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.