he has, nevertheless, the folly to think himself the favourite of his God,
the object of all his cares, the sole end of all his works. He imagines,
that the whole universe is made for him; he arrogantly calls himself the
_king of nature_, and values himself far above other animals. Mortal! upon
what canst thou found thy haughty pretensions? It is, sayest thou, upon
thy soul, upon thy reason, upon the sublime faculties, which enable thee
to exercise an absolute empire over the beings, which surround thee. But,
weak sovereign of the world; art thou sure, one moment, of the continuance
of thy reign? Do not the smallest atoms of matter, which thou despisest,
suffice to tear thee from thy throne, and deprive thee of life? Finally,
does not the king of animals at last become the food of worms? Thou
speakest of thy soul! But dost thou know what a soul is? Dost thou not
see, that this soul is only the assemblage of thy organs, from which
results life? Wouldst thou then refuse a soul to other animals, who live,
think, judge, and compare, like thee; who seek pleasure, and avoid pain,
like thee; and who often have organs, which serve them better than thine?
Thou boastest of thy intellectual faculties; but do these faculties, of
which thou art so proud, make thee happier than other animals? Dost
thou often make use of that reason, in which thou gloriest, and to
which religion commands thee not to listen? Are those brutes, which thou
disdainest, because they are less strong or less cunning than thou art,
subject to mental pains, to a thousand frivolous passions, to a thousand
imaginary wants, to which thou art a continual prey? Are they, like thee,
tormented by the past, alarmed at the future? Confined solely to the
present, does not what you call their _instinct_, and what I call their
_intelligence_, suffice to preserve and defend them, and to supply them
with all they want? Does not this instinct, of which thou speakest with
contempt, often serve them better than thy wonderful faculties? Is not
their peaceful ignorance more advantageous to them, than those extravagant
meditations and worthless researches, which render thee unhappy, and
for which thy zeal urges thee even to massacre the beings of thy noble
species? Finally, have these beasts, like so many mortals, a troubled
imagination, which makes them fear, not only death, but likewise eternal
torments?
Augustus, hearing that Herod, king of Judea, had put his sons to death,
exclaimed: _It is much better to be Herod's hog, than his son_. As much
may be said of man. This dear child of Providence runs far greater risks
than all other animals; having suffered much in this world, does he not
imagine, that he is in danger of suffering eternally in another?
95.
Where is the precise line of distinction between man and the animals whom
he calls brutes? In what does he differ essentially from beasts? It is,
we are told, by his intelligence, by the faculties of his mind, and by his
reason, that man appears superior to all other animals, who, in all their
actions, move only by physical impulses, in which reason has no share.
But finally, brutes, having fewer wants than man, easily do without his
intellectual faculties, which would be perfectly useless in their mode of
existence. Their instinct is sufficient; while all the faculties of man
scarcely suffice to render his existence supportable, and to satisfy the
wants, which his imagination and his prejudices multiply to his torment.
Brutes are not influenced by the same objects, as man; they have not the
same wants, desires, nor fancies; and they very soon arrive to maturity,
while the mind of man seldom attains to the full enjoyment and free
exercise of its faculties and to such a use of them, as is conducive to
his happiness.
96.
We are assured, that the human soul is a simple substance. It should
then be the same in every individual, each having the same intellectual
faculties; yet this is not the case. Men differ as much in the qualities
of the mind, as in the features of the face. There are human beings
as different from one another, as man is from a horse or a dog. What
conformity or resemblance do we find between some men? What an infinite
distance is there between the genius of a Locke or a Newton, and that of a
peasant, Hottentot, or Laplander?
Man differs from other animals only in his organization, which enables
him to produce effects, of which animals are not capable. The variety,
observable in the organs of individuals of the human species suffices to
explain the differences in what is called their intellectual faculties.
More or less delicacy in these organs, warmth in the blood, mobility
in the fluids, flexibility or stiffness in the fibres and nerves, must
necessarily produce the infinite diversity, which we observe in the minds
of men. It is by exercise, habit and education, that the mind is
unfolded and becomes superior to that of others. Man, without culture and
experience, is as void of reason and industry, as the brute. A stupid man
is one, whose organs move with difficulty, whose brain does not easily
vibrate, whose blood circulates slowly. A man of genius is he, whose
organs are flexible, whose sensations are quick, whose brain vibrates
with celerity. A learned man is he, whose organs and brain have been long
exercised upon objects to which he is devoted.
Without culture, experience, or reason, is not man more contemptible and
worthy of hatred, than the vilest insects or most ferocious beasts? Is
there in nature a more detestable being, than a Tiberius, a Nero, or a
Caligula? Have those destroyers of the human race, known by the name of
conquerors, more estimable souls than bears, lions, or panthers? Are there
animals in the world more detestable than tyrants?
97.
The superiority which man so gratuitously arrogates to himself over other
animals, soon vanishes in the light of reason, when we reflect on human
extravagances. How many animals shew more mildness, reflection, and
reason, than the animal, who calls himself reasonable above all others?
Are there among men, so often enslaved and oppressed, societies as
well constituted as those of the ants, bees, or beavers? Do we ever
see ferocious beasts of the same species mangle and destroy one another
without profit? Do we ever see religious wars among them? The cruelty
of beasts towards other species arises from hunger, the necessity of
nourishment; the cruelty of man towards man arises only from the vanity of
his masters and the folly of his impertinent prejudices. Speculative men,
who endeavour to make us believe, that all in the universe was made for
man, are much embarrassed, when we ask, how so many hurtful animals can
contribute to the happiness of man? What known advantage results to
the friend of the gods, from being bitten by a viper, stung by a gnat,
devoured by vermin, torn in pieces by a tiger, etc.? Would not all these
animals reason as justly as our theologians, should they pretend that man
was made for them?
98.
AN EASTERN TALE.
At some distance from Bagdad, a hermit, renowned for his sanctity, passed
his days in an agreeable solitude. The neighbouring inhabitants, to obtain
an interest in his prayers, daily flocked to his hermitage, to carry him
provisions and presents. The holy man, without ceasing, gave thanks to God
for the blessings, with which providence loaded him. "O Allah!" said he,
"how ineffable is thy love to thy servants. What have I done to merit the
favours, that I receive from thy bounty? O Monarch of the skies! O Father
of nature! what praises could worthily celebrate thy munificence, and thy
paternal care! O Allah! how great is thy goodness to the children of men!"
Penetrated with gratitude, the hermit made a vow to undertake, for the
seventh time, a pilgrimage to Mecca. The war which then raged between the
Persians and Turks, could not induce him to defer his pious enterprise.
Full of confidence in God, he sets out under the inviolable safeguard of
a religious habit. He passes through the hostile troops without any
obstacle; far from being molested, he receives, at every step, marks of
veneration from the soldiers of the two parties. At length, borne down
with fatigue, he is obliged to seek refuge against the rays of a scorching
sun; he rests under the cool shade of a group of palm-trees. In this
solitary place, the man of God finds not only an enchanting retreat, but
a delicious repast. He has only to put forth his hand to gather dates
and other pleasant fruits; a brook affords him the means of quenching his
thirst. A green turf invites him to sleep; upon waking he performs the
sacred ablution, and exclaims in a transport of joy: "O Allah! how great
is thy goodness to the children of men!" After this perfect refreshment,
the saint, full of strength and gaiety, pursues his way; it leads him
across a smiling country, which presents to his eyes flowery hillocks,
enamelled meadows, and trees loaded with fruit. Affected by this sight, he
ceases not to adore the rich and liberal hand of providence, which appears
every where providing for the happiness of the human race. Going a little
farther, the mountains are pretty difficult to pass; but having once
arrived at the summit, a hideous spectacle suddenly appears to his view.
His soul is filled with horror. He discovers a vast plain laid waste
with fire and sword; he beholds it covered with hundreds of carcases,
the deplorable remains of a bloody battle, lately fought upon this field.
Eagles, vultures, ravens and wolves were greedily devouring the dead
bodies with which the ground was covered. This sight plunges our pilgrim
into a gloomy meditation. Heaven, by special favour, had enabled him to
understand the language of beasts. He heard a wolf, gorged with human
flesh, cry out in the excess of his joy: "O Allah! how great is thy
goodness to the children of wolves. Thy provident wisdom takes care to
craze the minds of these detestable men, who are so dangerous to our
species. By an effect of thy Providence, which watches over thy creatures,
these destroyers cut one another's throats, and furnish us with sumptuous
meals. O Allah! how great is thy goodness to the children of wolves!"
99.
A heated imagination sees in the universe only the blessings of heaven;
a calmer mind finds in it both good and evil. "I exist," say you; but is
this existence always a good? "Behold," you say, "that sun, which lights;
this earth, which for you is covered with crops and verdure; these
flowers, which bloom to regale your senses; these trees, which bend under
the weight of delicious fruits; these pure waters, which run only to
quench your thirst; those seas, which embrace the universe to facilitate
your commerce; these animals, which a foreseeing nature provides for your
use." Yes; I see all these things, and I enjoy them. But in many climates,
this beautiful sun is almost always hidden; in others, its excessive heat
torments, creates storms, produces frightful diseases, and parches the
fields; the pastures are without verdure, the trees without fruit, the
crops are scorched, the springs are dried up; I can only with difficulty
subsist, and now complain of the cruelties of nature, which to you
always appears so beneficent. If these seas bring me spices, and useless
commodities, do they not destroy numberless mortals, who are foolish
enough to seek them? The vanity of man persuades him, that he is the
sole center of the universe; he creates for himself a world and a God;
he thinks himself of sufficient consequence to derange nature at his
pleasure. But, concerning other animals, he reasons like an atheist. Does
he not imagine, that the individuals different from his own are automatons
unworthy of the blessings of universal providence, and that brutes cannot
be objects of his justice or goodness? Mortals regard the happy or unhappy
events, health or sickness, life or death, plenty or want, as rewards or
punishments for the right use or abuse of the liberty, with which they
erroneously imagine themselves endowed. Do they reason in the same manner
concerning the brutes? No. Although they see them, under a just God, enjoy
and suffer, equally subject to health and sickness, live and die, like
themselves, it never occurs to them to ask by what crime, these beasts
could have incurred the displeasure of their Creator? Have not men,
blinded by their religious prejudices, in order to free themselves from
embarrassment, carried their folly so far as to pretend that beasts have
no feeling?
Will men never renounce their foolish pretensions? Will they never
acknowledge that nature is not made for them? Will they never see that
nature has placed equality among all beings she has produced? Will they
never perceive that all organized beings are equally made to be born and
die, enjoy and suffer? Finally, far from having any cause to be puffed
up with their mental faculties, are they not forced to grant, that these
faculties often make them more unhappy than beasts, in which we find
neither opinions, prejudices, vanities, nor follies, which every moment
decide the welfare of man?
100.
The superiority which men arrogate over other animals, is chiefly founded
upon their opinion, that they have the exclusive possession of an immortal
soul. But ask them what this soul is, and they are puzzled. They will say,
it is an unknown substance--a secret power distinct from their bodies--a
spirit, of which they have no idea. Ask them how this spirit, which they
suppose to be like their God wholly void of extension, could combine
itself with their material bodies, and they will tell you, they know
nothing about it; that it is to them a mystery; that this combination is
an effect of the omnipotence of God. These are the ideas that men form of
the hidden, or rather imaginary substance, which they consider as the main
spring of all their actions!
If the soul is a substance essentially different from the body, and
can have no relation to it, their union would be, not a mystery, but an
impossibility. Besides, this soul being of a nature different from the
body, must necessarily act in a different manner; yet we see that this
pretended soul is sensible of the motions experienced by the body, and
that these two substances, essentially different, always acts in concert.
You will say that this harmony is also a mystery. But I will tell you,
that I see not my soul, that I know and am sensible of my body only, that
it is this body which feels, thinks, judges, suffers, and enjoys; and
that all these faculties are necessary results of its own mechanism, or
organization.
101.
Although it is impossible for men to form the least idea of the soul, or
the pretended spirit, which animates them; yet they persuade themselves
that this unknown soul is exempt from death. Every thing proves to them,
that they feel, that they think, that they acquire ideas, that they enjoy
and suffer, only by means of the senses, or material organs of the body.
Admitting even the existence of this soul, they cannot help acknowledging,
that it depends entirely upon the body, and undergoes, all its
vicissitudes; and yet it is imagined, that this soul has nothing, in
its nature, similar to the body; that it can act and feel without the
assistance of the body; in a word, that this soul, freed from the body,
and disengaged from its senses, can live, enjoy, suffer, experience
happiness, or feel excruciating torments. Upon such a tissue of
absurdities is built the marvellous opinion of the _immortality of the
soul_. If I ask, what are the motives for believing the soul immortal,
they immediately answer, that it is because man naturally desires to be
immortal: but, because you desire a thing ardently, can you infer that
your desire will be fulfilled? By what strange logic can we dare affirm,
that a thing cannot fail to happen, because we ardently desire it? Are
desires, begotten by the imagination, the measure of reality? The impious,
you say, deprived of the flattering hope of another life, wish to be
annihilated. Very well: may they not then as justly conclude, from _their_
desire, that they shall be annihilated, as you may conclude from _your_
desire, that you shall exist for ever.
102.
Man dies, and the human body after death is no longer anything but a mass
incapable of producing those motions, of which the sum total constituted
life. We see, that it has no longer circulation, respiration, digestion,
speech, or thought. It is pretended, that the soul is then separated from
the body; but to say, that this soul, with which we are unacquainted, is
the principle of life, is to say nothing, unless that an unknown power is
the hidden principle of imperceptible movements. Nothing is more natural
and simple, than to believe, that the dead man no longer lives: nothing
is more extravagant, than to believe, that the dead man is still alive. We
laugh at the simplicity of some nations, whose custom is to bury provision
with the dead, under an idea that it will be useful and necessary to them
in the other life. Is it then more ridiculous or absurd to suppose, that
men will eat after death, than to imagine, that they will think, that they
will be actuated by agreeable or disagreeable ideas, that they will enjoy
or suffer, and that they will experience repentance or delight, after the
organs, adapted to produce sensations or ideas, are once dissolved. To say
that the souls of men will be happy or unhappy after death, is in other
words to say, that men will see without eyes, hear without ears, taste
without palates, smell without noses, and touch without hands. And
persons, who consider themselves very reasonable, adopt these ideas!
103.
The dogma of the immortality of the soul supposes the soul to be a simple
substance; in a word, a spirit. But I ask again, what is a spirit? "It
is," say you, "a substance void of extension, incorruptible, having
nothing common with matter." If so, how is your soul born, and how does it
grow, how does it strengthen or weaken itself, how does it get disordered
and grow old, in the same progression as your body?
To all these questions you answer, that these are mysteries. If so, you
cannot understand them. If you cannot understand them, why do you decide
about a thing, of which you are unable to form the least idea? To believe
or affirm any thing, it is necessary, at least, to know in what it
consists. To believe in the existence of your immaterial soul, is to
say, that you are persuaded of the existence of a thing, of which it is
impossible for you to form any true notion; it is to believe in words
without meaning. To affirm that the thing is as you say, is the height of
folly or vanity.
104.
Are not theologians strange reasoners? Whenever they cannot divine the
_natural_ causes of things, they invent what they call _supernatural_;
such as spirits, occult causes, inexplicable agents, or rather _words_,
much more obscure than the _things_ they endeavour to explain. Let us
remain in nature, when we wish to account for the phenomena of nature; let
us be content to remain ignorant of causes too delicate for our organs;
and let us be persuaded, that, by going beyond nature, we shall never
solve the problems which nature presents.
Even upon the hypothesis of theology, (that is, supposing an all-powerful
mover of matter,) by what right would theologians deny, that their God
has power to give this matter the faculty of thought? Was it then more
difficult for him to create combinations of matter, from which thought
might result, than spirits who could think? At least, by supposing matter,
which thinks, we should have some notions of the subject of thought, or of
what thinks in us; whereas, by attributing thought to an immaterial being,
it is impossible to form the least idea of it.
105.
It is objected against us, that materialism makes man a mere machine,
which is said to be very dishonourable. But, will it be much more
honourable for man, if we should say, that he acts by the secret impulses
of a spirit, or by a certain _I know not what_, that animates him in a
manner totally inexplicable.
It is easy to perceive, that the supposed superiority of _spirit_ over
matter, or of the soul over the body, has no other foundation than men's
ignorance of this soul, while they are more familiarized with _matter_,
with which they imagine they are acquainted, and of which they think they
can discern the origin. But the most simple movements of our bodies are to
every man, who studies them, as inexplicable as thought.
106.
The high value, which so many people set upon spiritual substance, has no
other motive than their absolute inability to define it intelligibly. The
contempt shewn for _matter_ by our metaphysicians, arises only from the
circumstance, that familiarity begets contempt. When they tell us, that
_the soul is more excellent and noble than the body_, they say what they
know not.
107.
The dogma of another life is incessantly extolled, as useful. It
is maintained, that even though it should be only a fiction, it is
advantageous, because it deceives men, and conducts them to virtue. But
is it true, that this dogma makes men wiser and more virtuous? Are the
nations, who believe this fiction, remarkable for purity of morals? Has
not the visible world ever the advantage over the invisible? If those, who
are trusted with the instruction and government of men, had knowledge and
virtue themselves, they would govern them much better by realities, than
by fictions. But crafty, ambitious and corrupt legislators, have every
where found it better to amuse with fables, than to teach them truths,
to unfold their reason, to excite them to virtue by sensible and real
motives, in fine, to govern them in a rational manner. Priests undoubtedly
had reasons for making the soul immaterial; they wanted souls to people
the imaginary regions, which they have discovered in the other life.
Material souls would, like all bodies, have been subject to dissolution.
Now, if men should believe, that all must perish with the body, the
geographers of the other world would evidently lose the right of guiding
men's souls towards that unknown abode; they would reap no profits from
the hope with which they feed them, and the terrors with which they
oppress them. If futurity is of no real utility to mankind, it is, at
least, of the greatest utility to those, who have assumed the office of
conducting them thither.
108.
"But," it will be said, "is not the dogma of the immortality of the soul
comforting to beings, who are often very unhappy here below? Though it
should be an error, is it not pleasing? Is it not a blessing to man to
believe, that he shall be able to enjoy hereafter a happiness, which
is denied him upon earth?" Thus, poor mortals! you make your wishes the
measure of truth; because you desire to live for ever, and to be happier,
you at once conclude, that you shall live for ever, and that you shall be
more fortunate in an unknown world, than in this known world, where you
often find nothing but affliction! Consent therefore to leave, without
regret, this world which gives the greater part of you much more torment
than pleasure. Submit to the order of nature, which demands that you, as
well as all other beings, should not endure for ever.
We are incessantly told, that religion has infinite consolations for the
unfortunate, that the idea of the soul's immortality, and of a happier
life, is very proper to elevate man, and to support him under adversity,
which awaits him upon earth. It is said, on the contrary, that materialism
is an afflicting system, calculated to degrade man; then it puts him
upon a level with the brutes, breaks his courage, and shows him no other
prospect than frightful annihilation, capable of driving him to despair
and suicide, whenever he is unhappy. The great art of theologians is to
blow hot and cold, to afflict and console, to frighten and encourage.