WRONG ACTION OF MIND, AND ITS RESULTS IN A FUTURE STATE.
We are now to inquire as to the results of the wrong action of mind in a
future state, so far as reason and experience can furnish data for any
anticipations.
The following are the principles of mind from which we reason on this
subject. It appears that its constitution is such that the repetition of
one particular mode of securing happiness induces a habit; and that the
longer a habit continues, the more powerful is its force. An early habit
of selfishness is always formed in the human mind, and the penalties
following from self-indulgence and selfishness are not sufficient to
prevent the continued increase of this habit. Though men, from the very
beginning of existence, feel that they are happier in obeying the
dictates of conscience, and that increase of guilt is increase of
sorrow, yet this does not save them, in numberless cases, from
increasing evil habits.
It is also established by experience that, when a strong habit is
formed, the mere decisions of the will are not sufficient for an
immediate remedy. In this life, it requires a period of long and painful
efforts of the will to rectify an established habit. Every human being
is conscious how difficult it is to force the mental and bodily
faculties to obey its decisions when contrary to the stream of a
long-indulged habit. There are few who have not either experienced or
witnessed the anguish of spirit that has followed the violations of
solemn resolutions, those firmest decisions of the will, in the contest
between habit and conscience.
Another principle of mind is this, that when selfishness and crime have
been long indulged, the natural constitution of mind seems changed, so
that inflicting evil on others is sought as an enjoyment. In
illustration of this, it is related of Antiochus Epiphanes that, in his
wars with the Jews, after all opposition had ceased, and all danger and
cause of fear was removed, he destroyed thousands for the mere pleasure
of seeing them butchered. An anecdote is related of him, too horrible to
record in all its particulars, where he sat and feasted his eyes on the
sufferings of a mother and her seven sons, when the parent was doomed to
witness the infliction of the most excruciating and protracted tortures
on each of her seven children, and then was tortured to death herself.
It is recorded of Mustapha, one of the Turkish sultans, that by
honorable capitulations he gained the person of a brave Venetian
commander called Bragadino, who was defending his country from the
cruelty of invaders. After having promised him honorable protection, he
ordered him, bound hand and foot, to behold the massacre of his
soldiers, then caused his person to be cut and mutilated in the most
horrible manner, and then taunted him as a worshiper of Christ, who
could not save his servants. When recovered of his wounds, he obliged
him to carry loaded buckets of earth before the army, and kiss the
ground whenever he passed his barbarous tormentor. He then had him hung
in a cage, to be tormented by his own soldiers, who were chained as
galley-slaves, that they might be agonized by the indignities and
sufferings of their venerated commander. After the most protracted
sufferings and indignities in the public place, at the sound of music he
was flayed alive.
The history of some of the Roman emperors, even of some who, in early
childhood and youth, were gentle, amiable, and kind, presents the same
horrible picture. Nero set fire to Rome, and dressed the Christians in
garments of flaming pitch, to run about his garden for his amusement.
Tiberius tormented his subjects, and murdered them in cruel pangs, to
gratify his love of suffering, while Caligula butchered his people for
amusement with his own hand.
The mind turns with horror from such revolting scenes, and asks if it is
possible human nature _now_ can be so perverted and debased. But this is
the humiliating record of some of the _amusements_, even of our own
countrymen, that have occurred in some parts of this refined and
Christian nation. "Many of the interludes are filled up with a _boxing
match_, which becomes memorable by feats of _gouging_. When two boxers
are wearied with fighting and bruising each other, they come to close
quarters, each endeavoring to twist his forefinger into the earlocks of
his antagonist. When they are thus fast clenched, the thumbs are
extended, and _both the eyes_ are turned out of their sockets. The
victor is hailed with shouts of applause from the sporting throng, while
his poor antagonist, thus blinded for life, _is laughed at_ for his
misfortune."
One very striking fact bearing on this subject has been established by
experience, and that is, that _extreme suffering_, either mental or
bodily, tends to awaken the desire to inflict evil upon other minds.
This is probably one mode of accounting for the increased cruelty of the
Roman emperors. As the powers of enjoyment diminished by abuse, and the
horrors of guilt harassed their spirits, this dreadful desire to torment
others was awakened.
There are many undisputed facts to establish the principle that extreme
suffering is the cause of terrible malignity. The following is from a
statement of Mr. Byron, who was shipwrecked on the coast of South
America: "So terrible was the scene of foaming breakers, that one of the
bravest men could not help expressing his dismay, saying it was too
shocking to bear. In this dreadful situation malignant passions began to
appear. The crew grew extremely riotous, and fell to beating every thing
in their way, and broke open chests and cabins for plunder that could be
of no use. So earnest were they in this wantonness of theft, that in the
morning a strangled corpse was found of one who had contested the
spoil."
A still more terrible picture is given in an account of the loss of the
Medusa frigate on the coast of Africa. In the midst of dreadful
suffering from cold, danger, and famine, it is recorded that "a spirit
of sedition arose and manifested itself by furious shouts. The soldiers
and sailors began to cut the ropes, and declared their intention of
murdering the officers. About midnight, they rushed on the officers like
desperate men, each having a knife or sabre, and such was their fury
that they tore their clothes and their flesh _with their teeth_. The
next morning the raft was strewed with dead bodies. The succeeding night
was passed in similar horrors, and the morning sun saw twelve more
lifeless bodies. The next night of suffering was attended with a horrid
massacre, and thus it continued till only fifteen remained of the whole
one hundred and fifty!"
Another principle of mind having a bearing on this subject is the fact
that those qualities of mind which are the causes of enjoyment in others
around may be viewed with only pain and dislike by a selfish person.
Thus intellectual superiority, in itself considered, is a delightful
object of contemplation; but if it becomes the means of degradation or
of contemptuous comparison to a selfish mind, it is viewed with
unmingled pain. Benevolence and truth are objects of delightful
contemplation to all minds when disconnected with obligations or painful
comparisons, but if they are viewed as causes of evil to a selfish mind,
it will view them with unmingled dislike and hatred.
Now we find that there are two classes of minds in this world: those who
are more or less benevolent, and find their happiness in living to
promote the general interests of their fellow-beings, and those who are
selfish, and are living to promote their own enjoyment irrespective of
the general happiness.
If, then, we reason from the known laws of mind and from past
experience, we must suppose that the habits of mind which are existing
in this life will continue to increase, and if the mind is immortal, a
time must come when one class will become perfectly benevolent and the
other perfectly selfish. A community of perfectly benevolent beings, it
has been shown, would, from the very nature and constitution of mind, be
a perfectly happy community. Every source of enjoyment of which mind is
capable would be secured by every individual.
It can be seen, also, that there must, in the nature of the case, be an
entire separation between two such opposite classes; for it is as
painful for minds suffering from conscious guilt, shame, and malignity,
to look upon purity, benevolence, and happiness, as it is for the
virtuous to associate with the selfish, the debased, and the abandoned.
This separation, therefore, would be a voluntary one on both sides, even
did we suppose no interference of Deity. But if the Creator continues
his present constitution of things, we may infer that his power would be
exerted to prevent the intrusion of malignity into a perfect and
well-ordered community; for he has so constituted things _here_, that
those who are incorrigible pests to society are confined from
interfering with its interests.
From the laws of mind, then, and from past experience as to the
tendencies of things, we can establish the position that, at some future
period, if the mind of man is immortal, the human race will be
permanently divided into two classes, the perfectly selfish and the
perfectly benevolent.
Should it be objected to this conclusion that when the mind passes into
another world more effectual motives may be brought to operate, it may
be replied that it is not the office of reason to meet _suppositions_ of
_possibilities_, but to show what the _probabilities_ are by deductions
from principles already known. A thousand possibilities may be asserted,
such as the annihilation of mind or the alteration of its powers, but
these are mere suppositions, and have nothing to do with the conclusions
of reason.
If mind is immortal and continues its present nature, habits will
continue to strengthen; and in regard to motives, we know already that
the _fear of evil consequences_ will not save from continuance in crime.
How often has a man who has yielded to habits of guilt been seen
writhing in the agonies of remorse, longing to free himself from the
terrible evils he has drawn around him, acknowledging the misery of his
course and his ability to return to virtue, and yet, with bitter
anguish, yielding to the force of inveterate habits and despairing of
any remedy.
We know, also, that it is a principle established by long experience,
that punishment does not tend to soften and reform. Where is the
hardened culprit that was ever brought to repentance and reformation by
lashes or the infliction of degradation? Such means serve only to harden
and brutify. Experience forbids the hope that punishment will ever
restore a selfish and guilty mind to virtue and peace.
Reason and experience, then, both lead to the conclusion that the two
classes of minds into which mankind are here divided will, on leaving
this world, eventually become two permanently distinct communities--one
perfectly selfish, and the other perfectly benevolent.
What, then, would reason and experience teach us as to the probable
situation of a community of minds constituted like those of the human
race, who, in the progress of future ages, shall establish habits of
_perfect selfishness and crime_?
In regard to the Creator, what may we suppose will be the feelings of
such minds? If he is a benevolent, pure, and perfectly happy being, and
his power is exerted to confine them from inflicting evil on the good,
he will be the object of unmingled and tormenting envy, hatred, and
spite; for when a selfish mind beholds a being with characteristics
which exhibit its own vileness in painful contrast, and using his power
to oppose its desires, what might in other circumstances give pleasure
will only be cause of pain. If they behold, also, the purity and
happiness of that community of benevolent beings from which they will be
withdrawn, the same baleful passions will be awakened in view of their
excellence and enjoyment.
There is no suffering of the mind more dreaded and avoided than that of
_shame_. It is probable a guilty creature never writhes under keener
burnings of spirit than when all his course of meanness, baseness,
ingratitude, and guilt is unveiled in the presence of dignified virtue,
honor, and purity, and the withering glance of pity, contempt, and
abhorrence is encountered. This feeling must be experienced, to its full
extent, by every member of such a wretched community. Each must feel
himself an object of loathing and contempt to every pure and benevolent
mind, as well as to all those who are equally debased.
Another cause of suffering is ungratified desire. In this world, perfect
misery and full happiness is seldom contrasted. But in such
circumstances, if we suppose that the happiness of blessed minds will be
known, the keenest pangs of ungratified desire must torment. Every mind
will know what is the pure delight of yielded and reciprocated
affection, of sympathy in the happiness of others, of the sweet peace of
conscious rectitude, and of the delightful consciousness of conferring
bliss on others, while the ceaseless cravings of hopeless desire will
agonize the spirit.
Another cause of suffering is found in the _loss of enjoyment_. In such
a degraded and selfish community, all ties of country, kindred,
friendship, and love must cease. Yet all will know what _were_ the
endearments of home, the mild soothings of maternal love, the ties of
fraternal sympathy, and all the trust and tenderness of friendship and
love. What vanished blessing of earth would not rise up, with all the
sweetness and freshness that agonizing memory can bring, to aggravate
the _loss of all_!
But the mind is so made that, however wicked itself, guilt and
selfishness in others is hated and despised. Such a company, then, might
be described as those who were "hateful and hating one another." It has
been shown that both suffering and selfishness awaken the desire to
torment others. This, then, will be the detested purpose of every
malignant mind. Every action that could irritate, mortify, and enrage,
would be deliberately practiced, while disappointed hopes, and blasted
desires, and agonizing misery would alone awaken the smile of horrible
delight. And if we suppose such minds in a future state reclothed in a
body, with all the present susceptibilities of suffering, and surrounded
by material elements that may be ministers of hate, what mind can
conceive the terror and chaos of a world where every one is actuated by
a desire to torment?
Suppose these beings had arrived at only such a degree of selfishness as
has been witnessed in this world; such, for example, as Genghis Khan,
who caused unoffending prisoners to be pounded to death with bricks in a
mortar; or Nero, who dressed the harmless Christians in flaming pitch
for his amusement; or Antiochus Epiphanes and Mustapha, who spent their
time in devising and executing the most excruciating tortures on those
who could do them no injury. What malignity and baleful passions would
actuate such minds, when themselves tormented by others around, bereft
of all hope, and with nothing to interest them but plans of torment and
revenge! What refined systems of cruelty would be devised in such a
world! what terrific combinations of the elements to terrify and
distress! If such objects as "the lake which burneth with fire and
brimstone, and the worm that never dies," could be found, no Almighty
hand would need to interfere, while the "smoke of their torment" would
arise from flames of their own kindling.
To fearful sufferings thus inflicted would be added the pangs of
agitating _fear_; for where all around were plotting misery, what
relief, by day or by night, from its withering terrors? Then surely
"fear would come upon them like desolation, and destruction as a
whirlwind."
Another cause of suffering is inactivity of body and mind. It has been
seen that the desire of good is what gives activity to the intellectual
and moral powers. In such a world, no good could be hoped or sought, but
the gratification of inflicting ill. And even a malignant mind must
often weary in this pursuit, and sink under all the weight and misery of
that awful _death of the soul_, when, in torpid inactivity, it has
nothing to love, nothing to hope, nothing to desire!
Another cause of misery is the consciousness of guilt; and such, even in
this life, have been the agonies of remorse, that tearing the hair,
bruising the body, and even gnawing the flesh have been resorted to as a
temporary relief from its pangs. What, then, would be its agonizing
throes in bosoms that live but to torment and to destroy all good to
themselves and to other minds?
In this life, where we can allow the mind to be engrossed by other
pursuits, and where we can thus form a habit of suppressing and avoiding
emotions of guilt, the conscience may be seared. But it could not be
thus when all engaging and cheerful pursuits were ended forever. Then
the mind would view its folly, and shame, and guilt in all their length
and breadth, and find no escape from the soul-harrowing gaze.
To these miseries must be added despair--the loss of all hope. Here hope
comes to all; but, in such a community, that fearful susceptibility of
the soul--that terrific power of _habit_--would bind in chains which
would be felt to be stronger than brass and heavier than iron. If the
spirit is conscious that its powers are immortal, with this
consciousness would come the despairing certainty of increasing and
never-ending woe!
This terrifying and heart-rending picture, it must be remembered, is the
_deduction of reason_, and who can point out its fallacy? Is not habit
appalling in its power, and ofttimes, even in this life, inveterate in
its hold? Are not habits increased by perpetual repetition? Is not the
mind of man immortal? Do not the tendencies of this life indicate a
period when a total separation of selfish and benevolent minds will be
their own voluntary choice? If all the comforts, gentle endearments, and
the enlivening hopes of this life; if all the restraints of
self-interest, family, country, and laws; if in Christian lands the
offers of heaven, and the fearful predictions of eternal woe; if the
mercy and pardon, and all the love and pity of our Creator and Redeemer,
neither by fear, nor by gratitude, nor by love, can turn a selfish mind,
what hope of its recovery when it goes a _stranger_ into a world of
spirits, to sojourn in that society which, according to its moral
habits, it must voluntarily seek? And if there exists a community of
such selfish beings, can language portray, with any adequacy, the
appalling results that must necessarily ensue?