialogue-writing is peculiarly
adapted, and where it is still preferable to the direct and simple method
of composition.
Any point of doctrine, which is so obvious that it scarcely admits of
dispute, but at the same time so important that it cannot be too often
inculcated, seems to require some such method of handling it; where the
novelty of the manner may compensate the triteness of the subject; where
the vivacity of conversation may enforce the precept; and where the
variety of lights, presented by various personages and characters, may
appear neither tedious nor redundant.
Any question of philosophy, on the other hand, which is so OBSCURE and
UNCERTAIN, that human reason can reach no fixed determination with regard
to it; if it should be treated at all, seems to lead us naturally into
the style of dialogue and conversation. Reasonable men may be allowed to
differ, where no one can reasonably be positive. Opposite sentiments,
even without any decision, afford an agreeable amusement; and if the
subject be curious and interesting, the book carries us, in a manner,
into company; and unites the two greatest and purest pleasures of human
life, study and society.
Happily, these circumstances are all to be found in the subject of
NATURAL RELIGION. What truth so obvious, so certain, as the being of a
God, which the most ignorant ages have acknowledged, for which the most
refined geniuses have ambitiously striven to produce new proofs and
arguments? What truth so important as this, which is the ground of all
our hopes, the surest foundation of morality, the firmest support of
society, and the only principle which ought never to be a moment absent
from our thoughts and meditations? But, in treating of this obvious and
important truth, what obscure questions occur concerning the nature of
that Divine Being, his attributes, his decrees, his plan of providence?
These have been always subjected to the disputations of men; concerning
these human reason has not reached any certain determination. But these
are topics so interesting, that we cannot restrain our restless inquiry
with regard to them; though nothing but doubt, uncertainty, and
contradiction, have as yet been the result of our most accurate
researches.
This I had lately occasion to observe, while I passed, as usual, part of
the summer season with CLEANTHES, and was present at those conversations
of his with PHILO and DEMEA, of which I gave you lately some imperfect
account. Your curiosity, you then told me, was so excited, that I must,
of necessity, enter into a more exact detail of their reasonings, and
display those various systems which they advanced with regard to so
delicate a subject as that of natural religion. The remarkable contrast
in their characters still further raised your expectations; while you
opposed the accurate philosophical turn of CLEANTHES to the careless
scepticism of PHILO, or compared either of their dispositions with the
rigid inflexible orthodoxy of DEMEA. My youth rendered me a mere auditor
of their disputes; and that curiosity, natural to the early season of
life, has so deeply imprinted in my memory the whole chain and connection
of their arguments, that, I hope, I shall not omit or confound any
considerable part of them in the recital.
PART 1
After I joined the company, whom I found sitting in CLEANTHES's library,
DEMEA paid CLEANTHES some compliments on the great care which he took of
my education, and on his unwearied perseverance and constancy in all his
friendships. The father of PAMPHILUS, said he, was your intimate friend:
The son is your pupil; and may indeed be regarded as your adopted son,
were we to judge by the pains which you bestow in conveying to him every
useful branch of literature and science. You are no more wanting, I am
persuaded, in prudence, than in industry. I shall, therefore, communicate
to you a maxim, which I have observed with regard to my own children,
that I may learn how far it agrees with your practice. The method I
follow in their education is founded on the saying of an ancient, "That
students of philosophy ought first to learn logics, then ethics, next
physics, last of all the nature of the gods." [Chrysippus apud Plut: de
repug: Stoicorum] This science of natural theology, according to him,
being the most profound and abstruse of any, required the maturest
judgement in its students; and none but a mind enriched with all the other
sciences, can safely be entrusted with it.
Are you so late, says PHILO, in teaching your children the principles of
religion? Is there no danger of their neglecting, or rejecting altogether
those opinions of which they have heard so little during the whole course
of their education? It is only as a science, replied DEMEA, subjected to
human reasoning and disputation, that I postpone the study of Natural
Theology. To season their minds with early piety, is my chief care; and
by continual precept and instruction, and I hope too by example, I
imprint deeply on their tender minds an habitual reverence for all the
principles of religion. While they pass through every other science, I
still remark the uncertainty of each part; the eternal disputations of
men; the obscurity of all philosophy; and the strange, ridiculous
conclusions, which some of the greatest geniuses have derived from the
principles of mere human reason. Having thus tamed their mind to a proper
submission and self-diffidence, I have no longer any scruple of opening
to them the greatest mysteries of religion; nor apprehend any danger from
that assuming arrogance of philosophy, which may lead them to reject the
most established doctrines and opinions.
Your precaution, says PHILO, of seasoning your children's minds early
with piety, is certainly very reasonable; and no more than is requisite
in this profane and irreligious age. But what I chiefly admire in your
plan of education, is your method of drawing advantage from the very
principles of philosophy and learning, which, by inspiring pride and
self-sufficiency, have commonly, in all ages, been found so destructive
to the principles of religion. The vulgar, indeed, we may remark, who are
unacquainted with science and profound inquiry, observing the endless
disputes of the learned, have commonly a thorough contempt for
philosophy; and rivet themselves the faster, by that means, in the great
points of theology which have been taught them. Those who enter a little
into study and inquiry, finding many appearances of evidence in
doctrines the newest and most extraordinary, think nothing too difficult
for human reason; and, presumptuously breaking through all fences,
profane the inmost sanctuaries of the temple. But CLEANTHES will, I hope,
agree with me, that, after we have abandoned ignorance, the surest
remedy, there is still one expedient left to prevent this profane
liberty. Let DEMEA's principles be improved and cultivated: Let us become
thoroughly sensible of the weakness, blindness, and narrow limits of
human reason: Let us duly consider its uncertainty and endless
contrarieties, even in subjects of common life and practice: Let the
errors and deceits of our very senses be set before us; the insuperable
difficulties which attend first principles in all systems; the
contradictions which adhere to the very ideas of matter, cause and
effect, extension, space, time, motion; and in a word, quantity of all
kinds, the object of the only science that can fairly pretend to any
certainty or evidence. When these topics are displayed in their full
light, as they are by some philosophers and almost all divines; who can
retain such confidence in this frail faculty of reason as to pay any
regard to its determinations in points so sublime, so abstruse, so remote
from common life and experience? When the coherence of the parts of a
stone, or even that composition of parts which renders it extended; when
these familiar objects, I say, are so inexplicable, and contain
circumstances so repugnant and contradictory; with what assurance can we
decide concerning the origin of worlds, or trace their history from
eternity to eternity?
While PHILO pronounced these words, I could observe a smile in the
countenance both of DEMEA and CLEANTHES. That of DEMEA seemed to imply an
unreserved satisfaction in the doctrines delivered: But, in CLEANTHES's
features, I could distinguish an air of finesse; as if he perceived some
raillery or artificial malice in the reasonings of PHILO.
You propose then, PHILO, said CLEANTHES, to erect religious faith on
philosophical scepticism; and you think, that if certainty or evidence be
expelled from every other subject of inquiry, it will all retire to these
theological doctrines, and there acquire a superior force and authority.
Whether your scepticism be as absolute and sincere as you pretend, we
shall learn by and by, when the company breaks up: We shall then see,
whether you go out at the door or the window; and whether you really
doubt if your body has gravity, or can be injured by its fall; according
to popular opinion, derived from our fallacious senses, and more
fallacious experience. And this consideration, DEMEA, may, I think,
fairly serve to abate our ill-will to this humorous sect of the sceptics.
If they be thoroughly in earnest, they will not long trouble the world
with their doubts, cavils, and disputes: If they be only in jest, they
are, perhaps, bad raillers; but can never be very dangerous, either to
the state, to philosophy, or to religion.
In reality, PHILO, continued he, it seems certain, that though a man, in
a flush of humour, after intense reflection on the many contradictions
and imperfections of human reason, may entirely renounce all belief and
opinion, it is impossible for him to persevere in this total scepticism,
or make it appear in his conduct for a few hours. External objects press
in upon him; passions solicit him; his philosophical melancholy
dissipates; and even the utmost violence upon his own temper will not be
able, during any time, to preserve the poor appearance of scepticism. And
for what reason impose on himself such a violence? This is a point in
which it will be impossible for him ever to satisfy himself, consistently
with his sceptical principles. So that, upon the whole, nothing could be
more ridiculous than the principles of the ancient PYRRHONIANS; if in
reality they endeavoured, as is pretended, to extend, throughout, the
same scepticism which they had learned from the declamations of their
schools, and which they ought to have confined to them.
In this view, there appears a great resemblance between the sects of the
STOICS and PYRRHONIANS, though perpetual antagonists; and both of them
seem founded on this erroneous maxim, That what a man can perform
sometimes, and in some dispositions, he can perform always, and in every
disposition. When the mind, by Stoical reflections, is elevated into a
sublime enthusiasm of virtue, and strongly smit with any species of
honour or public good, the utmost bodily pain and sufferings will not
prevail over such a high sense of duty; and it is possible, perhaps, by
its means, even to smile and exult in the midst of tortures. If this
sometimes may be the case in fact and reality, much more may a
philosopher, in his school, or even in his closet, work himself up to
such an enthusiasm, and support in imagination the acutest pain or most
calamitous event which he can possibly conceive. But how shall he support
this enthusiasm itself? The bent of his mind relaxes, and cannot be
recalled at pleasure; avocations lead him astray; misfortunes attack him
unawares; and the philosopher sinks by degrees into the plebeian.
I allow of your comparison between the STOICS and SKEPTICS, replied
PHILO. But you may observe, at the same time, that though the mind
cannot, in Stoicism, support the highest flights of philosophy, yet, even
when it sinks lower, it still retains somewhat of its former disposition;
and the effects of the Stoic's reasoning will appear in his conduct in
common life, and through the whole tenor of his actions. The ancient
schools, particularly that of ZENO, produced examples of virtue and
constancy which seem astonishing to present times.
Vain Wisdom all and false Philosophy.
Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm
Pain, for a while, or anguish; and excite
Fallacious Hope, or arm the obdurate breast
With stubborn Patience, as with triple steel.
In like manner, if a man has accustomed himself to sceptical
considerations on the uncertainty and narrow limits of reason, he will
not entirely forget them when he turns his reflection on other subjects;
but in all his philosophical principles and reasoning, I dare not say in
his common conduct, he will be found different from those, who either
never formed any opinions in the case, or have entertained sentiments
more favourable to human reason.
To whatever length any one may push his speculative principles of
scepticism, he must act, I own, and live, and converse, like other men;
and for this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason, than the
absolute necessity he lies under of so doing. If he ever carries his
speculations further than this necessity constrains him, and
philosophises either on natural or moral subjects, he is allured by a
certain pleasure and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself
after that manner. He considers besides, that every one, even in common
life, is constrained to have more or less of this philosophy; that from
our earliest infancy we make continual advances in forming more general
principles of conduct and reasoning; that the larger experience we
acquire, and the stronger reason we are endued with, we always render our
principles the more general and comprehensive; and that what we call
philosophy is nothing but a more regular and methodical operation of the
same kind. To philosophise on such subjects, is nothing essentially
different from reasoning on common life; and we may only expect greater
stability, if not greater truth, from our philosophy, on account of its
exacter and more scrupulous method of proceeding.
But when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of the
surrounding bodies: when we carry our speculations into the two
eternities, before and after the present state of things; into the
creation and formation of the universe; the existence and properties of
spirits; the powers and operations of one universal Spirit existing
without beginning and without end; omnipotent, omniscient, immutable,
infinite, and incomprehensible: We must be far removed from the smallest
tendency to scepticism not to be apprehensive, that we have here got
quite beyond the reach of our faculties. So long as we confine our
speculations to trade, or morals, or politics, or criticism, we make
appeals, every moment, to common sense and experience, which strengthen
our philosophical conclusions, and remove, at least in part, the
suspicion which we so justly entertain with regard to every reasoning
that is very subtle and refined. But, in theological reasonings, we have
not this advantage; while, at the same time, we are employed upon
objects, which, we must be sensible, are too large for our grasp, and of
all others, require most to be familiarised to our apprehension. We are
like foreigners in a strange country, to whom every thing must seem
suspicious, and who are in danger every moment of transgressing against
the laws and customs of the people with whom they live and converse. We
know not how far we ought to trust our vulgar methods of reasoning in
such a subject; since, even in common life, and in that province which is
peculiarly appropriated to them, we cannot account for them, and are
entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing them.
All sceptics pretend, that, if reason be considered in an abstract view,
it furnishes invincible arguments against itself; and that we could never
retain any conviction or assurance, on any subject, were not the
sceptical reasonings so refined and subtle, that they are not able to
counterpoise the more solid and more natural arguments derived from the
senses and experience. But it is evident, whenever our arguments lose
this advantage, and run wide of common life, that the most refined
scepticism comes to be upon a footing with them, and is able to oppose
and counterbalance them. The one has no more weight than the other. The
mind must remain in suspense between them; and it is that very suspense
or balance, which is the triumph of scepticism.
But I observe, says CLEANTHES, with regard to you, PHILO, and all
speculative sceptics, that your doctrine and practice are as much at
variance in the most abstruse points of theory as in the conduct of
common life. Wherever evidence discovers itself, you adhere to it,
notwithstanding your pretended scepticism; and I can observe, too, some
of your sect to be as decisive as those who make greater professions of
certainty and assurance. In reality, would not a man be ridiculous, who
pretended to reject NEWTON's explication of the wonderful phenomenon of
the rainbow, because that explication gives a minute anatomy of the rays
of light; a subject, forsooth, too refined for human comprehension? And
what would you say to one, who, having nothing particular to object to
the arguments of COPERNICUS and GALILEO for the motion of the earth,
should withhold his assent, on that general principle, that these
subjects were too magnificent and remote to be explained by the narrow
and fallacious reason of mankind?
There is indeed a kind of brutish and ignorant scepticism, as you well
observed, which gives the vulgar a general prejudice against what they do
not easily understand, and makes them reject every principle which
requires elaborate reasoning to prove and establish it. This species of
scepticism is fatal to knowledge, not to religion; since we find, that
those who make greatest profession of it, give often their assent, not
only to the great truths of Theism and natural theology, but even to the
most absurd tenets which a traditional superstition has recommended to
them. They firmly believe in witches, though they will not believe nor
attend to the most simple proposition of Euclid. But the refined and
philosophical sceptics fall into an inconsistence of an opposite nature.
They push their researches into the most abstruse corners of science; and
their assent attends them in every step, proportioned to the evidence
which they meet with. They are even obliged to acknowledge, that the most
abstruse and remote objects are those which are best explained by
philosophy. Light is in reality anatomised. The true system of the
heavenly bodies is discovered and ascertained. But the nourishment of
bodies by food is still an inexplicable mystery. The cohesion of the
parts of matter is still incomprehensible. These sceptics, therefore, are
obliged, in every question, to consider each particular evidence apart,
and proportion their assent to the precise degree of evidence which
occurs. This is their practice in all natural, mathematical, moral, and
political science. And why not the same, I ask, in the theological and
religious? Why must conclusions of this nature be alone rejected on the
general presumption of the insufficiency of human reason, without any
particular discussion of the evidence? Is not such an unequal conduct a
plain proof of prejudice and passion?
Our senses, you say, are fallacious; our understanding erroneous; our
ideas, even of the most familiar objects, extension, duration, motion,
full of absurdities and contradictions. You defy me to solve the
difficulties, or reconcile the repugnancies which you discover in them. I
have not capacity for so great an undertaking: I have not leisure for it:
I perceive it to be superfluous. Your own conduct, in every circumstance,
refutes your principles, and shows the firmest reliance on all the
received maxims of science, morals, prudence, and behaviour.
I shall never assent to so harsh an opinion as that of a celebrated
writer [L'Arte de penser], who says, that the Sceptics are not a sect of
philosophers: They are only a sect of liars. I may, however, affirm
(I hope without offence), that they are a sect of jesters or raillers.
But for my part, whenever I find myself disposed to mirth and amusement,
I shall certainly choose my entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse
nature. A comedy, a novel, or at most a history, seems a more natural
recreation than such metaphysical subtleties and abstractions.
In vain would the sceptic make a distinction between science and common
life, or between one science and another. The arguments employed in all,
if just, are of a similar nature, and contain the same force and
evidence. Or if there be any difference among them, the advantage lies
entirely on the side of theology and natural religion. Many principles of
mechanics are founded on very abstruse reasoning; yet no man who has any
pretensions to science, even no speculative sceptic, pretends to
entertain the least doubt with regard to them. The COPERNICAN system
contains the most surprising paradox, and the most contrary to our
natural conceptions, to appearances, and to our very senses: yet even
monks and inquisitors are now constrained to withdraw their opposition to
it. And shall PHILO, a man of so liberal a genius and extensive
knowledge, entertain any general undistinguished scruples with regard to
the religious hypothesis, which is founded on the simplest and most
obvious arguments, and, unless it meets with artificial obstacles, has
such easy access and admission into the mind of man?
And here we may observe, continued he, turning himself towards DEMEA, a
pretty curious circumstance in the history of the sciences. After the
union of philosophy with the popular religion, upon the first
establishment of Christianity, nothing was more usual, among all
religious teachers, than declamations against reason, against the senses,
against every principle derived merely from human research and inquiry.
All the topics of the ancient academics were adopted by the fathers; and
thence propagated for several ages in every school and pulpit throughout
Christendom. The Reformers embraced the same principles of reasoning, or
rather declamation; and all panegyrics on the excellency of faith, were
sure to be interlarded with some severe strokes of satire against natural
reason. A celebrated prelate [Monsr. Huet] too, of the Romish communion,
a man of the most extensive learning, who wrote a demonstration of
Christianity, has also composed a treatise, which contains all the cavils
of the boldest and most determined PYRRHONISM. LOCKE seems to have been the
first Christian who ventured openly to assert, that faith was nothing but
a species of reason; that religion was only a branch of philosophy; and
that a chain of arguments, similar to that which established any truth in
morals, politics, or physics, was always employed in discovering all the
principles of theology, natural and revealed. The ill use which BAYLE and
other libertines made of the philosophical scepticism of the fathers and
first reformers, still further propagated the judicious sentiment of Mr.
LOCKE: And it is now in a manner avowed, by all pretenders to reasoning
and philosophy, that Atheist and Sceptic are almost synonymous. And as it
is certain that no man is in earnest when he professes the latter
principle, I would fain hope that there are as few who seriously maintain
the former.
Don't you remember, said PHILO, the excellent saying of LORD BACON on
this head? That a little philosophy, replied CLEANTHES, makes a man an
Atheist: A great deal converts him to religion. That is a very judicious
remark too, said PHILO. But what I have in my eye is another passage,
where, having mentioned DAVID's fool, who said in his heart there is no
God, this great philosopher observes, that the Atheists nowadays have a
double share of folly; for they are not contented to say in their hearts
there is no God, but they also utter that impiety with their lips, and
are thereby guilty of multiplied indiscretion and imprudence. Such
people, though they were ever so much in earnest, cannot, methinks, be
very formidable.
But though you should rank me in this class of fools, I cannot forbear
communicating a remark that occurs to me, from the history of the
religious and irreligious scepticism with which you have entertained us.
It appears to me, that there are strong symptoms of priestcraft in the
whole progress of this affair. During ignorant ages, such as those which
followed the dissolution of the ancient schools, the priests perceived,
that Atheism, Deism, or heresy of any kind, could only proceed from the
presumptuous questioning of received opinions, and from a belief that
human reason was equal to every thing. Education had then a mighty
influence over the minds of men, and was almost equal in force to those
suggestions of the senses and common understanding, by which the most
determined sceptic must allow himself to be governed. But at present,
when the influence of education is much diminished, and men, from a more
open commerce of the world, have learned to compare the popular
principles of different nations and ages, our sagacious divines have
changed their whole system of philosophy, and talk the language of
STOICS, PLATONISTS, and PERIPATETICS, not that of PYRRHONIANS and
ACADEMICS. If we distrust human reason, we have now no other principle to
lead us into religion. Thus, sceptics in one age, dogmatists in another;
whichever system best suits the purpose of these reverend gentlemen, in
giving them an ascendant over mankind, they are sure to make it their
favourite principle, and established tenet.
It is very natural, said CLEANTHES, for men to embrace those principles,
by which they find they can best defend their doctrines; nor need we have
any recourse to priestcraft to account for so reasonable an expedient.
And, surely nothing can afford a stronger presumption, that any set of
principles are true, and ought to be embraced, than to observe that they
tend to the confirmation of true religion, and serve to confound the
cavils of Atheists, Libertines, and Freethinkers of all denominations.
PART 2
I must own, CLEANTHES, said DEMEA, that nothing can more surprise me,
than the light in which you have all along put this argument. By the
whole tenor of your discourse, one would imagine that you were
maintaining the Being of a God, against the cavils of Atheists and
Infidels; and were necessitated to become a champion for that fundamental
principle of all religion. But this, I hope, is not by any means a
question among us. No man, no man at least of common sense, I am
persuaded, ever entertained a serious doubt with regard to a truth so
certain and self-evident. The question is not concerning the being, but
the nature of God. This, I affirm, from the infirmities of human
understanding, to be altogether incomprehensible and unknown to us. The
essence of that supreme Mind, his attributes, the manner of his
existence, the very nature of his duration; these, and every particular
which regards so divine a Being, are mysterious to men. Finite, weak, and
blind creatures, we ought to humble ourselves in his august presence;
and, conscious of our frailties, adore in silence his infinite
perfections, which eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it
entered into the heart of man to conceive. They are covered in a deep
cloud from human curiosity. It is profaneness to attempt penetrating
through these sacred obscurities. And, next to the impiety of denying his
existence, is the temerity of prying into his nature and essence, decrees
and attributes.
But lest you should think that my piety has here got the better of my
philosophy, I shall support my opinion, if it needs any support, by a very
great authority. I might cite all the divines, almost, from the foundation
of Christianity, who have ever treated of this or any other theological
subject: But I shall confine myself, at present, to one equally celebrated
for piety and philosophy. It is Father MALEBRANCHE, who, I remember, thus
expresses himself [Recherche de la Verite. Liv. 3. Chap.9]. "One ought not
so much," says he, "to call God a spirit, in order to express positively
what he is, as in order to signify that he is not matter. He is a Being
infinitely perfect: Of this we cannot doubt. But in the same manner as
we ought not to imagine, even supposing him corporeal, that he is clothed
with a human body, as the ANTHROPOMORPHITES asserted, under colour that
that figure was the most perfect of any; so, neither ought we to imagine
that the spirit of God has human ideas, or bears any resemblance to our
spirit, under colour that we know nothing more perfect than a human mind.
We ought rather to believe, that as he comprehends the perfections of
matter without being material.... he comprehends also the perfections of
created spirits without being spirit, in the manner we conceive spirit:
That his true name is, He that is; or, in other words, Being without
restriction, All Being, the Being infinite and universal."
After so great an authority, DEMEA, replied PHILO, as that which you have
produced, and a thousand more which you might produce, it would appear
ridiculous in me to add my sentiment, or express my approbation of your
doctrine. But surely, where reasonable men treat these subjects, the
question can never be concerning the Being, but only the Nature, of the
Deity. The former truth, as you well observe, is unquestionable and
self-evident. Nothing exists without a cause; and the original cause of
this universe (whatever it be) we call God; and piously ascribe to him
every species of perfection. Whoever scruples this fundamental truth,
deserves every punishment which can be inflicted among philosophers, to
wit, the greatest ridicule, contempt, and disapprobation. But as all
perfection is entirely relative, we ought never to imagine that we
comprehend the attributes of this divine Being, or to suppose that his
perfections have any analogy or likeness to the perfections of a human
creature. Wisdom, Thought, Design, Knowledge; these we justly ascribe to
him; because these words are honourable among men, and we have no other
language or other conceptions by which we can express our adoration of
him. But let us beware, lest we think that our ideas anywise correspond
to his perfections, or that his attributes have any resemblance to these
qualities among men. He is infinitely superior to our limited view and
comprehension; and is more the object of worship in the temple, than of
disputation in the schools.
In reality, CLEANTHES, continued he, there is no need of having recourse
to that affected scepticism so displeasing to you, in order to come at
this determination. Our ideas reach no further than our experience. We
have no experience of divine attributes and operations. I need not
conclude my syllogism. You can draw the inference yourself. And it is a
pleasure to me (and I hope to you too) that just reasoning and sound
piety here concur in the same conclusion, and both of them establish the
adorably mysterious and incomprehensible nature of the Supreme Being.
Not to lose any time in circumlocutions, said CLEANTHES, addressing
himself to DEMEA, much less in replying to the pious declamations of
PHILO; I shall briefly explain how I conceive this matter. Look round the
world: contemplate the whole and every part of it: You will find it to be
nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite number of
lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond
what human senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various
machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each other
with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever
contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to ends, throughout all
nature, resembles exactly, though it much exceeds, the productions of
human contrivance; of human designs, thought, wisdom, and intelligence.
Since, therefore, the effects resemble each other, we are led to infer,
by all the rules of analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the
Author of Nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed
of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which
he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by this argument
alone, do we prove at once the existence of a Deity, and his similarity
to human mind and intelligence.
I shall be so free, CLEANTHES, said DEMEA, as to tell you, that from the
beginning, I could not approve of your conclusion concerning the
similarity of the Deity to men; still less can I approve of the mediums
by which you endeavour to establish it. What! No demonstration of the
Being of God! No abstract arguments! No proofs a priori! Are these, which
have hitherto been so much insisted on by philosophers, all fallacy, all
sophism? Can we reach no further in this subject than experience and
probability? I will not say that this is betraying the cause of a Deity:
But surely, by this affected candour, you give advantages to Atheists,
which they never could obtain by the mere dint of argument and reasoning.
What I chiefly scruple in this subject, said PHILO, is not so much that
all religious arguments are by CLEANTHES reduced to experience, as that
they appear not to be even the most certain and irrefragable of that
inferior kind. That a stone will fall, that fire will burn, that the
earth has solidity, we have observed a thousand and a thousand times; and
when any new instance of this nature is presented, we draw without
hesitation the accustomed inference. The exact similarity of the cases
gives us a perfect assurance of a similar event; and a stronger evidence
is never desired nor sought after. But wherever you depart, in the least,
from the similarity of the cases, you diminish proportionably the
evidence; and may at last bring it to a very weak analogy, which is
confessedly liable to error and uncertainty. After having experienced the
circulation of the blood in human creatures, we make no doubt that it
takes place in TITIUS and MAEVIUS. But from its circulation in frogs and
fishes, it is only a presumption, though a strong one, from analogy, that
it takes place in men and other animals. The analogical reasoning is much
weaker, when we infer the circulation of the sap in vegetables from our
experience that the blood circulates in animals; and those, who hastily
followed that imperfect analogy, are found, by more accurate experiments,
to have been mistaken.
If we see a house, CLEANTHES, we conclude, with the greatest certainty,
that it had an architect or builder; because this is precisely that
species of effect which we have experienced to proceed from that species
of cause. But surely you will not affirm, that the universe bears such a
resemblance to a house, that we can with the same certainty infer a
similar cause, or that the analogy is here entire and perfect. The
dissimilitude is so striking, that the utmost you can here pretend to is
a guess, a conjecture, a presumption concerning a similar cause; and how
that pretension will be received in the world, I leave you to consider.
It would surely be very ill received, replied CLEANTHES; and I should be
deservedly blamed and detested, did I allow, that the proofs of a Deity
amounted to no more than a guess or conjecture. But is the whole
adjustment of means to ends in a house and in the universe so slight a
resemblance? The economy of final causes? The order, proportion, and
arrangement of every part? Steps of a stair are plainly contrived, that
human legs may use them in mounting; and this inference is certain and
infallible. Human legs are also contrived for walking and mounting; and
this inference, I allow, is not altogether so certain, because of the
dissimilarity which you remark; but does it, therefore, deserve the name
only of presumption or conjecture?
Good God! cried DEMEA, interrupting him, where are we? Zealous defenders
of religion allow, that the proofs of a Deity fall short of perfect
evidence! And you, PHILO, on whose assistance I depended in proving the
adorable mysteriousness of the Divine Nature, do you assent to all these
extravagant opinions of CLEANTHES? For what other name can I give them?
or, why spare my censure, when such principles are advanced, supported by
such an authority, before so young a man as PAMPHILUS?
You seem not to apprehend, replied PHILO, that I argue with CLEANTHES in
his own way; and, by showing him the dangerous consequences of his
tenets, hope at last to reduce him to our opinion. But what sticks most
with you, I observe, is the representation which CLEANTHES has made of
the argument a posteriori; and finding that that argument is likely to
escape your hold and vanish into air, you think it so disguised, that you
can scarcely believe it to be set in its true light. Now, however much I
may dissent, in other respects, from the dangerous principles of
CLEANTHES, I must allow that he has fairly represented that argument; and
I shall endeavour so to state the matter to you, that you will entertain
no further scruples with regard to it.
Were a man to abstract from every thing which he knows or has seen, he
would be altogether incapable, merely from his own ideas, to determine
what kind of scene the universe must be, or to give the preference to one
state or situation of things above another. For as nothing which he
clearly conceives could be esteemed impossible or implying a contradiction,
every chimera of his fancy would be upon an equal footing; nor could he
assign any just reason why he adheres to one idea or system, and rejects
the others which are equally possible.
Again; after he opens his eyes, and contemplates the world as it really
is, it would be impossible for him at first to assign the cause of any
one event, much less of the whole of things, or of the universe. He might
set his fancy a rambling; and she might bring him in an infinite variety
of reports and representations. These would all be possible; but being
all equally possible, he would never of himself give a satisfactory
account for his preferring one of them to the rest. Experience alone can
point out to him the true cause of any phenomenon.
Now, according to this method of reasoning, DEMEA, it follows, (and is,
indeed, tacitly allowed by CLEANTHES himself,) that order, arrangement,
or the adjustment of final causes, is not of itself any proof of design;
but only so far as it has been experienced to proceed from that
principle. For aught we can know a priori, matter may contain the source
or spring of order originally within itself, as well as mind does; and
there is no more difficulty in conceiving, that the several elements,
from an internal unknown cause, may fall into the most exquisite
arrangement, than to conceive that their ideas, in the great universal
mind, from a like internal unknown cause, fall into that arrangement. The
equal possibility of both these suppositions is allowed. But, by
experience, we find, (according to CLEANTHES), that there is a difference
between them. Throw several pieces of steel together, without shape or
form; they will never arrange themselves so as to compose a watch. Stone,
and mortar, and wood, without an architect, never erect a house. But the
ideas in a human mind, we see, by an unknown, inexplicable economy,
arrange themselves so as to form the plan of a watch or house.
Experience, therefore, proves, that there is an original principle of
order in mind, not in matter. From similar effects we infer similar
causes. The adjustment of means to ends is alike in the universe, as in a
machine of human contrivance. The causes, therefore, must be resembling.
I was from the beginning scandalised, I must own, with this resemblance,
which is asserted, between the Deity and human creatures; and must
conceive it to imply such a degradation of the Supreme Being as no sound
Theist could endure. With your assistance, therefore, DEMEA, I shall
endeavour to defend what you justly call the adorable mysteriousness of
the Divine Nature, and shall refute this reasoning of CLEANTHES, provided
he allows that I have made a fair representation of it.
When CLEANTHES had assented, PHILO, after a short pause, proceeded in the
following manner.
That all inferences, CLEANTHES, concerning fact, are founded on
experience; and that all experimental reasonings are founded on the
supposition that similar causes prove similar effects, and similar
effects similar causes; I shall not at present much dispute with you. But
observe, I entreat you, with what extreme caution all just reasoners
proceed in the transferring of experiments to similar cases. Unless the
cases be exactly similar, they repose no perfect confidence in applying
their past observation to any particular phenomenon. Every alteration of
circumstances occasions a doubt concerning the event; and it requires new
experiments to prove certainly, that the new circumstances are of no
moment or importance. A change in bulk, situation, arrangement, age,
disposition of the air, or surrounding bodies; any of these particulars
may be attended with the most unexpected consequences: And unless the
objects be quite familiar to us, it is the highest temerity to expect
with assurance, after any of these changes, an event similar to that
which before fell under our observation. The slow and deliberate steps of
philosophers here, if any where, are distinguished from the precipitate
march of the vulgar, who, hurried on by the smallest similitude, are
incapable of all discernment or consideration.
But can you think, CLEANTHES, that your usual phlegm and philosophy have
been preserved in so wide a step as you have taken, when you compared to
the universe houses, ships, furniture, machines, and, from their
similarity in some circumstances, inferred a similarity in their causes?
Thought, design, intelligence, such as we discover in men and other
animals, is no more than one of the springs and principles of the
universe, as well as heat or cold, attraction or repulsion, and a hundred
others, which fall under daily observation. It is an active cause, by
which some particular parts of nature, we find, produce alterations on
other parts. But can a conclusion, with any propriety, be transferred
from parts to the whole? Does not the great disproportion bar all
comparison and inference? From observing the growth of a hair, can we
learn any thing concerning the generation of a man? Would the manner of a
leaf's blowing, even though perfectly known, afford us any instruction
concerning the vegetation of a tree?
But, allowing that we were to take the operations of one part of nature
upon another, for the foundation of our judgement concerning the origin
of the whole, (which never can be admitted,) yet why select so minute, so
weak, so bounded a principle, as the reason and design of animals is
found to be upon this planet? What peculiar privilege has this little
agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we must thus make it
the model of the whole universe? Our partiality in our own favour does
indeed present it on all occasions; but sound philosophy ought carefully
to guard against so natural an illusion.
So far from admitting, continued PHILO, that the operations of a part can
afford us any just conclusion concerning the origin of the whole, I will
not allow any one part to form a rule for another part, if the latter be
very remote from the former. Is there any reasonable ground to conclude,
that the inhabitants of other planets possess thought, intelligence,
reason, or any thing similar to these faculties in men? When nature has
so extremely diversified her manner of operation in this small globe, can
we imagine that she incessantly copies herself throughout so immense a
universe? And if thought, as we may well suppose, be confined merely to
this narrow corner, and has even there so limited a sphere of action,
with what propriety can we assign it for the original cause of all
things? The narrow views of a peasant, who makes his domestic economy the
rule for the government of kingdoms, is in comparison a pardonable
sophism.
But were we ever so much assured, that a thought and reason, resembling
the human, were to be found throughout the whole universe, and were its
activity elsewhere vastly greater and more commanding than it appears in
this globe; yet I cannot see, why the operations of a world constituted,
arranged, adjusted, can with any propriety be extended to a world which
is in its embryo state, and is advancing towards that constitution and
arrangement. By observation, we know somewhat of the economy, action, and
nourishment of a finished animal; but we must transfer with great caution
that observation to the growth of a foetus in the womb, and still more to
the formation of an animalcule in the loins of its male parent. Nature,
we find, even from our limited experience, possesses an infinite number
of springs and principles, which incessantly discover themselves on every
change of her position and situation. And what new and unknown principles
would actuate her in so new and unknown a situation as that of the
formation of a universe, we cannot, without the utmost temerity, pretend
to determine.
A very small part of this great system, during a very short time, is very
imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence pronounce decisively
concerning the origin of the whole?
Admirable conclusion! Stone, wood, brick, iron, brass, have not, at this
time, in this minute globe of earth, an order or arrangement without
human art and contrivance; therefore the universe could not originally
attain its order and arrangement, without something similar to human art.
But is a part of nature a rule for another part very wide of the former?
Is it a rule for the whole? Is a very small part a rule for the universe?
Is nature in one situation, a certain rule for nature in another
situation vastly different from the former?
And can you blame me, CLEANTHES, if I here imitate the prudent reserve of
SIMONIDES, who, according to the noted story, being asked by HIERO,
What God was? desired a day to think of it, and then two days more; and
after that manner continually prolonged the term, without ever bringing
in his definition or description? Could you even blame me, if I had
answered at first, that I did not know, and was sensible that this
subject lay vastly beyond the reach of my faculties? You might cry out
sceptic and railler, as much as you pleased: but having found, in so many
other subjects much more familiar, the imperfections and even
contradictions of human reason, I never should expect any success from
its feeble conjectures, in a subject so sublime, and so remote from the
sphere of our observation. When two species of objects have always been
observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the existence
of one wherever I see the existence of the other; and this I call an
argument from experience. But how this argument can have place, where the
objects, as in the present case, are single, individual, without
parallel, or specific resemblance, may be difficult to explain. And will
any man tell me with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must
arise from some thought and art like the human, because we have
experience of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite that we
had experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient, surely,
that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and contrivance...
PHILO was proceeding in this vehement manner, somewhat between jest and
earnest, as it appeared to me, when he observed some signs of impatience
in CLEANTHES, and then immediately stopped short. What I had to suggest,
said CLEANTHES, is only that you would not abuse terms, or make use of
popular expressions to subvert philosophical reasonings. You know, that
the vulgar often distinguish reason from experience, even where the
question relates only to matter of fact and existence; though it is
found, where that reason is properly analysed, that it is nothing but a
species of experience. To prove by experience the origin of the universe
from mind, is not more contrary to common speech, than to prove the
motion of the earth from the same principle. And a caviller might raise
all the same objections to the Copernican system, which you have urged
against my reasonings. Have you other earths, might he say, which you
have seen to move? Have...
Yes! cried PHILO, interrupting him, we have other earths. Is not the moon
another earth, which we see to turn round its centre? Is not Venus
another earth, where we observe the same phenomenon? Are not the
revolutions of the sun also a confirmation, from analogy, of the same
theory? All the planets, are they not earths, which revolve about the
sun? Are not the satellites moons, which move round Jupiter and Saturn,
and along with these primary planets round the sun? These analogies and
resemblances, with others which I have not mentioned, are the sole proofs
of the COPERNICAN system; and to you it belongs to consider, whether you
have any analogies of the same kind to support your theory.
In reality, CLEANTHES, continued he, the modern system of astronomy is
now so much received by all inquirers, and has become so essential a part
even of our earliest education, that we are not commonly very scrupulous
in examining the reasons upon which it is founded. It is now become a
matter of mere curiosity to study the first writers on that subject, who
had the full force of prejudice to encounter, and were obliged to turn
their arguments on every side in order to render them popular and
convincing. But if we peruse GALILEO's famous Dialogues concerning the
system of the world, we shall find, that that great genius, one of the
sublimest that ever existed, first bent all his endeavours to prove, that
there was no foundation for the distinction commonly made between
elementary and celestial substances. The schools, proceeding from the
illusions of sense, had carried this distinction very far; and had
established the latter substances to be ingenerable, incorruptible,
unalterable, impassable; and had assigned all the opposite qualities to
the former. But GALILEO, beginning with the moon, proved its similarity
in every particular to the earth; its convex figure, its natural darkness
when not illuminated, its density, its distinction into solid and liquid,
the variations of its phases, the mutual illuminations of the earth and
moon, their mutual eclipses, the inequalities of the lunar surface, &c.
After many instances of this kind, with regard to all the planets, men
plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of experience; and
that the similarity of their nature enabled us to extend the same
arguments and phenomena from one to the other.
In this cautious proceeding of the astronomers, you may read your own
condemnation, CLEANTHES; or rather may see, that the subject in which you
are engaged exceeds all human reason and inquiry. Can you pretend to show
any such similarity between the fabric of a house, and the generation of
a universe? Have you ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles
the first arrangement of the elements? Have worlds ever been formed under
your eye; and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress of the
phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its final consummation?
If you have, then cite your experience, and deliver your theory.
PART 3
How the most absurd argument, replied CLEANTHES, in the hands of a man of
ingenuity and invention, may acquire an air of probability! Are you not
aware, PHILO, that it became necessary for Copernicus and his first
disciples to prove the similarity of the terrestrial and celestial
matter; because several philosophers, blinded by old systems, and
supported by some sensible appearances, had denied this similarity? but
that it is by no means necessary, that Theists should prove the
similarity of the works of Nature to those of Art; because this
similarity is self-evident and undeniable? The same matter, a like form;
what more is requisite to show an analogy between their causes, and to
ascertain the origin of all things from a divine purpose and intention?
Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no better than the abstruse
cavils of those philosophers who denied motion; and ought to be refuted
in the same manner, by illustrations, examples, and instances, rather
than by serious argument and philosophy.
Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were heard in the clouds,
much louder and more melodious than any which human art could ever reach:
Suppose, that this voice were extended in the same instant over all
nations, and spoke to each nation in its own language and dialect:
Suppose, that the words delivered not only contain a just sense and
meaning, but convey some instruction altogether worthy of a benevolent
Being, superior to mankind: Could you possibly hesitate a moment
concerning the cause of this voice? and must you not instantly ascribe it
to some design or purpose? Yet I cannot see but all the same objections
(if they merit that appellation) which lie against the system of Theism,
may also be produced against this inference.
Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were founded on
experience: that when we hear an articulate voice in the dark, and thence
infer a man, it is only the resemblance of the effects which leads us to
conclude that there is a like resemblance in the cause: but that this
extraordinary voice, by its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all
languages, bears so little analogy to any human voice, that we have no
reason to suppose any analogy in their causes: and consequently, that a
rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, you know not whence, from some
accidental whistling of the winds, not from any divine reason or
intelligence? You see clearly your own objections in these cavils, and I
hope too you see clearly, that they cannot possibly have more force in
the one case than in the other.
But to bring the case still nearer the present one of the universe, I
shall make two suppositions, which imply not any absurdity or
impossibility. Suppose that there is a natural, universal, invariable
language, common to every individual of human race; and that books are
natural productions, which perpetuate themselves in the same manner with
animals and vegetables, by descent and propagation. Several expressions
of our passions contain a universal language: all brute animals have a
natural speech, which, however limited, is very intelligible to their own
species. And as there are infinitely fewer parts and less contrivance in
the finest composition of eloquence, than in the coarsest organised body,
the propagation of an Iliad or Aeneid is an easier supposition than that
of any plant or animal.
Suppose, therefore, that you enter into your library, thus peopled by
natural volumes, containing the most refined reason and most exquisite
beauty; could you possibly open one of them, and doubt, that its original
cause bore the strongest analogy to mind and intelligence? When it
reasons and discourses; when it expostulates, argues, and enforces its
views and topics; when it applies sometimes to the pure intellect,
sometimes to the affections; when it collects, disposes, and adorns every
consideration suited to the subject; could you persist in asserting, that
all this, at the bottom, had really no meaning; and that the first
formation of this volume in the loins of its original parent proceeded
not from thought and design? Your obstinacy, I know, reaches not that
degree of firmness: even your sceptical play and wantonness would be
abashed at so glaring an absurdity.
But if there be any difference, PHILO, between this supposed case and the
real one of the universe, it is all to the advantage of the latter. The
anatomy of an animal affords many stronger instances of design than the
perusal of LIVY or TACITUS; and any objection which you start in the
former case, by carrying me back to so unusual and extraordinary a scene
as the first formation of worlds, the same objection has place on the
supposition of our vegetating library. Choose, then, your party, PHILO,
without ambiguity or evasion; assert either that a rational volume is no
proof of a rational cause, or admit of a similar cause to all the works
of nature.
Let me here observe too, continued CLEANTHES, that this religious
argument, instead of being weakened by that scepticism so much affected
by you, rather acquires force from it, and becomes more firm and
undisputed. To exclude all argument or reasoning of every kind, is either
affectation or madness. The declared profession of every reasonable
sceptic is only to reject abstruse, remote, and refined arguments; to
adhere to common sense and the plain instincts of nature; and to assent,
wherever any reasons strike him with so full a force that he cannot,
without the greatest violence, prevent it. Now the arguments for Natural
Religion are plainly of this kind; and nothing but the most perverse,
obstinate metaphysics can reject them. Consider, anatomise the eye;
survey its structure and contrivance; and tell me, from your own feeling,
if the idea of a contriver does not immediately flow in upon you with a
force like that of sensation. The most obvious conclusion, surely, is in
favour of design; and it requires time, reflection, and study, to summon
up those frivolous, though abstruse objections, which can support
Infidelity. Who can behold the male and female of each species, the
correspondence of their parts and instincts, their passions, and whole
course of life before and after generation, but must be sensible, that
the propagation of the species is intended by Nature? Millions and
millions of such instances present themselves through every part of the
universe; and no language can convey a more intelligible irresistible
meaning, than the curious adjustment of final causes. To what degree,
therefore, of blind dogmatism must one have attained, to reject such
natural and such convincing arguments?
Some beauties in writing we may meet with, which seem contrary to rules,
and which gain the affections, and animate the imagination, in opposition
to all the precepts of criticism, and to the authority of the established
masters of art. And if the argument for Theism be, as you pretend,
contradictory to the principles of logic; its universal, its irresistible
influence proves clearly, that there may be arguments of a like irregular
nature. Whatever cavils may be urged, an orderly world, as well as a
coherent, articulate speech, will still be received as an incontestable
proof of design and intention.
It sometimes happens, I own, that the religious arguments have not their
due influence on an ignorant savage and barbarian; not because they are
obscure and difficult, but because he never asks himself any question
with regard to them. Whence arises the curious structure of an animal?
From the copulation of its parents. And these whence? From their parents?
A few removes set the objects at such a distance, that to him they are
lost in darkness and confusion; nor is he actuated by any curiosity to
trace them further. But this is neither dogmatism nor scepticism, but
stupidity: a state of mind very different from your sifting, inquisitive
disposition, my ingenious friend. You can trace causes from effects: You
can compare the most distant and remote objects: and your greatest errors
proceed not from barrenness of thought and invention, but from too
luxuriant a fertility, which suppresses your natural good sense, by a
profusion of unnecessary scruples and objections.
Here I could observe, HERMIPPUS, that PHILO was a little embarrassed and
confounded: But while he hesitated in delivering an answer, luckily for
him, DEMEA broke in upon the discourse, and saved his countenance.
Your instance, CLEANTHES, said he, drawn from books and language, being
familiar, has, I confess, so much more force on that account: but is
there not some danger too in this very circumstance; and may it not
render us presumptuous, by making us imagine we comprehend the Deity, and
have some adequate idea of his nature and attributes? When I read a
volume, I enter into the mind and intention of the author: I become him,
in a manner, for the instant; and have an immediate feeling and
conception of those ideas which revolved in his imagination while
employed in that composition. But so near an approach we never surely can
make to the Deity. His ways are not our ways. His attributes are perfect,
but incomprehensible. And this volume of nature contains a great and
inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible discourse or reasoning.
The ancient PLATONISTS, you know, were the most religious and devout of
all the Pagan philosophers; yet many of them, particularly PLOTINUS,
expressly declare, that intellect or understanding is not to be ascribed
to the Deity; and that our most perfect worship of him consists, not in
acts of veneration, reverence, gratitude, or love; but in a certain
mysterious self-annihilation, or total extinction of all our faculties.
These ideas are, perhaps, too far stretched; but still it must be
acknowledged, that, by representing the Deity as so intelligible and
comprehensible, and so similar to a human mind, we are guilty of the
grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves the model of the
whole universe.
All the sentiments of the human mind, gratitude, resentment, love,
friendship, approbation, blame, pity, emulation, envy, have a plain
reference to the state and situation of man, and are calculated for
preserving the existence and promoting the activity of such a being in
such circumstances. It seems, therefore, unreasonable to transfer such
sentiments to a supreme existence, or to suppose him actuated by them;
and the phenomena besides of the universe will not support us in such a
theory. All our ideas, derived from the senses, are confessedly false and
illusive; and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a supreme
intelligence: And as the ideas of internal sentiment, added to those of
the external senses, compose the whole furniture of human understanding,
we may conclude, that none of the materials of thought are in any respect
similar in the human and in the divine intelligence. Now, as to the
manner of thinking; how can we make any comparison between them, or
suppose them any wise resembling? Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain,
fleeting, successive, and compounded; and were we to remove these
circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it would in such
a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of thought or reason.
At least if it appear more pious and respectful (as it really is) still
to retain these terms, when we mention the Supreme Being, we ought to
acknowledge, that their meaning, in that case, is totally
incomprehensible; and that the infirmities of our nature do not permit us
to reach any ideas which in the least correspond to the ineffable
sublimity of the Divine attributes.
PART 4
It seems strange to me, said CLEANTHES, that you, DEMEA, who are so
sincere in the cause of religion, should still maintain the mysterious,
incomprehensible nature of the Deity, and should insist so strenuously
that he has no manner of likeness or resemblance to human creatures. The
Deity, I can readily allow, possesses many powers and attributes of which
we can have no comprehension: But if our ideas, so far as they go, be not
just, and adequate, and correspondent to his real nature, I know not what
there is in this subject worth insisting on. Is the name, without any
meaning, of such mighty importance? Or how do you mystics, who maintain
the absolute incomprehensibility of the Deity, differ from Sceptics or
Atheists, who assert, that the first cause of all is unknown and
unintelligible? Their temerity must be very great, if, after rejecting
the production by a mind, I mean a mind resembling the human, (for I know
of no other,) they pretend to assign, with certainty, any other specific
intelligible cause: And their conscience must be very scrupulous indeed,
if they refuse to call the universal unknown cause a God or Deity; and to
bestow on him as many sublime eulogies and unmeaning epithets as you
shall please to require of them.
Who could imagine, replied DEMEA, that CLEANTHES, the calm philosophical
CLEANTHES, would attempt to refute his antagonists by affixing a nickname
to them; and, like the common bigots and inquisitors of the age, have
recourse to invective and declamation, instead of reasoning? Or does he
not perceive, that these topics are easily retorted, and that
Anthropomorphite is an appellation as invidious, and implies as dangerous
consequences, as the epithet of Mystic, with which he has honoured us? In
reality, CLEANTHES, consider what it is you assert when you represent the
Deity as similar to a human mind and understanding. What is the soul of
man? A composition of various faculties, passions, sentiments, ideas;
united, indeed, into one self or person, but still distinct from each
other. When it reasons, the ideas, which are the parts of its discourse,
arrange themselves in a certain form or order; which is not preserved
entire for a moment, but immediately gives place to another arrangement.
New opinions, new passions, new affections, new feelings arise, which
continually diversify the mental scene, and produce in it the greatest
variety and most rapid succession imaginable. How is this compatible with
that perfect immutability and simplicity which all true Theists ascribe
to the Deity? By the same act, say they, he sees past, present, and
future: His love and hatred, his mercy and justice, are one individual
operation: He is entire in every point of space; and complete in every
instant of duration. No succession, no change, no acquisition, no
diminution. What he is implies not in it any shadow of distinction or
diversity. And what he is this moment he ever has been, and ever will be,
without any new judgement, sentiment, or operation. He stands fixed in
one simple, perfect state: nor can you ever say, with any propriety, that
this act of his is different from that other; or that this judgement or
idea has been lately formed, and will give place, by succession, to any
different judgement or idea.
I can readily allow, said CLEANTHES, that those who maintain the perfect
simplicity of the Supreme Being, to the extent in which you have
explained it, are complete Mystics, and chargeable with all the
consequences which I have drawn from their opinion. They are, in a word,
Atheists, without knowing it. For though it be allowed, that the Deity
possesses attributes of which we have no comprehension, yet ought we
never to ascribe to him any attributes which are absolutely incompatible
with that intelligent nature essential to him. A mind, whose acts and
sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive; one, that is wholly
simple, and totally immutable, is a mind which has no thought, no reason,
no will, no sentiment, no love, no hatred; or, in a word, is no mind at
all. It is an abuse of terms to give it that appellation; and we may as
well speak of limited extension without figure, or of number without
composition.
Pray consider, said PHILO, whom you are at present inveighing against.
You are honouring with the appellation of Atheist all the sound, orthodox
divines, almost, who have treated of this subject; and you will at last
be, yourself, found, according to your reckoning, the only sound Theist
in the world. But if idolaters be Atheists, as, I think, may justly be
asserted, and Christian Theologians the same, what becomes of the
argument, so much celebrated, derived from the universal consent of
mankind?
But because I know you are not much swayed by names and authorities, I
shall endeavour to show you, a little more distinctly, the inconveniences
of that Anthropomorphism, which you have embraced; and shall prove, that
there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the
Divine mind, consisting of distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the
same manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house which
he intends to execute.
It is not easy, I own, to see what is gained by this supposition, whether
we judge of the matter by Reason or by Experience. We are still obliged
to mount higher, in order to find the cause of this cause, which you had
assigned as satisfactory and conclusive.
If Reason (I mean abstract reason, derived from inquiries a priori) be
not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning cause and effect,
this sentence at least it will venture to pronounce, That a mental world,
or universe of ideas, requires a cause as much, as does a material world,
or universe of objects; and, if similar in its arrangement, must require
a similar cause. For what is there in this subject, which should occasion
a different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are
entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition, which is
not common to both of them.
Again, when we will needs force Experience to pronounce some sentence,
even on these subjects which lie beyond her sphere, neither can she
perceive any material difference in this particular, between these two
kinds of worlds; but finds them to be governed by similar principles, and
to depend upon an equal variety of causes in their operations. We have
specimens in miniature of both of them. Our own mind resembles the one; a
vegetable or animal body the other. Let experience, therefore, judge from
these samples. Nothing seems more delicate, with regard to its causes,
than thought; and as these causes never operate in two persons after the
same manner, so we never find two persons who think exactly alike. Nor
indeed does the same person think exactly alike at any two different
periods of time. A difference of age, of the disposition of his body, of
weather, of food, of company, of books, of passions; any of these
particulars, or others more minute, are sufficient to alter the curious
machinery of thought, and communicate to it very different movements and
operations. As far as we can judge, vegetables and animal bodie
♥ FINE AREA VOCALIZZATA CON READSPEAKER
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