PART 8

What you ascribe to the fertility of my invention, replied PHILO, is

entirely owing to the nature of the subject. In subjects adapted to the

narrow compass of human reason, there is commonly but one determination,

which carries probability or conviction with it; and to a man of sound

judgement, all other suppositions, but that one, appear entirely absurd

and chimerical. But in such questions as the present, a hundred

contradictory views may preserve a kind of imperfect analogy; and

invention has here full scope to exert itself. Without any great effort

of thought, I believe that I could, in an instant, propose other systems

of cosmogony, which would have some faint appearance of truth, though it

is a thousand, a million to one, if either yours or any one of mine be

the true system.

For instance, what if I should revive the old EPICUREAN hypothesis? This

is commonly, and I believe justly, esteemed the most absurd system that

has yet been proposed; yet I know not whether, with a few alterations, it

might not be brought to bear a faint appearance of probability. Instead

of supposing matter infinite, as EPICURUS did, let us suppose it finite.

A finite number of particles is only susceptible of finite transpositions:

and it must happen, in an eternal duration, that every possible order or

position must be tried an infinite number of times. This world, therefore,

with all its events, even the most minute, has before been produced and

destroyed, and will again be produced and destroyed, without any bounds

and limitations. No one, who has a conception of the powers of infinite,

in comparison of finite, will ever scruple this determination.

But this supposes, said DEMEA, that matter can acquire motion, without

any voluntary agent or first mover.

And where is the difficulty, replied PHILO, of that supposition? Every

event, before experience, is equally difficult and incomprehensible; and

every event, after experience, is equally easy and intelligible. Motion,

in many instances, from gravity, from elasticity, from electricity,

begins in matter, without any known voluntary agent: and to suppose

always, in these cases, an unknown voluntary agent, is mere hypothesis;

and hypothesis attended with no advantages. The beginning of motion in

matter itself is as conceivable a priori as its communication from mind

and intelligence.

Besides, why may not motion have been propagated by impulse through all

eternity, and the same stock of it, or nearly the same, be still upheld

in the universe? As much is lost by the composition of motion, as much is

gained by its resolution. And whatever the causes are, the fact is

certain, that matter is, and always has been, in continual agitation, as

far as human experience or tradition reaches. There is not probably, at

present, in the whole universe, one particle of matter at absolute rest.

And this very consideration too, continued PHILO, which we have stumbled

on in the course of the argument, suggests a new hypothesis of cosmogony,

that is not absolutely absurd and improbable. Is there a system, an

order, an economy of things, by which matter can preserve that perpetual

agitation which seems essential to it, and yet maintain a constancy in

the forms which it produces? There certainly is such an economy; for this

is actually the case with the present world. The continual motion of

matter, therefore, in less than infinite transpositions, must produce

this economy or order; and by its very nature, that order, when once

established, supports itself, for many ages, if not to eternity. But

wherever matter is so poised, arranged, and adjusted, as to continue in

perpetual motion, and yet preserve a constancy in the forms, its

situation must, of necessity, have all the same appearance of art and

contrivance which we observe at present. All the parts of each form must

have a relation to each other, and to the whole; and the whole itself

must have a relation to the other parts of the universe; to the element

in which the form subsists; to the materials with which it repairs its

waste and decay; and to every other form which is hostile or friendly. A

defect in any of these particulars destroys the form; and the matter of

which it is composed is again set loose, and is thrown into irregular

motions and fermentations, till it unite itself to some other regular

form. If no such form be prepared to receive it, and if there be a great

quantity of this corrupted matter in the universe, the universe itself is

entirely disordered; whether it be the feeble embryo of a world in its

first beginnings that is thus destroyed, or the rotten carcass of one

languishing in old age and infirmity. In either case, a chaos ensues;

till finite, though innumerable revolutions produce at last some forms,

whose parts and organs are so adjusted as to support the forms amidst a

continued succession of matter.

Suppose (for we shall endeavour to vary the expression), that matter were

thrown into any position, by a blind, unguided force; it is evident that

this first position must, in all probability, be the most confused and

most disorderly imaginable, without any resemblance to those works of

human contrivance, which, along with a symmetry of parts, discover an

adjustment of means to ends, and a tendency to self-preservation. If the

actuating force cease after this operation, matter must remain for ever

in disorder, and continue an immense chaos, without any proportion or

activity. But suppose that the actuating force, whatever it be, still

continues in matter, this first position will immediately give place to a

second, which will likewise in all probability be as disorderly as the

first, and so on through many successions of changes and revolutions. No

particular order or position ever continues a moment unaltered. The

original force, still remaining in activity, gives a perpetual

restlessness to matter. Every possible situation is produced, and

instantly destroyed. If a glimpse or dawn of order appears for a moment,

it is instantly hurried away, and confounded, by that never-ceasing force

which actuates every part of matter.

Thus the universe goes on for many ages in a continued succession of

chaos and disorder. But is it not possible that it may settle at last, so

as not to lose its motion and active force (for that we have supposed

inherent in it), yet so as to preserve an uniformity of appearance,

amidst the continual motion and fluctuation of its parts? This we find to

be the case with the universe at present. Every individual is perpetually

changing, and every part of every individual; and yet the whole remains,

in appearance, the same. May we not hope for such a position, or rather

be assured of it, from the eternal revolutions of unguided matter; and

may not this account for all the appearing wisdom and contrivance which

is in the universe? Let us contemplate the subject a little, and we shall

find, that this adjustment, if attained by matter of a seeming stability

in the forms, with a real and perpetual revolution or motion of parts,

affords a plausible, if not a true solution of the difficulty.

It is in vain, therefore, to insist upon the uses of the parts in animals

or vegetables, and their curious adjustment to each other. I would fain

know, how an animal could subsist, unless its parts were so adjusted? Do

we not find, that it immediately perishes whenever this adjustment

ceases, and that its matter corrupting tries some new form? It happens

indeed, that the parts of the world are so well adjusted, that some

regular form immediately lays claim to this corrupted matter: and if it

were not so, could the world subsist? Must it not dissolve as well as the

animal, and pass through new positions and situations, till in great, but

finite succession, it falls at last into the present or some such order?

It is well, replied CLEANTHES, you told us, that this hypothesis was

suggested on a sudden, in the course of the argument. Had you had leisure

to examine it, you would soon have perceived the insuperable objections

to which it is exposed. No form, you say, can subsist, unless it possess

those powers and organs requisite for its subsistence: some new order or

economy must be tried, and so on, without intermission; till at last some

order, which can support and maintain itself, is fallen upon. But

according to this hypothesis, whence arise the many conveniences and

advantages which men and all animals possess? Two eyes, two ears, are not

absolutely necessary for the subsistence of the species. Human race might

have been propagated and preserved, without horses, dogs, cows, sheep,

and those innumerable fruits and products which serve to our satisfaction

and enjoyment. If no camels had been created for the use of man in the

sandy deserts of AFRICA and ARABIA, would the world have been dissolved?

If no lodestone had been framed to give that wonderful and useful

direction to the needle, would human society and the human kind have been

immediately extinguished? Though the maxims of Nature be in general very

frugal, yet instances of this kind are far from being rare; and any one

of them is a sufficient proof of design, and of a benevolent design,

which gave rise to the order and arrangement of the universe.

At least, you may safely infer, said PHILO, that the foregoing hypothesis

is so far incomplete and imperfect, which I shall not scruple to allow.

But can we ever reasonably expect greater success in any attempts of this

nature? Or can we ever hope to erect a system of cosmogony, that will be

liable to no exceptions, and will contain no circumstance repugnant to

our limited and imperfect experience of the analogy of Nature? Your

theory itself cannot surely pretend to any such advantage, even though

you have run into Anthropomorphism, the better to preserve a conformity

to common experience. Let us once more put it to trial. In all instances

which we have ever seen, ideas are copied from real objects, and are

ectypal, not archetypal, to express myself in learned terms: You reverse

this order, and give thought the precedence. In all instances which we

have ever seen, thought has no influence upon matter, except where that

matter is so conjoined with it as to have an equal reciprocal influence

upon it. No animal can move immediately any thing but the members of its

own body; and indeed, the equality of action and reaction seems to be an

universal law of nature: But your theory implies a contradiction to this

experience. These instances, with many more, which it were easy to

collect, (particularly the supposition of a mind or system of thought

that is eternal, or, in other words, an animal ingenerable and immortal);

these instances, I say, may teach all of us sobriety in condemning each

other, and let us see, that as no system of this kind ought ever to be

received from a slight analogy, so neither ought any to be rejected on

account of a small incongruity. For that is an inconvenience from which

we can justly pronounce no one to be exempted.

All religious systems, it is confessed, are subject to great and

insuperable difficulties. Each disputant triumphs in his turn; while he

carries on an offensive war, and exposes the absurdities, barbarities,

and pernicious tenets of his antagonist. But all of them, on the whole,

prepare a complete triumph for the Sceptic; who tells them, that no

system ought ever to be embraced with regard to such subjects: For this

plain reason, that no absurdity ought ever to be assented to with regard

to any subject. A total suspense of judgement is here our only reasonable

resource. And if every attack, as is commonly observed, and no defence,

among Theologians, is successful; how complete must be his victory, who

remains always, with all mankind, on the offensive, and has himself no

fixed station or abiding city, which he is ever, on any occasion, obliged

to defend?

Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion · 第 8 / 12 章