THE SOUL: THE DOCTRINE OF IMMORTALITY.
Descartes taught that an absolute difference of kind separates matter,
as that which possesses extension, from spirit, as that which thinks.
They not only have no character in common, but it is inconceivable that
they should have any. On the assumption, that the attributes of the two
were wholly different, it appeared to be a necessary consequence that
the hypothetical causes of these attributes--their respective
substances--must be totally different. Notably, in the matter of
divisibility, since that which has no extension cannot be divisible, it
seemed that the _chose pensante_, the soul, must be an indivisible
entity.
Later philosophers, accepting this notion of the soul, were naturally
much perplexed to understand how, if matter and spirit had nothing in
common, they could act and react on one another. All the changes of
matter being modes of motion, the difficulty of understanding how a
moving extended material body was to affect a thinking thing which had
no dimension, was as great as that involved in solving the problem of
how to hit a nominative case with a stick. Hence, the successors of
Descartes either found themselves obliged, with the Occasionalists, to
call in the aid of the Deity, who was supposed to be a sort of
go-between betwixt matter and spirit; or they had recourse, with
Leibnitz, to the doctrine of pre-established harmony, which denied any
influence of the body on the soul, or _vice versâ_, and compared matter
and spirit to two clocks so accurately regulated to keep time with one
another, that the one struck when ever the other pointed to the hour;
or, with Berkeley, they abolished the "substance" of matter altogether,
as a superfluity, though they failed to see that the same arguments
equally justified the abolition of soul as another superfluity, and the
reduction of the universe to a series of events or phenomena; or,
finally, with Spinoza, to whom Berkeley makes a perilously close
approach, they asserted the existence of only one substance, with two
chief attributes, the one, thought, and the other, extension.
There remained only one possible position, which, had it been taken up
earlier, might have saved an immensity of trouble; and that was to
affirm that we do not, and cannot, know anything about the "substance"
either of the thinking thing, or of the extended thing. And Hume's sound
common sense led him to defend this thesis, which Locke had already
foreshadowed, with respect to the question of the substance of the soul.
Hume enunciates two opinions. The first is that the question itself is
unintelligible, and therefore cannot receive any answer; the second is
that the popular doctrine respecting the immateriality, simplicity, and
indivisibility of a thinking substance is a "true atheism, and will
serve to justify all those sentiments for which Spinoza is so
universally infamous."
In support of the first opinion, Hume points out that it is impossible
to attach any definite meaning to the word "substance" when employed for
the hypothetical substratum of soul and matter. For if we define
substance as that which may exist by itself, the definition does not
distinguish the soul from perceptions. It is perfectly easy to conceive
that states of consciousness are self-subsistent. And, if the substance
of the soul is defined as that in which perceptions inhere, what is
meant by the inherence? Is such inherence conceivable? If conceivable,
what evidence is there of it? And what is the use of a substratum to
things which, for anything we know to the contrary, are capable of
existing by themselves?
Moreover, it may be added, supposing the soul has a substance, how do we
know that it is different from the substance, which, on like grounds,
must be supposed to underlie the qualities of matter?
Again, if it be said that our personal identity requires the assumption
of a substance which remains the same while the accidents of perception
shift and change, the question arises what is meant by personal
identity?
"For my part," says Hume, "when I enter most intimately into what I
call _myself_, I always stumble on some particular perception or
other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or
pleasure. I never can catch _myself_ at any time without a
perception, and never can observe anything but the perception. When
my perceptions are removed for any time, as by sound sleep, so long
am I insensible of _myself_, and may be truly said not to exist.
And were all my perceptions removed by death, and I could neither
think, nor feel, nor see, nor love, nor hate, after the dissolution
of my body, I should be entirely annihilated, nor do I conceive
what is further requisite to make me a perfect nonentity. If any
one, upon serious and unprejudiced reflection, thinks he has a
different notion of _himself_, I must confess I can reason no
longer with him. All I can allow him is, that he may be in the
right as well as I, and that we are essentially different in this
particular. He may perhaps perceive something simple and continued
which he calls _himself_, though I am certain there is no such
principle in me.
"But setting aside some metaphysicians of this kind, I may venture
to affirm of the rest of mankind, that they are nothing but a
bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed one
another with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux
and movement.... The mind is a kind of theatre, where several
perceptions successively make their appearance, pass, repass, glide
away, and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations.
There is properly no _simplicity_ in it at one time, nor _identity_
in different, whatever natural propension we may have to imagine
that simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theatre must
not mislead us. They are the successive perceptions only that
constitute the mind; nor have we the most distant notion of the
place where these scenes are represented, or of the materials of
which it is composed.
"What then gives so great a propension to ascribe an identity to
these successive perceptions, and to suppose ourselves possessed of
an invariable and uninterrupted existence through the whole course
of our lives? In order to answer this question, we must distinguish
between personal identity as it regards our thought and
imagination, and as it regards our passions, or the concern we take
in ourselves. The first is our present subject; and to explain it
perfectly we must take the matter pretty deep, and account for that
identity which we attribute to plants and animals; there being a
great analogy betwixt it and the identity of a self or
person."--(I. pp. 321, 322.)
Perfect identity is exhibited by an object which remains unchanged
throughout a certain time; perfect diversity is seen in two or more
objects which are separated by intervals of space and periods of time.
But, in both these cases, there is no sharp line of demarcation between
identity and diversity, and it is impossible to say when an object
ceases to be one and becomes two.
When a sea-anemone multiplies by division, there is a time during which
it is said to be one animal partially divided; but, after a while, it
becomes two animals adherent together, and the limit between these
conditions is purely arbitrary. So in mineralogy, a crystal of a
definite chemical composition may have its substance replaced, particle
by particle, by another chemical compound. When does it lose its
primitive identity and become a new thing?
Again, a plant or an animal, in the course of its existence, from the
condition of an egg or seed to the end of life, remains the same neither
in form, nor in structure, nor in the matter of which it is composed:
every attribute it possesses is constantly changing, and yet we say that
it is always one and the same individual. And if, in this case, we
attribute identity without supposing an indivisible immaterial something
to underlie and condition that identity, why should we need the
supposition in the case of that succession of changeful phenomena we
call the mind?
In fact, we ascribe identity to an individual plant or animal, simply
because there has been no moment of time at which we could observe any
division of it into parts separated by time or space. Every experience
we have of it is as one thing and not as two; and we sum up our
experiences in the ascription of identity, although we know quite well
that, strictly speaking, it has not been the same for any two moments.
So with the mind. Our perceptions flow in even succession; the
impressions of the present moment are inextricably mixed up with the
memories of yesterday and the expectations of to-morrow, and all are
connected by the links of cause and effect.
" ... as the same individual republic may not only change its
members, but also its laws and constitutions; in like manner the
same person may vary his character and disposition, as well as his
impressions and ideas, without losing his identity. Whatever
changes he endures, his several parts are still connected by the
relation of causation. And in this view our identity with regard to
the passions serves to corroborate that with regard to the
imagination, by the making our distant perceptions influence each
other, and by giving us a present concern for our past or future
pains or pleasures.
"As memory alone acquaints us with the continuance and extent of
this succession of perceptions, 'tis to be considered, upon that
account chiefly, as the source of personal identity. Had we no
memory we never should have any notion of causation, nor
consequently of that chain of causes and effects which constitute
our self or person. But having once acquired this notion of
causation from the memory, we can extend the same chain of causes,
and consequently the identity of our persons, beyond our memory,
and can comprehend times, and circumstances, and actions, which we
have entirely forgot, but suppose in general to have existed. For
how few of our past actions are there of which we have any memory?
Who can tell me, for instance, what were his thoughts and actions
on the first of January, 1715, the eleventh of March, 1719, and the
third of August, 1733? Or will he affirm, because he has entirely
forgot the incidents of those days, that the present self is not
the same person with the self of that time, and by that means
overturn all the most established notions of personal identity? In
this view, therefore, memory does not so much _produce_ as
_discover_ personal identity, by showing us the relation of cause
and effect among our different perceptions. 'Twill be incumbent on
those who affirm that memory produces entirely our personal
identity, to give a reason why we can thus extend our identity
beyond our memory.
"The whole of this doctrine leads us to a conclusion which is of
great importance in the present affair, viz. that all the nice and
subtle questions concerning personal identity can never possibly be
decided, and are to be regarded rather as grammatical than as
philosophical difficulties. Identity depends on the relations of
ideas, and these relations produce identity by means of that easy
transition they occasion. But as the relations, and the easiness of
the transition may diminish by insensible degrees, we have no just
standard by which we can decide any dispute concerning the time
when they acquire or lose a title to the name of identity. All the
disputes concerning the identity of connected objects are merely
verbal, except so far as the relation of parts gives rise to some
fiction or imaginary principle of union, as we have already
observed.
"What I have said concerning the first origin and uncertainty of
our notion of identity, as applied to the human mind may be
extended, with little or no variation, to that of _simplicity_. An
object, whose different co-existent parts are bound together by a
close relation, operates upon the imagination after much the same
manner as one perfectly simple and undivisible, and requires not a
much greater stretch of thought in order to its conception. From
this similarity of operation we attribute a simplicity to it, and
feign a principle of union as the support of this simplicity, and
the centre of all the different parts and qualities of the
object."--(I. pp. 331-3.)
The final result of Hume's reasoning comes to this: As we use the name
of body for the sum of the phenomena which make up our corporeal
existence, so we employ the name of soul for the sum of the phenomena
which constitute our mental existence; and we have no more reason, in
the latter case, than in the former, to suppose that there is anything
beyond the phenomena which answers to the name. In the case of the soul,
as in that of the body, the idea of substance is a mere fiction of the
imagination. This conclusion is nothing but a rigorous application of
Berkeley's reasoning concerning matter to mind, and it is fully adopted
by Kant.[35]
Having arrived at the conclusion that the conception of a soul, as a
substantive thing, is a mere figment of the imagination; and that,
whether it exists or not, we can by no possibility know anything about
it, the inquiry as to the durability of the soul may seem superfluous.
Nevertheless, there is still a sense in which, even under these
conditions, such an inquiry is justifiable. Leaving aside the problem of
the substance of the soul, and taking the word "soul" simply as a name
for the series of mental phenomena which make up an individual mind; it
remains open to us to ask, whether that series commenced with, or
before, the series of phenomena which constitute the corresponding
individual body; and whether it terminates with the end of the corporeal
series, or goes on after the existence of the body has ended. And, in
both cases, there arises the further question, whether the excess of
duration of the mental series over that of the body, is finite or
infinite.
Hume has discussed some of these questions in the remarkable essay _On
the Immortality of the Soul_, which was not published till after his
death, and which seems long to have remained but little known.
Nevertheless, indeed, possibly, for that reason, its influence has been
manifested in unexpected quarters, and its main arguments have been
adduced by archiepiscopal and episcopal authority in evidence of the
value of revelation. Dr. Whately,[36] sometime Archbishop of Dublin,
paraphrases Hume, though he forgets to cite him; and Bishop Courtenay's
elaborate work,[37] dedicated to the Archbishop, is a development of
that prelate's version of Hume's essay.
This little paper occupies only some ten pages, but it is not wonderful
that it attracted an acute logician like Whately, for it is a model of
clear and vigorous statement. The argument hardly admits of
condensation, so that I must let Hume speak for himself:--
"By the mere light of reason it seems difficult to prove the
immortality of the soul: the arguments for it are commonly derived
either from metaphysical topics, or moral, or physical. But in
reality it is the gospel, and the gospel alone, that has brought
_life and immortality_ to light.[38]
"1. Metaphysical topics suppose that the soul is immaterial, and
that 'tis impossible for thought to belong to a material
substance.[39] But just metaphysics teach us that the notion of
substance is wholly confused and imperfect; and that we have no
other idea of any substance, than as an aggregate of particular
qualities inhering in an unknown something. Matter, therefore, and
spirit, are at bottom equally unknown, and we cannot determine what
qualities inhere in the one or in the other.[40] They likewise
teach us, that nothing can be decided _a priori_ concerning any
cause or effect; and that experience, being the only source of our
judgments of this nature, we cannot know from any other principle,
whether matter, by its structure or arrangement, may not be the
cause of thought. Abstract reasonings cannot decide any question of
fact or existence. But admitting a spiritual substance to be
dispersed throughout the universe, like the ethereal fire of the
Stoics, and to be the only inherent subject of thought, we have
reason to conclude from _analogy_, that nature uses it after the
manner she does the other substance, _matter_. She employs it as a
kind of paste or clay; modifies it into a variety of forms or
existences; dissolves after a time each modification, and from its
substance erects a new form. As the same material substance may
successively compose the bodies of all animals, the same spiritual
substance may compose their minds: Their consciousness, or that
system of thought which they formed during life, may be continually
dissolved by death, and nothing interests them in the new
modification. The most positive assertors of the mortality of the
soul never denied the immortality of its substance; and that an
immaterial substance, as well as a material, may lose its memory
or consciousness, appears in part from experience, if the soul be
immaterial. Seasoning from the common course of nature, and without
supposing any new interposition of the Supreme Cause, which ought
always to be excluded from philosophy, _what is incorruptible must
also be ingenerable_. The soul, therefore, if immortal, existed
before our birth, and if the former existence noways concerned us,
neither will the latter. Animals undoubtedly feel, think, love,
hate, will, and even reason, though in a more imperfect manner than
men: Are their souls also immaterial and immortal?"[41]
Hume next proceeds to consider the moral arguments, and chiefly
" ... those derived from the justice of God, which is supposed to
be further interested in the future punishment of the vicious and
reward of the virtuous."
But if by the justice of God we moan the same attribute which we call
justice in ourselves, then why should either reward or punishment be
extended beyond this life?[42] Our sole means of knowing anything is
the reasoning faculty which God has given us; and that reasoning
faculty not only denies us any conception of a future state, but fails
to furnish a single valid argument in favour of the belief that the mind
will endure after the dissolution of the body.
" ... If any purpose of nature be clear, we may affirm that the
whole scope and intention of man's creation, so far as we can judge
by natural reason, is limited to the present life."
To the argument that the powers of man are so much greater than the
needs of this life require, that they suggest a future scene in which
they can be employed, Hume replies:--
"If the reason of man gives him great superiority above other
animals, his necessities are proportionably multiplied upon him;
his whole time, his whole capacity, activity, courage, and passion,
find sufficient employment in fencing against the miseries of his
present condition; and frequently, nay, almost always, are too
slender for the business assigned them. A pair of shoes, perhaps,
was never yet wrought to the highest degree of perfection that
commodity is capable of attaining; yet it is necessary, at least
very useful, that there should be some politicians and moralists,
even some geometers, poets and philosophers, among mankind. The
powers of men are no more superior to their wants, considered
merely in this life, than those of foxes and hares are, compared to
_their_ wants and to their period of existence. The inference from
parity of reason is therefore obvious."
In short, Hume argues that, if the faculties with which we are endowed
are unable to discover a future state, and if the most attentive
consideration of their nature serves to show that they are adapted to
this life and nothing more, it is surely inconsistent with any
conception of justice that we should be dealt with, as if we had all
along had a clear knowledge of the fact thus carefully concealed from
us. What should we think of the justice of a father, who gave his son
every reason to suppose that a trivial fault would only be visited by a
box on the ear; and then, years afterwards, put him on the rack for a
week for the same fault?
Again, the suggestion arises, if God is the cause of all things, he is
responsible for evil as well as for good; and it appears utterly
irreconcilable with our notions of justice that he should punish another
for that which he has, in fact, done himself. Moreover, just punishment
bears a proportion to the offence, while suffering which is infinite is
_ipso facto_ disproportionate to any finite deed.
"Why then eternal punishment for the temporary offences of so frail
a creature as man? Can any one approve of Alexander's rage, who
intended to exterminate a whole nation because they had seized his
favourite horse Bucephalus?
"Heaven and hell suppose two distinct species of men, the good and
the bad; but the greatest part of mankind float betwixt vice and
virtue. Were one to go round the world with the intention of giving
a good supper to the righteous and a sound drubbing to the wicked,
he would frequently be embarrassed in his choice, and would find
the merits and demerits of most men and women scarcely amount to
the value of either."[43]
One can but admire the broad humanity and the insight into the springs
of action manifest in this passage. _Comprendre est à moitié pardonner_.
The more one knows of the real conditions which determine men's acts the
less one finds either to praise or blame. For kindly David Hume, "the
damnation of one man is an infinitely greater evil in the universe than
the subversion of a thousand million of kingdoms." And he would have
felt with his countryman Burns, that even "auld Nickie Ben" should "hae
a chance."
As against those who reason for the necessity of a future state, in
order that the justice of the Deity may be satisfied, Hume's
argumentation appears unanswerable. For if the justice of God resembles
what we mean by justice, the bestowal of infinite happiness for finite
well-doing and infinite misery for finite ill-doing, it is in no sense
just. And, if the justice of God does not resemble what we mean by
justice, it is an abuse of language to employ the name of justice for
the attribute described by it. But, as against those who choose to argue
that there is nothing in what is known to us of the attributes of the
Deity inconsistent with a future state of rewards and punishments,
Hume's pleadings have no force. Bishop Butler's argument that, inasmuch
as the visitation of our acts by rewards and punishments takes place in
this life, rewards and punishments must be consistent with the
attributes of the Deity, and therefore may go on as long as the mind
endures, is unanswerable. Whatever exists is, by the hypothesis,
existent by the will of God; and, therefore, the pains and pleasures
which exist now may go on existing for all eternity, either increasing,
diminishing, or being endlessly varied in their intensity, as they are
now.
It is remarkable that Hume does not refer to the sentimental arguments
for the immortality of the soul which are so much in vogue at the
present day; and which are based upon our desire for a longer conscious
existence than that which nature appears to have allotted to us. Perhaps
he did not think them worth notice. For indeed it is not a little
strange, that our strong desire that a certain occurrence should happen
should be put forward as evidence that it will happen. If my intense
desire to see the friend, from whom I have parted, does not bring him
from the other side of the world, or take me thither; if the mother's
agonised prayer that her child should live has not prevented him from
dying; experience certainly affords no presumption that the strong
desire to be alive after death, which we call the aspiration after
immortality, is any more likely to be gratified. As Hume truly says,
"All doctrines are to be suspected which are favoured by our passions;"
and the doctrine, that we are immortal because we should extremely like
to be so, contains the quintessence of suspiciousness.
In respect of the existence and attributes of the soul, as of those of
the Deity, then, logic is powerless and reason silent. At the most we
can get no further than the conclusion of Kant:--
"After we have satisfied ourselves of the vanity of all the
ambitious attempts of reason to fly beyond the bounds of
experience, enough remains of practical value to content us. It is
true that no one may boast that he _knows_ that God and a future
life exist; for, if he possesses such knowledge, he is just the
man for whom I have long been seeking. All knowledge (touching an
object of mere reason) can be communicated, and therefore I might
hope to see my own knowledge increased to this prodigious extent,
by his instruction. No; our conviction in these matters is not
_logical_, but _moral_ certainty; and, inasmuch as it rests upon
subjective grounds, (of moral disposition) I must not even say: _it
is_ morally certain that there is a God, and so on; but, _I am_
morally certain, and so on. That is to say: the belief in a God and
in another world is so interwoven with my moral nature, that the
former can no more vanish, than the latter can ever be torn from
me.
"The only point to be remarked here is that this act of faith of
the intellect (_Vernunftglaube_) assumes the existence of moral
dispositions. If we leave them aside, and suppose a mind quite
indifferent to moral laws, the inquiry started by reason becomes
merely a subject for speculation; and [the conclusion attained] may
then indeed be supported by strong arguments from analogy, but not
by such as are competent to overcome persistent scepticism.
"There is no one, however, who can fail to be interested in these
questions. For, although he may be excluded from moral influences
by the want of a good disposition, yet, even in this case, enough
remains to lead him to fear a divine existence and a future state.
To this end, no more is necessary than that he can at least have no
certainty that there is no such being, and no future life; for, to
make this conclusion demonstratively certain, he must be able to
prove the impossibility of both; and this assuredly no rational man
can undertake to do. This negative belief, indeed, cannot produce
either morality or good dispositions, but can operate in an
analogous fashion, by powerfully repressing the outbreak of evil
tendencies.
"But it will be said, is this all that Pure Reason can do when it
gazes out beyond the bounds of experience? Nothing more than two
articles of faith? Common sense could achieve as much without
calling the philosophers to its counsels!
"I will not here speak of the service which philosophy has rendered
to human reason by the laborious efforts of its criticism, granting
that the outcome proves to be merely negative: about that matter
something is to be said in the following section. But do you then
ask, that the knowledge which interests all men shall transcend the
common understanding and be discovered for you only by
philosophers? The very thing which you make a reproach, is the best
confirmation of the justice of the previous conclusions, since it
shows that which could not, at first, have been anticipated:
namely, that in those matters which concern all men alike, nature
is not guilty of distributing her gifts with partiality; and that
the highest philosophy, in dealing with the most important concerns
of humanity, is able to take us no further than the guidance which
she affords to the commonest understanding."[44]
In short, nothing can be proved or disproved, respecting either the
distinct existence, the substance, or the durability of the soul. So
far, Kant is at one with Hume. But Kant adds, as you cannot disprove the
immortality of the soul, and as the belief therein is very useful for
moral purposes, you may assume it. To which, had Hume lived half a
century later, he would probably have replied, that, if morality has no
better foundation than an assumption, it is not likely to bear much
strain; and, if it has a better foundation, the assumption rather
weakens than strengthens it.
As has been already said, Hume is not content with denying that we know
anything about the existence or the nature of the soul; but he carries
the war into the enemy's camp, and accuses those who affirm the
immateriality, simplicity, and indivisibility of the thinking substance,
of atheism and Spinozism, which are assumed to be convertible terms.
The method of attack is ingenious. Observation appears to acquaint us
with two different systems of beings, and both Spinoza and orthodox
philosophers agree, that the necessary substratum of each of these is a
substance, in which the phenomena adhere, or of which they are
attributes or modes.
"I observe first the universe of objects or of body; the sun, moon,
and stars; the earth, seas, plants, animals, men, ships, houses,
and other productions either of art or of nature. Here Spinoza
appears, and tells me that these are only modifications and that
the subject in which they inhere is simple, uncompounded, and
indivisible. After this I consider the other system of beings, viz.
the universe of thought, or my impressions and ideas. Then I
observe another sun, moon, and stars; an earth and seas, covered
and inhabited by plants and animals, towns, houses, mountains,
rivers; and, in short, everything I can discover or conceive in the
first system. Upon my inquiring concerning these, theologians
present themselves, and tell me that these also are modifications,
and modifications of one simple, uncompounded, and indivisible
substance. Immediately upon which I am deafened with the noise of a
hundred voices, that treat the first hypothesis with detestation
and scorn, and the second with applause and veneration. I turn my
attention to these hypotheses to see what may be the reason of so
great a partiality; and find that they have the same fault of being
unintelligible, and that, as far as we can understand them, they
are so much alike, that 'tis impossible to discover any absurdity
in one, which is not common to both of them."--(I. p. 309.)
For the manner in which Hume makes his case good, I must refer to the
original. Plain people may rest satisfied that both hypotheses are
unintelligible, without plunging any further among syllogisms, the
premisses of which convey no meaning, while the conclusions carry no
conviction.
FOOTNOTES:
[35] "Our internal intuition shows no permanent existence, for the Ego
is only the consciousness of my thinking." "There is no means whatever
by which we can learn anything respecting the constitution of the soul,
so far as regards the possibility of its separate existence."--_Kritik
von den Paralogismen der reinen Vernunft_.
[36] _Essays on Some of the Peculiarities of the Christian Religion_,
(Essay I. Revelation of a Future State), by Richard Whately, D.D.,
Archbishop of Dublin. Fifth Edition, revised, 1846.
[37] _The Future States: their Evidences and Nature; considered on
Principles Physical, Moral, and Scriptural, with the Design of showing
the Value of the Gospel Revelation_ by the Right Rev. Reginald
Courtenay, D.D., Lord Bishop of Kingston (Jamaica), 1857.
[38] "Now that 'Jesus Christ brought life and immortality to light
through the Gospel,' and that in the most literal sense, which implies
that the revelation of the doctrine is _peculiar_ to His Gospel, seems
to be at least the most obvious meaning of the Scriptures of the New
Testament."--Whately, _l.c._ p. 27.
[39] Compare, _Of the Immateriality of the Soul_, Section V. of Part
IV., Book I., of the _Treatise_, in which Hume concludes (I. p. 319)
that, whether it be material or immaterial, "in both cases the
metaphysical arguments for the immortality of the soul are equally
inconclusive; and in both cases the moral arguments and those derived
from the analogy of nature are equally strong and convincing."
[40] "The question again respecting the materiality of the soul is one
which I am at a loss to understand clearly, till it shall have been
clearly determined _what matter is_. We know nothing of it, any more
than of mind, except its attributes."--Whately, _l.c._ p. 66.
[41] "None of those who contend for the natural immortality of the soul
... have been able to extricate themselves from one difficulty, viz.
that all their arguments apply, with exactly the same force, to prove an
immortality, not only of _brutes_, but even of _plants_; though in such
a conclusion as this they are never willing to acquiesce."--Whately,
_l.c._ p. 67.
[42] "Nor are we therefore authorised to infer _à priori_, independent
of Revelation, a future state of retribution, from the irregularities
prevailing in the present life, since that future state does not account
fully for these irregularities. It may explain, indeed, how present evil
may be conducive to future good, but not why the good could not be
attained without the evil; it may reconcile with our notions of the
divine justice the present prosperity of the wicked, but it does not
account for the existence of the wicked."--Whately, _l.c._ pp. 69, 70.
[43] "So reason also shows, that for man to expect to earn for himself
by the practice of virtue, and claim, as his just right, an immortality
of exalted happiness, is a most extravagant and groundless
pretension."--Whately, _l.c._ p. 101. On the other hand, however, the
Archbishop sees no unreasonableness in a man's earning for himself an
immortality of intense unhappiness by the practice of vice. So that life
is, naturally, a venture in which you may lose all, but can earn
nothing. It may be thought somewhat hard upon mankind if they are pushed
into a speculation of this sort, willy-nilly.
[44] _Kritik der reinen Vernunft_. Ed. Hartenstein, p. 547.