I scruple not to allow, said CLEANTHES, that I have been apt to suspect
the frequent repetition of the word infinite, which we meet with in all
theological writers, to savour more of panegyric than of philosophy; and
that any purposes of reasoning, and even of religion, would be better
served, were we to rest contented with more accurate and more moderate
expressions. The terms, admirable, excellent, superlatively great, wise,
and holy; these sufficiently fill the imaginations of men; and any thing
beyond, besides that it leads into absurdities, has no influence on the
affections or sentiments. Thus, in the present subject, if we abandon all
human analogy, as seems your intention, DEMEA, I am afraid we abandon all
religion, and retain no conception of the great object of our adoration.
If we preserve human analogy, we must for ever find it impossible to
reconcile any mixture of evil in the universe with infinite attributes;
much less can we ever prove the latter from the former. But supposing the
Author of Nature to be finitely perfect, though far exceeding mankind, a
satisfactory account may then be given of natural and moral evil, and
every untoward phenomenon be explained and adjusted. A less evil may then
be chosen, in order to avoid a greater; inconveniences be submitted to,
in order to reach a desirable end; and in a word, benevolence, regulated
by wisdom, and limited by necessity, may produce just such a world as the
present. You, PHILO, who are so prompt at starting views, and
reflections, and analogies, I would gladly hear, at length, without
interruption, your opinion of this new theory; and if it deserve our
attention, we may afterwards, at more leisure, reduce it into form.
My sentiments, replied PHILO, are not worth being made a mystery of; and
therefore, without any ceremony, I shall deliver what occurs to me with
regard to the present subject. It must, I think, be allowed, that if a
very limited intelligence, whom we shall suppose utterly unacquainted
with the universe, were assured, that it were the production of a very
good, wise, and powerful Being, however finite, he would, from his
conjectures, form beforehand a different notion of it from what we find
it to be by experience; nor would he ever imagine, merely from these
attributes of the cause, of which he is informed, that the effect could
be so full of vice and misery and disorder, as it appears in this life.
Supposing now, that this person were brought into the world, still
assured that it was the workmanship of such a sublime and benevolent
Being; he might, perhaps, be surprised at the disappointment; but would
never retract his former belief, if founded on any very solid argument;
since such a limited intelligence must be sensible of his own blindness
and ignorance, and must allow, that there may be many solutions of those
phenomena, which will for ever escape his comprehension. But supposing,
which is the real case with regard to man, that this creature is not
antecedently convinced of a supreme intelligence, benevolent, and
powerful, but is left to gather such a belief from the appearances of
things; this entirely alters the case, nor will he ever find any reason
for such a conclusion. He may be fully convinced of the narrow limits of
his understanding; but this will not help him in forming an inference
concerning the goodness of superior powers, since he must form that
inference from what he knows, not from what he is ignorant of. The more
you exaggerate his weakness and ignorance, the more diffident you render
him, and give him the greater suspicion that such subjects are beyond the
reach of his faculties. You are obliged, therefore, to reason with him
merely from the known phenomena, and to drop every arbitrary supposition
or conjecture.
Did I show you a house or palace, where there was not one apartment
convenient or agreeable; where the windows, doors, fires, passages,
stairs, and the whole economy of the building, were the source of noise,
confusion, fatigue, darkness, and the extremes of heat and cold; you
would certainly blame the contrivance, without any further examination.
The architect would in vain display his subtlety, and prove to you, that
if this door or that window were altered, greater ills would ensue. What
he says may be strictly true: The alteration of one particular, while the
other parts of the building remain, may only augment the inconveniences.
But still you would assert in general, that, if the architect had had
skill and good intentions, he might have formed such a plan of the whole,
and might have adjusted the parts in such a manner, as would have
remedied all or most of these inconveniences. His ignorance, or even your
own ignorance of such a plan, will never convince you of the
impossibility of it. If you find any inconveniences and deformities in
the building, you will always, without entering into any detail, condemn
the architect.
In short, I repeat the question: Is the world, considered in general, and
as it appears to us in this life, different from what a man, or such a
limited being, would, beforehand, expect from a very powerful, wise, and
benevolent Deity? It must be strange prejudice to assert the contrary.
And from thence I conclude, that however consistent the world may be,
allowing certain suppositions and conjectures, with the idea of such a
Deity, it can never afford us an inference concerning his existence. The
consistence is not absolutely denied, only the inference. Conjectures,
especially where infinity is excluded from the Divine attributes, may
perhaps be sufficient to prove a consistence, but can never be
foundations for any inference.
There seem to be four circumstances, on which depend all, or the greatest
part of the ills, that molest sensible creatures; and it is not
impossible but all these circumstances may be necessary and unavoidable.
We know so little beyond common life, or even of common life, that, with
regard to the economy of a universe, there is no conjecture, however
wild, which may not be just; nor any one, however plausible, which may
not be erroneous. All that belongs to human understanding, in this deep
ignorance and obscurity, is to be sceptical, or at least cautious, and
not to admit of any hypothesis whatever, much less of any which is
supported by no appearance of probability. Now, this I assert to be the
case with regard to all the causes of evil, and the circumstances on
which it depends. None of them appear to human reason in the least degree
necessary or unavoidable; nor can we suppose them such, without the
utmost license of imagination.
The first circumstance which introduces evil, is that contrivance or
economy of the animal creation, by which pains, as well as pleasures, are
employed to excite all creatures to action, and make them vigilant in the
great work of self-preservation. Now pleasure alone, in its various
degrees, seems to human understanding sufficient for this purpose. All
animals might be constantly in a state of enjoyment: but when urged by
any of the necessities of nature, such as thirst, hunger, weariness;
instead of pain, they might feel a diminution of pleasure, by which they
might be prompted to seek that object which is necessary to their
subsistence. Men pursue pleasure as eagerly as they avoid pain; at least
they might have been so constituted. It seems, therefore, plainly
possible to carry on the business of life without any pain. Why then is
any animal ever rendered susceptible of such a sensation? If animals can
be free from it an hour, they might enjoy a perpetual exemption from it;
and it required as particular a contrivance of their organs to produce
that feeling, as to endow them with sight, hearing, or any of the senses.
Shall we conjecture, that such a contrivance was necessary, without any
appearance of reason? and shall we build on that conjecture as on the
most certain truth?
But a capacity of pain would not alone produce pain, were it not for the
second circumstance, viz. the conducting of the world by general laws;
and this seems nowise necessary to a very perfect Being. It is true, if
everything were conducted by particular volitions, the course of nature
would be perpetually broken, and no man could employ his reason in the
conduct of life. But might not other particular volitions remedy this
inconvenience? In short, might not the Deity exterminate all ill,
wherever it were to be found; and produce all good, without any
preparation, or long progress of causes and effects?
Besides, we must consider, that, according to the present economy of the
world, the course of nature, though supposed exactly regular, yet to us
appears not so, and many events are uncertain, and many disappoint our
expectations. Health and sickness, calm and tempest, with an infinite
number of other accidents, whose causes are unknown and variable, have a
great influence both on the fortunes of particular persons and on the
prosperity of public societies; and indeed all human life, in a manner,
depends on such accidents. A being, therefore, who knows the secret
springs of the universe, might easily, by particular volitions, turn all
these accidents to the good of mankind, and render the whole world happy,
without discovering himself in any operation. A fleet, whose purposes
were salutary to society, might always meet with a fair wind. Good
princes enjoy sound health and long life. Persons born to power and
authority, be framed with good tempers and virtuous dispositions. A few
such events as these, regularly and wisely conducted, would change the
face of the world; and yet would no more seem to disturb the course of
nature, or confound human conduct, than the present economy of things,
where the causes are secret, and variable, and compounded. Some small
touches given to CALIGULA's brain in his infancy, might have converted
him into a TRAJAN. One wave, a little higher than the rest, by burying
CAESAR and his fortune in the bottom of the ocean, might have restored
liberty to a considerable part of mankind. There may, for aught we know,
be good reasons why Providence interposes not in this manner; but they
are unknown to us; and though the mere supposition, that such reasons
exist, may be sufficient to save the conclusion concerning the Divine
attributes, yet surely it can never be sufficient to establish that
conclusion.
If every thing in the universe be conducted by general laws, and if
animals be rendered susceptible of pain, it scarcely seems possible but
some ill must arise in the various shocks of matter, and the various
concurrence and opposition of general laws; but this ill would be very
rare, were it not for the third circumstance, which I proposed to
mention, viz. the great frugality with which all powers and faculties are
distributed to every particular being. So well adjusted are the organs
and capacities of all animals, and so well fitted to their preservation,
that, as far as history or tradition reaches, there appears not to be any
single species which has yet been extinguished in the universe. Every
animal has the requisite endowments; but these endowments are bestowed
with so scrupulous an economy, that any considerable diminution must
entirely destroy the creature. Wherever one power is increased, there is
a proportional abatement in the others. Animals which excel in swiftness
are commonly defective in force. Those which possess both are either
imperfect in some of their senses, or are oppressed with the most craving
wants. The human species, whose chief excellency is reason and sagacity,
is of all others the most necessitous, and the most deficient in bodily
advantages; without clothes, without arms, without food, without lodging,
without any convenience of life, except what they owe to their own skill
and industry. In short, nature seems to have formed an exact calculation
of the necessities of her creatures; and, like a rigid master, has
afforded them little more powers or endowments than what are strictly
sufficient to supply those necessities. An indulgent parent would have
bestowed a large stock, in order to guard against accidents, and secure
the happiness and welfare of the creature in the most unfortunate
concurrence of circumstances. Every course of life would not have been so
surrounded with precipices, that the least departure from the true path,
by mistake or necessity, must involve us in misery and ruin. Some
reserve, some fund, would have been provided to ensure happiness; nor
would the powers and the necessities have been adjusted with so rigid an
economy. The Author of Nature is inconceivably powerful: his force is
supposed great, if not altogether inexhaustible: nor is there any reason,
as far as we can judge, to make him observe this strict frugality in his
dealings with his creatures. It would have been better, were his power
extremely limited, to have created fewer animals, and to have endowed
these with more faculties for their happiness and preservation. A builder
is never esteemed prudent, who undertakes a plan beyond what his stock
will enable him to finish.
In order to cure most of the ills of human life, I require not that man
should have the wings of the eagle, the swiftness of the stag, the force
of the ox, the arms of the lion, the scales of the crocodile or
rhinoceros; much less do I demand the sagacity of an angel or cherubim. I
am contented to take an increase in one single power or faculty of his
soul. Let him be endowed with a greater propensity to industry and
labour; a more vigorous spring and activity of mind; a more constant bent
to business and application. Let the whole species possess naturally an
equal diligence with that which many individuals are able to attain by
habit and reflection; and the most beneficial consequences, without any
allay of ill, is the immediate and necessary result of this endowment.
Almost all the moral, as well as natural evils of human life, arise from
idleness; and were our species, by the original constitution of their
frame, exempt from this vice or infirmity, the perfect cultivation of
land, the improvement of arts and manufactures, the exact execution of
every office and duty, immediately follow; and men at once may fully
reach that state of society, which is so imperfectly attained by the best
regulated government. But as industry is a power, and the most valuable
of any, Nature seems determined, suitably to her usual maxims, to bestow
it on men with a very sparing hand; and rather to punish him severely for
his deficiency in it, than to reward him for his attainments. She has so
contrived his frame, that nothing but the most violent necessity can
oblige him to labour; and she employs all his other wants to overcome, at
least in part, the want of diligence, and to endow him with some share of
a faculty of which she has thought fit naturally to bereave him. Here our
demands may be allowed very humble, and therefore the more reasonable. If
we required the endowments of superior penetration and judgement, of a
more delicate taste of beauty, of a nicer sensibility to benevolence and
friendship; we might be told, that we impiously pretend to break the
order of Nature; that we want to exalt ourselves into a higher rank of
being; that the presents which we require, not being suitable to our
state and condition, would only be pernicious to us. But it is hard; I
dare to repeat it, it is hard, that being placed in a world so full of
wants and necessities, where almost every being and element is either our
foe or refuses its assistance ... we should also have our own temper to
struggle with, and should be deprived of that faculty which can alone
fence against these multiplied evils.
The fourth circumstance, whence arises the misery and ill of the
universe, is the inaccurate workmanship of all the springs and principles
of the great machine of nature. It must be acknowledged, that there are
few parts of the universe, which seem not to serve some purpose, and
whose removal would not produce a visible defect and disorder in the
whole. The parts hang all together; nor can one be touched without
affecting the rest, in a greater or less degree. But at the same time, it
must be observed, that none of these parts or principles, however useful,
are so accurately adjusted, as to keep precisely within those bounds in
which their utility consists; but they are, all of them, apt, on every
occasion, to run into the one extreme or the other. One would imagine,
that this grand production had not received the last hand of the maker;
so little finished is every part, and so coarse are the strokes with
which it is executed. Thus, the winds are requisite to convey the vapours
along the surface of the globe, and to assist men in navigation: but how
oft, rising up to tempests and hurricanes, do they become pernicious?
Rains are necessary to nourish all the plants and animals of the earth:
but how often are they defective? how often excessive? Heat is requisite
to all life and vegetation; but is not always found in the due
proportion. On the mixture and secretion of the humours and juices of the
body depend the health and prosperity of the animal: but the parts
perform not regularly their proper function. What more useful than all
the passions of the mind, ambition, vanity, love, anger? But how oft do
they break their bounds, and cause the greatest convulsions in society?
There is nothing so advantageous in the universe, but what frequently
becomes pernicious, by its excess or defect; nor has Nature guarded, with
the requisite accuracy, against all disorder or confusion. The
irregularity is never perhaps so great as to destroy any species; but is
often sufficient to involve the individuals in ruin and misery.
On the concurrence, then, of these four circumstances, does all or the
greatest part of natural evil depend. Were all living creatures incapable
of pain, or were the world administered by particular volitions, evil
never could have found access into the universe: and were animals endowed
with a large stock of powers and faculties, beyond what strict necessity
requires; or were the several springs and principles of the universe so
accurately framed as to preserve always the just temperament and medium;
there must have been very little ill in comparison of what we feel at
present. What then shall we pronounce on this occasion? Shall we say that
these circumstances are not necessary, and that they might easily have
been altered in the contrivance of the universe? This decision seems too
presumptuous for creatures so blind and ignorant. Let us be more modest
in our conclusions. Let us allow, that, if the goodness of the Deity (I
mean a goodness like the human) could be established on any tolerable
reasons a priori, these phenomena, however untoward, would not be
sufficient to subvert that principle; but might easily, in some unknown
manner, be reconcilable to it. But let us still assert, that as this
goodness is not antecedently established, but must be inferred from the
phenomena, there can be no grounds for such an inference, while there are
so many ills in the universe, and while these ills might so easily have
been remedied, as far as human understanding can be allowed to judge on
such a subject. I am Sceptic enough to allow, that the bad appearances,
notwithstanding all my reasonings, may be compatible with such attributes
as you suppose; but surely they can never prove these attributes. Such a
conclusion cannot result from Scepticism, but must arise from the
phenomena, and from our confidence in the reasonings which we deduce from
these phenomena.
Look round this universe. What an immense profusion of beings, animated
and organised, sensible and active! You admire this prodigious variety
and fecundity. But inspect a little more narrowly these living
existences, the only beings worth regarding. How hostile and destructive
to each other! How insufficient all of them for their own happiness! How
contemptible or odious to the spectator! The whole presents nothing but
the idea of a blind Nature, impregnated by a great vivifying principle,
and pouring forth from her lap, without discernment or parental care, her
maimed and abortive children!
Here the MANICHAEAN system occurs as a proper hypothesis to solve the
difficulty: and no doubt, in some respects, it is very specious, and has
more probability than the common hypothesis, by giving a plausible
account of the strange mixture of good and ill which appears in life. But
if we consider, on the other hand, the perfect uniformity and agreement
of the parts of the universe, we shall not discover in it any marks of
the combat of a malevolent with a benevolent being. There is indeed an
opposition of pains and pleasures in the feelings of sensible creatures:
but are not all the operations of Nature carried on by an opposition of
principles, of hot and cold, moist and dry, light and heavy? The true
conclusion is, that the original Source of all things is entirely
indifferent to all these principles; and has no more regard to good above
ill, than to heat above cold, or to drought above moisture, or to light
above heavy.
There may four hypotheses be framed concerning the first causes of the
universe: that they are endowed with perfect goodness; that they have
perfect malice; that they are opposite, and have both goodness and
malice; that they have neither goodness nor malice. Mixed phenomena can
never prove the two former unmixed principles; and the uniformity and
steadiness of general laws seem to oppose the third. The fourth,
therefore, seems by far the most probable.
What I have said concerning natural evil will apply to moral, with little
or no variation; and we have no more reason to infer, that the rectitude
of the Supreme Being resembles human rectitude, than that his benevolence
resembles the human. Nay, it will be thought, that we have still greater
cause to exclude from him moral sentiments, such as we feel them; since
moral evil, in the opinion of many, is much more predominant above moral
good than natural evil above natural good.
But even though this should not be allowed, and though the virtue which
is in mankind should be acknowledged much superior to the vice, yet so
long as there is any vice at all in the universe, it will very much
puzzle you Anthropomorphites, how to account for it. You must assign a
cause for it, without having recourse to the first cause. But as every
effect must have a cause, and that cause another, you must either carry
on the progression in infinitum, or rest on that original principle, who
is the ultimate cause of all things...
Hold! hold! cried DEMEA: Whither does your imagination hurry you? I
joined in alliance with you, in order to prove the incomprehensible
nature of the Divine Being, and refute the principles of CLEANTHES, who
would measure every thing by human rule and standard. But I now find you
running into all the topics of the greatest libertines and infidels, and
betraying that holy cause which you seemingly espoused. Are you secretly,
then, a more dangerous enemy than CLEANTHES himself?
And are you so late in perceiving it? replied CLEANTHES. Believe me,
DEMEA, your friend PHILO, from the beginning, has been amusing himself at
both our expense; and it must be confessed, that the injudicious
reasoning of our vulgar theology has given him but too just a handle of
ridicule. The total infirmity of human reason, the absolute
incomprehensibility of the Divine Nature, the great and universal misery,
and still greater wickedness of men; these are strange topics, surely, to
be so fondly cherished by orthodox divines and doctors. In ages of
stupidity and ignorance, indeed, these principles may safely be espoused;
and perhaps no views of things are more proper to promote superstition,
than such as encourage the blind amazement, the diffidence, and
melancholy of mankind. But at present...
Blame not so much, interposed PHILO, the ignorance of these reverend
gentlemen. They know how to change their style with the times. Formerly
it was a most popular theological topic to maintain, that human life was
vanity and misery, and to exaggerate all the ills and pains which are
incident to men. But of late years, divines, we find, begin to retract
this position; and maintain, though still with some hesitation, that
there are more goods than evils, more pleasures than pains, even in this
life. When religion stood entirely upon temper and education, it was
thought proper to encourage melancholy; as indeed mankind never have
recourse to superior powers so readily as in that disposition. But as men
have now learned to form principles, and to draw consequences, it is
necessary to change the batteries, and to make use of such arguments as
will endure at least some scrutiny and examination. This variation is the
same (and from the same causes) with that which I formerly remarked with
regard to Scepticism.
Thus PHILO continued to the last his spirit of opposition, and his censure
of established opinions. But I could observe that DEMEA did not at all
relish the latter part of the discourse; and he took occasion soon after,
on some pretence or other, to leave the company.