Part 16

The author of a celebrated work accuses men of presumption, because, when they endeavour to trace the first principle of things, by comparing their own faculties with it, they seem to think that they approach it. But, what other part should we be able to take, when we are called to reason and to judge? It is not sufficient that the idea of the Supreme Being may be metaphysical; it is necessary further, some will argue, that we even try to render it abstract, by removing it out of our imagination, and that we seek for, in our judgment and opinions, a support which may be in a manner absent from ourselves, and absolutely foreign to our nature. All this cannot be understood: we confess that we have not sufficient strength to know the essence and perfection of God, but giving way to abstraction, we extinguish our natural light, and deprive ourselves of the few means we have to obtain this knowledge; we can only be acquainted with unknown things by the help of those we know: we shall be led astray, if we are obliged to take another road; and modern philosophers often seek to attack intimate sentiments by arbitrary ideas, of which an imagination the most capricious is the only foundation.

It will then always be surprizing, that in our contemplations and habits of thinking, the wisdom of the design, the harmony of the whole, and the perfection of parts, are manifest traces of intelligence; and yet that we should renounce, suddenly, this manner of feeling and judging, in order to attribute the formation of the universe to the effect of chance, or the eternal laws of blind necessity; and is it possible, that we can deduce the same consequences from an admirable order, as from wild confusion? Facts so different, principles so contrary, should not lead to the same conclusion; the magnificent system of the universe ought to have some weight, when we conjecture about its origin; and it would be difficult to persuade us, that in investigating the most exalted truths, we ought to consider all the knowledge we acquire by the view of nature as merely indifferent. Men are carried very far, when they reject the arguments drawn from final causes; it is not only a single thought they would destroy, it is the source of all our knowledge they would dry up.

Men insensibly cease to perceive a connexion between the existence of a God, and the different miracles with which we are surrounded; but all would be changed, if God exhibited the numerous acts of his power successively, instead of displaying them all at once; our imagination, animated by such a movement, would rise to the idea of a Supreme Being; it is then, because an accumulation of wonders aggrandizes the universe; it is because a harmony, not to be equalled, seems to convert an infinity of parts into an admirable whole; and that profound wisdom maintains it in an immutable equilibrium; it is, in short, because insensible gradations and delicate shades render still more perfect the wonders of nature, that men are less struck with astonishment, or lost in adoration.

We want, say you, new phœnomena to determine our persuasion: do you forget, that all which is offered to our view already surpasses our understanding? If the least miracle was to be effected before you, you would be ready to bend your proud reason; but because the most grand and wonderful, which the imagination itself can form an idea of, has preceded your existence, you receive no impression from it, all appears simple to you, all necessary. But, the reality of the wonders of the universe has nothing to do with the instant you are allowed to contemplate them: your pilgrimage on earth, is it not a period imperceptible in the midst of eternity? admiration, surprise, and all the affections of which man is susceptible, do not change the nature of the phœnomena which surround him; and his intelligence reflects but a very small part of the wonders of the universe.

We have no need of a revolution in the order of nature, to discover the power of its author; the fibres of a blade of grass confound our intelligence, and when we have grown old in study and observation, we continually discover new objects, which we have not investigated, and perceive new relations; we are ever in the midst of unknown things and incomprehensible secrets.

However, supposing, for a moment, the existence of extraordinary miracles which we should be impressed with; it is easy to conceive, that these miracles would not have on men the influence we presume; for if they were frequent, and if they happened only at regular periods, their first impression, would slowly be weakened, and, at last, men would range them in the class of the successive movements of eternal matter. But if, on the contrary, there was a long interval between these miracles, the generations who succeeded the actual witnesses of them would accuse their ancestors of credulity, or contest the truth of those traditions, which transmitted the account of a revolution contrary to the common course of nature.

Some may still say, that, in order to render manifest the existence of the Supreme Being, it would be necessary that men were punctually answered, when they address their prayers; but the influence of our wishes upon events, if this influence was habitual and general, would it be sufficient to change the opinion of those who see, with indifference, that innumerable multitude of actions which are so miraculously subject to our will? Would they not still find some reason for considering such an increase of power, as the necessary result of the eternal system of the universe? Thus, whatever might be the measure of intelligence, added to that we now enjoy, in short, though a number of new wonders were accumulated, men could still oppose to that union of miracles the same objections, and the same doubts they do not now fear to raise against the wonders we are daily witnesses of. It is difficult, it is impossible, to make a constant or profound impression on men who are only susceptible of astonishment in the short transition from the known to the unknown; they have but a moment to feel this emotion, and it is from the slowness of their comprehension, or the continual succession of the phœnomena submitted to their inspection, that the duration of their admiration depends. And, perhaps, our faculties and powers would excite more surprise, if, in order to subject our movements to our will, it were necessary to give our orders, and to pronounce them with a loud voice, as a captain does to his soldiers; however, such a constitution would be a degree less wonderful than that we possess.

I will anticipate another objection; we advance gradually, some will say, in discovering the secrets of nature; the power of attraction, that grand physical faculty, has only been known about a century, and observations on the effects of electricity are still more recent; every age, every year, adds to the treasure of our knowledge, and the time will arrive, perhaps, when, without having recourse to any mysterious opinions, we shall have explained all the phœnomena which still astonish us.

It is not at first conceivable, how our past discoveries, and all those which may in future enrich the human mind, would ever free us from the necessity of placing a first cause at the termination of our reflections; for, the more we perceive of new links in the vast disposition of the universe, the more we extend the magnificence of the work, and the power of the Creator. A series of successful exertions may reveal, perhaps, the secret of some physical properties, superior in force to those we have experienced: but, even then, all the movements of nature would be subordinate to a few general laws; and when we should distinguish these laws, the result of our researches would demonstrate simply the existence of a greater unity in the system of the world; and this character of perfection would be impressed, if it was possible, still more on us; for, in a work, such as the universe, it is the simple and regular relations which announce, above all, the wisdom and power of the Disposer; because our admiration could never be excited by an assemblage of incoherent ideas, whose chain would every instant be broken. But, I know not by what habit or blindness it is, that when men have discovered a principle uniform in its action, and have given to that principle a denomination, they believe that their astonishment ought to cease: in fact, attraction and electricity are not so much now subjects of surprise, as a means to free us from the admiration due to the magnificent result of those singular properties; in short, we are habituated to consider, with indifference, every general effect, of which we acquire a conception, as if even this conception was not one of the most noble of the phœnomena of nature. Some will say, that men, by degrees, becoming familiarized with their own minds, despise all they can easily understand; their competitions are then the only origin of their vanity; for when they examine themselves individually, or when they judge of men in general, they have such a mean opinion of themselves, that they do not highly value their discoveries.

We ought to place, amongst the number of ideas the most extensive and general, that of Buffon on the formation of the earth; but this idea, supposing it as just as it is beautiful, only explains to us one of the gradations of this superb work. I see the earth formed by an emanation of the sun; I see it animated and become fertile, when it has received, by slow degree, its temperature; and I see, beside, issue out of its lap all the beauties of nature; and that which surprises me still more, all the beings endowed with instinct or intelligence; but if the elements of these incomprehensible productions had been prepared or simply disposed in the fiery body which animates our system, I transfer to it my astonishment, and equally have to seek for the author of so many wonders.

I must now fix my attention, for a few moments, on the most metaphysical part of this work. We can, perhaps, form an idea of a world existing without a beginning, and by the laws of blind necessity, provided that world was immoveable and invariable in all its parts; but how apply the idea of eternity to a continual succession; as such a nature is necessarily composed of a beginning and end, we cannot otherwise define the idea of succession; thus, we are constrained to elevate ourselves to a first Being existing by himself, when we have before our eyes a constant revolution of causes and effects, of destruction and life. It is impossible to have any idea of motion without that of a beginning.

The difficulty would not be removed, by saying, that the whole of the universe is immutable, and the parts only subject to change; for a whole of this kind, without any relation whatever, either real or imaginary, a like whole has only an ideal circumscription, which, in fact, is not susceptible of an alteration; but such a circumscription only presents us an assemblage of positive things contained in its circle; and it is not in studying those, nor in examining the different parts of the unknown whole, which we call the universe, that we are allowed to draw consequences, or to form a judgment. Thus, seeing only a succession, we rationally feel the necessity of a first cause.

But, some will say, you are entangled in the same difficulty, when you suppose the eternity of a God; for a series of designs in an intelligent being should lead to the idea of a commencement, as well as the successions of the physical world.

This proposition, undoubtedly, is not easily cleared up, like all those whose solution appears to be united to the knowledge of infinity. We cannot, however, hinder ourselves from perceiving, that the physical generations lead us, in a manner simple and manifest, to the necessity of a first principle; and we ought to search for this principle out of ourselves, since our nature does not furnish any idea of it; whereas, the successive combinations of the mind may relate to an origin, of which we have not any conception, and which seems united, in some manner, to these same combinations. In fact, we can easily form a distinct idea of a faculty of thought, antecedent to the action of thinking, and which might even be separated by such intervals as the imagination could conceive. It is the same with liberty, that intellectual power of which we have the consciousness, at the same time that it remains absolutely idle.

I shall add, that, even in the narrow circle of our thoughts, it is true, the operations of the mind appear to us often dependant on each other; yet, sometimes their chain is so broken, that our ideas seem really to issue out of nothing; instead of which, in every other production, we know, there is always a visible tie between that which is, and that which was. We must not forget, that at the very time our ideas appear to us connected, that succession is to be attributed to our weakness and ignorance, rather than to the mind, considered in a general manner. Circumscribed in all our means, we are obliged to go continually from the known to the unknown, from probability to certainty, from experience of the past, to conjectures about the future; but this gradation, this course, ought to be absolutely foreign to an intelligence without bounds, which knows and which sees all at the same time; and perhaps we are in the way of this truth, when we perceive, amongst us, the claim of true genius, and the turbulent whirlpool of folly.

In short, it is not men persuaded of the existence of a God, that we need require to transport themselves beyond, if I may say so, the domain of thought, in order to search for proofs of their opinion; atheists alone want such an effort, since they alone resist the influence of the simplest sentiments and most natural arguments; since they alone bid us mistrust that distinct connexion which we perceive between the Supreme Intelligence and the perfection of order; that train of causes and effects, between the idea of a God and all the propensities of the soul; it is these considerations, intelligible to all, which give new force to our opinions.

Directed by these reflections, and wishing to investigate in a useful manner the subject I have undertaken, I shall not engage in the arguments which turn on the creation of the world. It is sufficient for me to have perceived, that the idea of the creation of the universe is not more inconceivable than the idea of its eternity; I am not indeed obliged, with those who adopt the last system, to suppose something growing out of nothing; but substituting the idea of an eternal existence, instead of that of nothing, is a thought which equally terrifies my imagination; for my mind knows not where to place that eternity and in order to comprehend it still surrounds it with a vacuum. In the system of a created universe, I see something coming out of nothing, by the will of a Being whom I can form an idea of; but in the system of the eternity of matter, my faculties are absorbed in endeavouring to embrace it; in short, both of these modes of existence appear to me in the midst of a vague infinity, which no human power can conceive; and if sometimes the eternal existence of the universe seems less incomprehensible than its creation, it is only because such an idea eludes examination and precludes reasoning.

The idea of a Creator is undoubtedly equally above our comprehension, but we are led to it by all our feelings and thoughts; and if we are stopped in the efforts which we make to reach the cause we seek, it is by obstacles which we can even attribute to the will of that power we are searching to discover; instead of that, contemplating the uniform and insipid rotation of an eternal existence, we are almost driven to despair, that is to say, we feel the impossibility of conceiving the nature of things, and the certainty, nevertheless, that there exists not any veil designedly placed between that nature and our understandings.

I must still make some further observations; we see a resemblance of creation in the continual reproduction of all the bounties of the earth; and our moral system offers a still more striking one, in the formation of ideas which did not exist antecedently. Our feelings appear another proof of the same truth; for they have not any evident connexion with the cause that we assign them: thus, without habit we might see as great a difference between certain exterior emotions and the various affections of our souls, as we can conceive between the existence of the world and the idea of a Creator.

We perceive also, that the universe has all the characters of a production; characters which consist in the union of a multitude of parts, whose relations are fixed by a single thought. In short, even the succession of time announces intelligence; for we know not how to place that succession in the midst of an eternal existence. We cannot conceive any different periods in an extent in which there is not a beginning; for before we arrive at any of these periods, there must have been always an infinite space; besides, there being no beginning, considered abstractedly, annihilates the idea of intervals, since they could not have two fixed points: thus, the introduction of the past, the present, and the future, into the midst of eternity, seems due to an intelligent power, who has modelled this immense uniformity, and governs the nature of things.

I ought not to dwell long on these reflections; to give a basis to religious opinions, it is not necessary to conceive of creation in its metaphysical essence; it is sufficient, to believe the existence of a Supreme Being, creator and preserver of nature, the model of wisdom and goodness, the protector of rational beings, whose providence governs the world. We lose all our strength when extending too far our meditations, we aspire to know and explain the secrets of infinity; we then only exhibit to the adversaries of religion the faint stretch of our opinions, and the last struggles of a reason weakened by its own efforts; it is much better to use those arguments which sense and feeling are able to defend. We should candidly confess, that our noblest faculties have immutable limits; one degree more would perhaps diffuse a sudden light on the questions, whose examination disconcerts us. There is not perhaps any mind accustomed to meditation, which has not had several times pre-sentiments of this truth; for the first glimmering of a new perception seems to out-run thinking, and such is its proximity that we imagine one step more would enable us to catch it; but our hope is dissipated, we cannot grasp the fleeting shadow, and fall back again into the sad conviction of our impotence. Alas! in that infinite space which our intellectual powers try to run over, there are only immense deserts, where the mind cannot find repose, or the thoughts meet any asylum; these are the regions whose entrance seems to have been desolated, in order that the most unbounded imagination might not obtain any knowledge of them; but will you dare to say, that there stops all intelligence, there finishes the mysteries of nature? would you expect to possess the secrets of time in attributing an eternal existence to all we know? Certainly, we are too insignificant to promulge such decrees, we enjoy too small a portion of eternity to determine what belongs to it.

The most probable thought is, that our reason is insufficient to reach the explanations we wish to unfold; the chain of beings above us every instant reminds us of this truth; and it appears singular, that perceiving so distinctly the bounds of our senses, we should not be induced to think, that our intelligence, apparently so extended, may nevertheless run over a very circumscribed space. Our imagination goes much farther than our knowledge, but its domain is perhaps only a point in what is yet unexplored; and it is necessary to penetrate those unknown regions, to discover the truths which illustrate the mysteries that surround us; but there is a Being who knows them, Omniscience is at the summit of those gradations of intelligence which we trace. We know nothing, we do not discover any result but through the assistance of experience and observation; and we only know the world by the little front scene which meets our view: is it rational to suppose, that only this kind of knowledge exists in the universe? Men, in the slow progress of their judgment, resemble children; but even this condition recals the idea of a father and a tutor. Every thing however shows us, that the phœnomena of nature relate to a grand whole; we see that its dispersed productions are united to some general cause; it is the same with human knowledge; more admirable than the rays of light spread through immensity, it is an emanation from the most perfect light. In short, if space, if time itself, those two existences without bounds, are subject to division, why should we not be induced to think, that the degrees of knowledge we experience and conceive, are also only a part of a universal intelligence?

Of all the objections against the idea of a God, the weakest, in my opinion, is that drawn from the mixture of troubles and pleasures to which human life is exposed. A God, some will say, ought to unite every perfection, and we cannot believe in his existence, when we perceive limits in his power or goodness.

This is a flimsy argument; for, if men do not admit as a proof of the existence of a God, all that we discover of wisdom, harmony, and intelligence in the universe, what right have they to use an apparent contrast between sovereign power and goodness, in order to attribute the formation of the world to chance. Would it be just, that the defects of a work should be brought as a proof against the existence of a workman, whilst the beauty of the same work was not allowed to support a contrary opinion? We should reason in a different manner; disorder and imperfection merely point out to us a negation of certain qualities; we must, in general terms, throw an odium on the whole, in order to banish the idea of an intelligent hand; whereas, to strengthen the other opinion, it is sufficient that particular parts announce art and genius. Thus, when we enter a palace, if we find there distinct marks of talents, we attribute its erection to an architect, even though in a part of the edifice we should not distinguish any traces of invention.

I have already had occasion to show how we are led to these incomprehensible extremes, when we endeavour exactly to proportion the wisdom and power of an Infinite Being, and I shall not again dwell on this argument: or repeat that from any imaginable hypothesis, we might draw this deduction, that Omnipotence could have produced more happiness.