Part 12
When Spinosa desired to throw contempt on our instinctive perceptions, he said, it is the same as if a weather-cock, at the very moment it was the plaything of the winds, believed itself to be the cause, and consequently that it had free will. What signifies such an argument, unless it is to prove, that it is possible to suppose a fiction so perfect, that it would apparently be equivalent to a reality? But I would ask, by what foolish design of an intelligent being, or even by what fortuitous assemblage of blind nature, is it that man should have every moment a will precisely conformable to his actions, if there is not a real correspondence between every part?
We could oppose to the hypothesis of Spinosa another argument, which would lead to a conclusion absolutely contrary; that is, if the most apparent liberty may be only a fiction, by a particular concurrence of our will with an action ordained; it is also incontestible, that were we to suppose the existence, or simple possibility of a free-will, we could not have a different idea of it, than that which we have already; and the liberty of God himself would not appear to our thoughts under any other form. It is very essential to remark, that when we reflect about our faculties, we with ease imagine a superior degree of intelligence, of knowledge, of memory, of foresight, and of every other property of our understanding; liberty is the only part of ourselves to which our imagination cannot add any thing.
I shall not pursue other subtle arguments, which have been produced, to corroborate my opinion; it is not to some men, but to all, that I desire to speak, because I wish to be universally useful: I shall then always dwell on the principal reflections, whenever they appear to me sufficient to influence the opinion of sound minds, and to fix them on those important truths which are the surest foundation of public happiness. Self-love might induce many to follow a question as far as it would go, and vainly glory in spinning it out; but self-love, applied to profound meditations, is itself a great subtilty.
Let us examine other arguments used to combat principles which we have established. It is in vain, some will say, to endeavour to prove the existence of a God, as a real support of the laws of morality; all this system will fall to pieces, if we are not informed, at the same time, in what manner this God rewards and punishes.
I shall observe, at first, that such an objection cannot make a very deep impression, but when it is connected in our minds with some doubt of the existence of a Supreme Being: a question that I shall not yet treat; for supposing an internal conviction of this last truth, supposing, in all its force, the idea of a God present to our thoughts; I ask, whether in order to please Him, we should not have need of knowing precisely the period when we could perceive distinct signs of his approbation and beneficence? I ask, again, whether, to avoid incurring His displeasure, it would be equally necessary for us to know how, and in what manner, He would punish us? Undoubtedly not: for in taking a comprehensive view of the rewards and punishments which may proceed from a Supreme Being, struck with His grandeur, and astonished by His power, the vague idea of infinity would obtrude; and this idea, so awful, would suffice to govern our sentiments, and fix our principles of conduct. We should be careful not to propose conditions to Him who has drawn us out of nothing, and we should wait with respect for the moment, when, in His profound wisdom, He may think proper to make us better acquainted with His attributes. Men may say to each other, secure my wages, I want them on such a day, I demand them on such an hour; they barter things of equal value, and during a short space of time; but in the intercourse of man with the Deity, what a difference!—The creature and the Creator—the child of dust and the source of life—a fleeting moment and eternity—an imperceptible atom and the Infinite Being!—our understanding is struck by the contrast! How then should we adapt to such disproportions the rules and notions which we have introduced into our trivial transactions? You require that in order to feel the desire of pleasing the Supreme Being, He should every moment bestow gifts on those, who, by their sentiments and actions, appear worthy of his goodness; and, to inspire the fear of offending Him, you wish that, without delay, He would let His vengeance crush the wicked. Certainly you would be scrupulous observers of His will on such conditions, for less stable hopes and fears detain you servilely near a monarch; and I may venture to say, that you would be equally attentive to the Ruler of the World, if, in order to reward or punish you, he was to alter the laws of nature.
But do we not, you may add, see that God does not interfere in any manner to direct things here below: you do not perceive Him; but do you more clearly discover the power which gives life and motion? It is not because He does not exist, but because He is above the flight of your mind. We do not know what to say to a man who rejects the opinion of the existence of a God; for without that guide all our ideas are wandering, and have not any other connexion but that of the wildest imagination; but if you grant that the world had an origin, if you suppose a God, creator and preserver, what arguments would you use to induce us to believe that this God has no relation to us; that He does not take any notice of us, and that He is thus separated from the offspring of His intelligence and love? You add, vice is every where triumphant, an honest man often languishes in despondency and obscurity; and you cannot reconcile this injustice with the idea of a Divine Providence! One may at first deny the assertion which forms the basis of this reproach, or dispute at least the consequences that are drawn from it: these ideas of triumph and abasement, of splendour and obscurity, are sometimes very foreign to the internal sentiments, which only constitute happiness and misery; and for my part, I am persuaded, that if we take for a rule of comparison, not some particular situation, or some, scattered events, but the whole of life, and the generality of men; we shall then find, that the most constant satisfactions attend those minds which are filled with a mild piety, firm and rational, such as the pure idea of the Deity ought to inspire; and I am equally persuaded, that virtue, united to this piety, which knows how to soften every sacrifice, is the safest guide in the path of life. Perhaps, ignorant as we are of our nature and destination, it is not our interest that uninterrupted rewards should excite us to virtue; for if this virtue were our title and hope with God for the present, and the time to come, we ought not to desire that it should degenerate into an evident calculation, into a sentiment bordering on selfishness. It would then be very difficult to give a proper definition of liberty, if, by the effect of rapid justice, a constant proportion of good and evil, accompanied every determination of our mind; we should then, morally as well as physically, be impelled by an imperious instinct, and the merit of our actions would be absolutely destroyed.
I mean by all this to ask, what would be our merit or demerit, if our life is only for an instant, and if nothing is to follow? The persuasion of the existence of a God, without a certainty of the immortality of our soul, cannot impose any obligation; but the real connexion between these two ideas is too frequently overlooked.
Undoubtedly, left to our understanding, this word certainty is not made for us, or at least it is not applicable to our relation with the Deity, and to the judgment we form of his designs and will. We are too far removed from the High and lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity, to pretend to measure His thoughts by our bounded views. They are covered with a veil, and we always obscurely discern that which is hid in the depths of His wisdom: but the more this God, whom we adore, escapes by His immensity from our conceptions, the less have we a right to limit His perfections, in order to refuse Him the power of transporting our existence beyond the narrow circle submitted to our view; and I know not how it would be possible to persuade us, that this action of the Deity would surpass in grandeur the creation of the world, or the formation of animated beings: the habit of observing a great wonder may weaken our astonishment, but should not eradicate our admiration.
We cannot reach, but by reflection, to those events of which the future is still the depository; but if every thing which surrounds us attests the grandeur of the Supreme Being; if the mind, in its meditations, without terror, approaches the confines of infinity, why mistrust that he can perform in favour of men, a magnificent union of Omnipotence and perfect goodness? Why reject, as an absurd confidence, the idea of another existence? We see, without astonishment, the feeble chrysalis force its way from the tomb it wove for itself, and appear under a new form. We cannot be anticipated witnesses of the perpetuity of our intelligence; but its vast extent would appear to us, were we not familiarized with it, a greater phœnomenon than duration.
In short, why do I resist an idea of a continuation of existence, since I am forced to give credit to my birth? There is a greater distance from nothing to life, than from life to its sequel, or renewal under a new form: I am clearly acquainted with the commencement of existence, I know death only by conjecture. We now enjoy the light and blessings brought to us by a beneficent heavenly Teacher; could it be, that he alone would be a stranger to his own glory and virtues? I cannot say, why this contrast makes an impression on me; but it is among the number of superficial ideas which occur to my mind, when I reflect on this subject.
A comforting thought still strikes me, the natural order of the universe appears to me a finished system: we perceive a perfect regularity between the revolution of the heavenly bodies, an invariable succession in vegetable life, an almost incredible precision in that immense quantity of volatile particles submitted to the laws of affinity; and think every thing in its right place, and that all fulfil exactly their destination in the grand and complete system of nature.
But if we turn afterwards our attention on the multitude of beings inferior to men, we shall discover also, that their action is as complete and conformable in every respect to the faculties they are endowed with, since they are governed by an imperious instinct. Full of these ideas, struck with astonishment at the appearance of an harmony so general, have we not just grounds to presume, that man, transported into infinite space by his intelligence; that man, susceptible of improvement, and continually combatting obstacles; that man, in short, this most noble work of nature, only commences in this sublunary world his race? And, since all which composes the material order of the universe appears to us in an harmony so admirable, ought we not then to conclude, that the moral order in which we perceive some things vague and not determinate; that the moral order is connected with another life more sublime and more astonishing than the other parts of creation, and will one day be ultimately developed? This singular disproportion between the harmony of the physical and apparent confusion of the moral world, seems to announce a time of equilibrium and completion; a time when we shall all know its relation with the wisdom of the Creator, as we already perceive the wisdom of His designs, in the perfect agreement of the innumerable blessings on sature with the present wants of man, and every other animated creature.
The grandeur of the human mind is indeed a vast subject of reflection; this marvellous constitution seems to remind us perpetually of a design proportioned to such a noble conception; it seems almost unnecessary that God should have endowed the soul with such noble faculties for such a short life as ours, to fulfil its limited plans and trivial pursuits: thus every thing authorizes us to carry our views further; were I to see such men as Columbus, Vesputius, Vasco de Gama, in a ship, I should not suppose that they were mere coasters.
Some try to destroy our hopes, by endeavouring to prove, that the soul is material, and that it ought to be assimilated to every thing which perishes before us; but the forms only change, the vivifying force does not perish; perhaps the soul resembles it, but with this difference, that as it is composed of memory, reflection, and foresight, it exists only by a series of consequences, which forms the distinct attributes and particular character of its essence: it follows then, that it cannot be generalized like the blind force which animates in a universal manner vegetation; but that every soul is in some measure a world to itself, and that it ought to preserve separately an identity of interest, and consciousness of preceding thoughts. Thus, in this system, the corporeal body, which distinguishes us to the eyes of others, is only the transitory habitation of that soul which is not to die; of that soul susceptible of continual improvement, and which, by degrees we can have no idea of, will probably approach insensibly to that magnificent period, when it will be thought worthy of knowing more intimately the Author of Nature.
How can we conceive the action of the soul on our senses, without a point of contact? and how conceive that contact, without the idea of matter? For it is only by experience we are acquainted with the necessity of it to occasion a motion; and without that previous knowledge, the rapidity with which one body sometimes strikes another, could only have been represented by the length of time necessary for its approach to it: however, if we had not any metaphysical knowledge of the cause of motion, and if experience only guided our judgment in this respect, why resist an idea that there is within us a faculty which acts of itself? the intimate feeling which we have of it, is certainly an argument for its existence. We cannot, besides, maintain, that a like property may be opposite to the nature of things; since if we adopt the system of the creation of the world, this property may proceed, like all others, from the Divine Power; and if we admit, on the contrary, the irreligious opinion of the eternity of the universe, there must have been from eternity a general movement without impulsion, without exterior contact, or any cause out of itself; and the action of our souls might be subject to the same laws.
The idea of the necessity of a contact, to effect a movement, would never have occurred, if we had bounded our observations to the influence of our ideas on our determinations, and the influence of those determinations on our physical being. In short, the laws of attraction and repulsion are subject to great exceptions; which exceptions may serve to support the system of the spirituality of the soul. We may be allowed to say, that there exists a vacuum in the universe, since, without this vacuum, there could not have been any motion? It is known that this motion depends on the laws of attraction but how can attraction act through a vacuum, unless it is by a spiritual force, which acts without contact, and notwithstanding the absolute interruption of matter? It is then this force, or its equivalent, that I may adopt to define the cause of the impressions of which our souls are susceptible.
Let others explain, in their turn, by what material communication, the sight of a few immoveable characters, traced on insensible marble, disturbs my soul. It is very easy to comprehend by what mechanism the eye distinguishes these characters; but there ends the physical action, for we cannot attribute to that action, the general power of producing sensations in the mind, since, perhaps, many other men may consider the same characters, without receiving any impression.
It is very possible, that our intellectual preceptions have not any connection with motion, such as we conceive it. Our interior nature, which we distinguish by the name of immaterial, is probably subject to laws very different from those which govern nature in general; but as we are obliged to apply to the mysteries of our souls, those expressions which serve to delineate or to interpret the phœnomena submitted to our inspection; these expressions, and their continual use, have insensibly habituated us to certain opinions, about the causes and developement of our intellectual faculties. It is thus that, after having used the words motion, rest, agitation, and action, to discriminate different affections of our souls, of which we know very little, we have afterwards assimilated them, foolishly, to our moral nature, to all the ideas which were represented by these denominations; and even death itself, of which we have not any clear knowledge, but by the dissolution of our physical being; death, an image borrowed from things which are under the inspection of our senses, has not, perhaps, either relation or analogy with the nature and essence of our spirit; all these are incomprehensible secrets, not mixt with any thing we are acquainted with.
We act, in this respect, like men born deaf, who apply to sounds those terms which they were accustomed to use, to express the sensations the other senses produced.
I shall only add another observation to the ideas on which I have just dwelt: perhaps we should never have thought of applying the words which express action and motion, to all the operations of our souls, if we had not at first divided our spiritual being into a great number of dependencies, such as attention, reflection, thought, judgment, imagination, memory, and foresight; and if afterwards, in order to render intelligible the variable relations of these abstract parts of our mind (these parts of a unit which we have taken to pieces, though it composed that single being ourself) we had not been obliged to have recourse to some plain expressions, like those of action, motion, attraction, and repulsion; but this familiar use of these expressions, in order to explain the accidents of our intellectual system, very much resembles the use which we make of X in Algebra, to express unknown terms.
In short, were we to submit the action of our souls to the laws of a particular movement, forming one of the dependencies of the great one, we should still have to explain the cause of the consciousness that we have of this action, which Atheists refuse to nature itself, at the very moment they make it the God of the Universe. Were reasoning able to subject all the operations of our mind to the impressions of external objects, we could not rank under the same laws, that consciousness which we have of our existence, and of the different faculties of the soul. This consciousness is not an effect, or the production of any known force, since it has been always in us independent of any external object, consequently we cannot investigate it. The conception of the existence of our souls, is as incomprehensible to us as that of eternity; what a profound thought, which even our imagination cannot embrace!
Let us admit, however, for a moment, that all the operations of our souls are determined by some impulsion, whatever it may be, we shall still be struck with the absolute difference which exists, according to our knowledge between the regular movements of matter, and the almost infinite and unaccountable emotions of our hearts and minds; so variable and so differently modified, that the attention is lost in the examination of them. And after having vainly endeavoured to conceive the union established between our thoughts and exterior objects, we have still to form an idea of the actions of these thoughts on themselves, their progression and connection; our mind led astray, lost in such a meditation, leaves us only a consciousness of our weakness, and we feel, that there is an intellectual altitude which the human faculties can never reach.
We distinguish, in a single character which our judgment can decypher, an absolute difference between soul and matter: we cannot avoid representing the latter as infinitely divisible, whilst, on the contrary, all the efforts of our imagination could never divide that indivisible unit which composes the soul, and which is the sovereign over our will, thoughts, and all our faculties[5].
But if we examine again, under another appearance, the properties of matter, we know not how to assimilate to them the emotions of our soul; for we distinctly feel those emotions, let their number be ever so numerous, when even they act together and terminate in the same center, which is that Indivisible Being before alluded to; whereas matter, by an essential property, cannot, in the same instant be pressed or struck in several manners, unless it is in parts which have a tendency to different centres.
There is not then any resemblance between the impressions that our souls receive, and the various effects which may be attributed to the action of all the material substances of which we can form any conception: they are always connected with the idea of space and extent; but that centre, where all our perceptions meet, that Judge, who dictates laws in the internal empire, whose revolutions we only know, that last Director of our will, this Indivisible Being, at the same time our friend and master, is not to be found in any compounded idea; and this unity so simple, ought necessarily to convince us, that nothing which is submitted to the dominion of our senses, can serve as a type of the idea which we are to form of the soul.
We discover the traces of this truth, when we fix our attention on the comparisons with which our spiritual unit, our identical self, is continually occupied: we imagine it seated on a throne, listening, and examining the various reasons which ought to determine its action; we see it, like Nero, yielding sometimes to Narcissus, and sometimes to Burrhus; but at the same time we distinctly perceive all the counsellors, all the flatterers, all the enemies which surround it; we never remark but a single master in the midst of the tumult and the intrigues of this court.