_Nature and her Laws_.
Man has always deceived himself when he abandoned experience to follow
imaginary systems.--He is the work of nature.--He exists in Nature.--He
is submitted to the laws of Nature.--He cannot deliver himself from
them:--cannot step beyond them even in thought. It is in vain his mind
would spring forward beyond the visible world: direful and imperious
necessity ever compels his return--being formed by Nature, he is
circumscribed by her laws; there exists nothing beyond the great whole
of which he forms a part, of which he experiences the influence. The
beings his fancy pictures as above nature, or distinguished from her,
are always chimeras formed after that which he has already seen, but of
which it is utterly impossible he should ever form any finished idea,
either as to the place they occupy, or their manner of acting--for him
there is not, there can be nothing out of that Nature which includes all
beings.
Therefore, instead of seeking out of the world he inhabits for beings
who can procure him a happiness denied to him by Nature, let him study
this Nature, learn her laws, contemplate her energies, observe the
immutable rules by which she acts.--Let him apply these discoveries to
his own felicity, and submit in silence to her precepts, which nothing
can alter.--Let him cheerfully consent to be ignorant of causes hid from
him under the most impenetrable veil.--Let him yield to the decrees of
a universal power, which can never be brought within his comprehension,
nor ever emancipate him from those laws imposed on him by his essence.
The distinction which has been so often made between the _physical_ and
the _moral_ being, is evidently an abuse of terms. Man is a being
purely physical: the moral man is nothing more than this physical being
considered under a certain point of view; that is to say, with
relation to some of his modes of action, arising out of his individual
organization. But is not this organization itself the work of Nature?
The motion or impulse to action, of which he is susceptible, is that
not physical? His visible actions, as well as the invisible motion
interiorly excited by his will or his thoughts, are equally the natural
effects, the necessary consequences, of his peculiar construction,
and the impulse he receives from those beings by whom he is always
surrounded. All that the human mind has successively invented, with a
view to change or perfect his being, to render himself happy, was never
more than the necessary consequence of man's peculiar essence, and that
of the beings who act upon him. The object of all his institutions, all
his reflections, all his knowledge, is only to procure that happiness
toward which he is continually impelled by the peculiarity of his
nature. All that he does, all that he thinks, all that he is, all that
he will be, is nothing more than what Universal Nature has made him.
His ideas, his actions, his will, are the necessary effects of those
properties infused into him by Nature, and of those circumstances in
which she has placed him. In short, art is nothing but Nature acting
with the tools she has furnished.
Nature sends man naked and destitute into this world which is to be his
abode: he quickly learns to cover his nakedness--to shelter himself from
the inclemencies of the weather, first with artlessly constructed huts,
and the skins of the beasts of the forest; by degrees he mends their
appearance, renders them more convenient: he establishes manufactories
to supply his immediate wants; he digs clay, gold, and other fossils
from the bowels of the earth; converts them into bricks for his house,
into vessels for his use, gradually improves their shape, and augments
their beauty. To a being exalted above our terrestrial globe, man would
not appear less subjected to the laws of Nature when naked in the forest
painfully seeking his sustenance, than when living in civilized society
surrounded with ease, or enriched with greater experience, plunged in
luxury, where he every day invents a thousand new wants and discovers
a thousand new modes of supplying them. All the steps taken by man to
regulate his existence, ought only to be considered as a long succession
of causes and effects, which are nothing more than the development of
the first impulse given him by nature.
The same animal, by virtue of his organization, passes successively from
the most simple to the most complicated wants; it is nevertheless the
consequence of his nature. The butterfly whose beauty we admire, whose
colours are so rich, whose appearance is so brilliant, commences as
an inanimate unattractive egg; from this, heat produces a worm, this
becomes a chrysalis, then changes into that beautiful insect adorned
with the most vivid tints: arrived at this stage he reproduces,
he generates; at last despoiled of his ornaments, he is obliged to
disappear, having fulfilled the task imposed on him by Nature, having
performed the circle of transformation marked out for beings of his
order.
The same course, the same change takes place in the vegetable world. It
is by a series of combinations originally interwoven with the energies
of the aloe, that this plant is insensibly regulated, gradually
expanded, and at the end of a number of years produces those flowers
which announce its dissolution.
It is equally so with man, who in all his motion, all the changes
he undergoes, never acts but according to the laws peculiar to his
organization, and to the matter of which he is composed.
The _physical man_, is he who acts by the causes our faculties make us
understand.
The _moral man_, is he who acts by physical causes, with which our
prejudices preclude us from becoming perfectly acquainted.
The _wild man_ is a child destitute of experience, incapable of
proceeding in his happiness, because he has not learnt how to oppose
resistance to the impulses he receives from those beings by whom he is
surrounded.
The _civilized man_, is he whom experience and sociality have enabled to
draw from nature the means of his own happiness, because he has learned
to oppose resistance to those impulses he receives from exterior beings,
when experience has taught him they would be destructive to his welfare.
The _enlightened man_ is man in his maturity, in his perfection; who
is capable of advancing his own felicity, because he has learned to
examine, to think for himself, and not to take that for truth upon
the authority of others, which experience has taught him a critical
disquisition will frequently prove erroneous.
The _happy man_ is he who knows how to enjoy the benefits bestowed
upon him by nature: in other words, he who thinks for himself; who is
thankful for the good he possesses; who does not envy the welfare of
others, nor sigh after imaginary benefits always beyond his grasp.
The _unhappy man_ is he who is incapacitated to enjoy the benefits of
nature; that is, he who suffers others to think for him; who neglects
the absolute good he possesses, in a fruitless search after ideal
benefits; who vainly sighs after that which ever eludes his pursuit.
It necessarily results, that man in his enquiry ought always to
contemplate experience, and natural philosophy: These are what he should
consult in his religion,--in his morals,--in his legislation,--in
his political government,--in the arts,--in the sciences,--in his
pleasures,--above all, in his misfortunes. Experience teaches that
Nature acts by simple, regular, and invariable laws. It is by his
senses, man is bound to this universal Nature; it is by his perception
he must penetrate her secrets; it is from his senses he must draw
experience of her laws. Therefore, whenever he neglects to acquire
experience or quits its path, he stumbles into an abyss; his imagination
leads him astray.
All the errors of man are physical: he never deceives himself but when
he neglects to return back to nature, to consult her laws, to call
practical knowledge to his aid. It is for want of practical knowledge
he forms such imperfect ideas of matter, of its properties, of its
combinations, of its power, of its mode of action, and of the energies
which spring from its essence. Wanting this experience, the whole
universe, to him, is but one vast scene of error. The most ordinary
results appear to him the most astonishing phenomena; he wonders at
every thing, understands nothing, and yields the guidance of his actions
to those interested in betraying his interests. He is ignorant of
Nature, and he has mistaken her laws; he has not contemplated the
necessary routine which she has marked out for every thing she holds.
Mistaken the laws of Nature, did I say? He has mistaken himself: the
consequence is, that all his systems, all his conjectures, all his
reasonings, from which he has banished experience, are nothing more than
a tissue of errors, a long chain of inconsistencies.
Error is always prejudicial to man: it is by deceiving himself, the
human race is plunged into misery. He neglected Nature; he did not
comprehend her laws; he formed gods of the most preposterous and
ridiculous kinds: these became the sole objects of his hope, and the
creatures of his fear: he was unhappy, he trembled under these visionary
deities; under the supposed influence of visionary beings created by
himself; under the terror inspired by blocks of stone; by logs of
wood; by flying fish; or the frowns of men, mortal as himself, whom
his disturbed fancy had elevated above that Nature of which alone he
is capable of forming any idea. His very posterity laughs at his folly,
because experience has convinced them of the absurdity of his groundless
fears--of his misplaced worship. Thus has passed away the ancient
mythology, with all the trifling and nonsensical attributes attached to
it by ignorance.
Not understanding that Nature, equal in her distributions, entirely
destitute of malice, follows only necessary and immutable laws, when
she either produces beings or destroys them, when she causes those to
suffer, whose construction creates sensibility; when she scatters among
them good and evil; when she subjects them to incessant change--he did
not perceive it was in the breast of Nature herself, that it was in her
exuberance he ought to seek to satisfy his deficiencies; for remedies
against his pains; for the means of rendering himself happy: he expected
to derive these benefits from fantastic beings, whom he supposed to
be above Nature; whom he mistakingly imagined to be the authors of his
pleasures, and the cause of his misfortunes. From hence it appears that
to his ignorance of Nature, man owes the creation of those illusive
powers; under which he has so long trembled with fear; that
superstitious worship, which has been the source of all his misery, and
the evils entailed upon posterity.
For want of clearly comprehending his own peculiar nature, his proper
course, his wants, and his rights, man has fallen in society, from
FREEDOM into SLAVERY. He had forgotten the purpose of his existence, or
else he believed himself obliged to suppress the natural desires of his
heart, to sacrifice his welfare to the caprice of chiefs, either elected
by himself, or submitted to without examination. He was ignorant of the
true policy of association--of the object of government; he disdained to
listen to the voice of Nature, which loudly proclaimed the price of all
submission to be protection and happiness: the end of all government
is the benefit of the governed, not the exclusive advantage of the
governors. He gave himself up without enquiry to men like himself, whom
his prejudices induced him to contemplate as beings of a superior order,
as Gods upon earth, they profited by his ignorance, took advantage of
his prejudices, corrupted him, rendered him vicious, enslaved him, and
made him miserable. Thus man, intended by Nature for the full enjoyment
of liberty, to patiently search out her laws, to investigate her
secrets, to cling to his experience; has, from a neglect of her salutary
admonitions, from an inexcusable ignorance of his own peculiar essence,
fallen into servility: has been wickedly governed.
Having mistaken himself, he has remained ignorant of the indispensable
affinity that subsists between him, and the beings of his own species:
having mistaken his duty to himself, it consequently follows, he has
mistaken his duty to others. He made a calculation in error of what his
happiness required; he did not perceive, what he owed to himself, the
excesses he ought to avoid, the desires he ought to resist, the impulses
he ought to follow, in order to consolidate his felicity, to promote his
comfort, and to further his advantage. In short, he was ignorant of his
true interests; hence his irregularities, his excesses, his shameful
extravagance, with that long train of vices, to which he has abandoned
himself, at the expense of his preservation, at the hazard of his
permanent prosperity.
It is, therefore, ignorance of himself that has hindered man from
enlightening his morals. The corrupt authorities to which he had
submitted, felt an interest in obstructing the practice of his duties,
even when he knew them. Time, with the influence of ignorance, aided by
his corruption, gave them a strength not to be resisted by his enfeebled
voice. His duties continued unperformed, and he fell into contempt both
with himself and with others.
The ignorance of Man has endured so long, he has taken such slow,
such irresolute steps to ameliorate his condition, only because he has
neglected to study Nature, to scrutinize her laws, to search out her
expedients, to discover her properties, that his sluggishness finds its
account, in permitting himself to be guided by example, rather than to
follow experience, which demands activity; to be led by routine, rather
than by his reason, which enjoins reflection; to take that for truth
upon the authority of others, which would require a diligent and patient
investigation. From hence may be traced the hatred man betrays for every
thing that deviates from those rules to which he has been accustomed;
hence his stupid, his scrupulous respect for antiquity, for the most
silly, the most absurd and ridiculous institutions of his fathers:
hence those fears that seize him, when the most beneficial changes are
proposed to him, or the most likely attempts are made to better his
condition. He dreads to examine, because he has been taught to hold
it irreverent of something immediately connected with his welfare; his
credulity suffers him to believe the interested advice, and spurns at
those who wish to show him the danger of the road he is travelling.
This is the reason why nations linger on in the most shameful lethargy,
suffering under abuses handed down from century to century, trembling at
the very idea of that which alone can repair their calamities.
It is for want of energy, for want of consulting experience, that
medicine, natural philosophy, agriculture, painting, in fact, all the
useful sciences, have so long remained under the fetters of authority,
have progressed so little: those who profess these sciences, prefer
treading the beaten paths, however imperfect, rather than strike out
new ones,--they prefer the phrensy of their imagination, their voluntary
conjectures, to that laboured experience which alone can extract her
secrets from Nature.
Man, in short, whether from sloth or from terror, having abnegated the
evidence of his senses, has been guided in all his actions, in all his
enterprizes, by imagination, by enthusiasm, by habit, by preconceived
opinions, but above all, by the influence of authority, which knew
well how to deceive him, to turn his ignorance to esteem, his sloth
to advantage. Thus imaginary, unsubstantial systems, have supplied the
place of experience--of mature reflection--of reason. Man, petrified
with his fears, intoxicated with the marvellous, stupified with sloth,
surrendered his experience: guided by his credulity, he was unable to
fall back upon it; he became consequently inexperienced; from thence he
gave birth to the most ridiculous opinions, or else adopted all those
vague chimeras, all those idle notions offered to him by men whose
interest it was to continue him in that lamentable state of ignorance.
Thus the human race has continued so long in a state of infancy, because
man has been inattentive to Nature; has neglected her ways,
because he has disdained experience--because he has thrown by his
reason--because he has been enraptured with the marvellous and the
supernatural,--because he has unnecessarily TREMBLED. These are the
reasons there is so much trouble in conducting him from this state of
childhood to that of manhood. He has had nothing but the most trifling
hypotheses, of which he has never dared to examine either the principles
or the proofs, because he has been accustomed to hold them sacred, to
consider them as the most perfect truths, and which he is not permitted
to doubt, even for an instant. His ignorance made him credulous; his
curiosity made him swallow the wonderful: time confirmed him in his
opinions, and he passed his conjectures from race to race for realities;
a tyrannical power maintained him in his notions, because by those alone
could society be enslaved. It was in vain that some faint glimmerings
of Nature occasionally attempted the recall of his reason--that slight
corruscations of experience sometimes threw his darkness into light, the
interest of the few was founded on his enthusiasm; their pre-eminence
depended on his love of the marvellous; their very existence rested on
the firmness of his ignorance; they consequently suffered no opportunity
to escape, of smothering even the transient flame of intelligence.
The many were thus first deceived into credulity, then forced into
submission. At length the whole science of man became a confused mass
of darkness, falsehood, and contradictions, with here and there a feeble
ray of truth, furnished by that Nature, of which he can never entirely
divest himself; because, without his perception, his necessities are
continually bringing him back to her resources.
Let us then, if possible, raise ourselves above these clouds of
prepossession! Let us quit the heavy atmosphere in which we are
enucleated; let us in a more unsullied medium--in a more elastic
current, contemplate the opinions of men, and observe their various
systems. Let us learn to distrust a disordered conception; let us take
that faithful monitor, experience, for our guide; let us consult Nature,
examine her laws, dive into her stores; let us draw from herself, our
ideas of the beings she contains; let us recover our senses, which
interested error has taught us to suspect; let us consult that reason,
which, for the vilest purposes has been so infamously calumniated, so
cruelly dishonoured; let us examine with attention the visible world;
let us try, if it will not enable us to form a supportable judgment of
the invisible territory of the intellectual world: perhaps it may be
found there has been no sufficient reason for distinguishing them--that
it is not without motives, well worthy our enquiry, that two empires
have been separated, which are equally the inheritance of nature.
The universe, that vast assemblage of every thing that exists, presents
only matter and motion: the whole offers to our contemplation, nothing
but an immense, an uninterrupted succession of causes and effects; some
of these causes are known to us, because they either strike immediately
on our senses, or have been brought under their cognizance, by the
examination of long experience; others are unknown to us, because they
act upon us by effects, frequently very remote from their primary cause.
An immense variety of matter, combined under an infinity of forms,
incessantly communicates, unceasingly receives a diversity of impulses.
The different qualities of this matter, its innumerable combinations,
its various methods of action, which are the necessary consequence of
these associations, constitute for man what he calls the ESSENCE of
beings: it is from these varied essences that spring the orders, the
classes, or the systems, which these beings respectively possess, of
which the sum total makes up that which is known by the term _nature_.
Nature, therefore, in its most significant meaning, is the great
whole that results from the collection of matter, under its various
combinations, with that contrariety of motion, which the universe
presents to our view. Nature, in a less extended sense, or considered in
each individual, is the whole that results from its essence; that is
to say, the peculiar qualities, the combination, the impulse, and the
various modes of action, by which it is discriminated from other beings.
It is thus that MAN is, as a whole, or in his nature, the result of
a certain combination of matter, endowed with peculiar properties,
competent to give, capable of receiving, certain impulses, the
arrangement of which is called _organization_; of which the essence is,
to feel, to think, to act, to move, after a manner distinguished from
other beings, with which he can be compared. Man, therefore, ranks in
an order, in a system, in a class by himself, which differs from that of
other animals, in whom we do not perceive those properties of which he
is possessed. The different systems of beings, or if they will, their
_particular natures_, depend on the general system of the great whole,
or that Universal Nature, of which they form a part; to which every
thing that exists is necessarily submitted and attached.
Having described the proper definition that should be applied to the
word NATURE, I must advise the reader, once for all, that whenever in
the course of this work the expression occurs, that "Nature produces
such or such an effect," there is no intention of personifying that
nature which is purely an abstract being; it merely indicates that the
effect spoken of necessarily springs from the peculiar properties of
those beings which compose the mighty macrocosm. When, therefore, it is
said, _Nature demands that man should pursue his own happiness_, it is
to prevent circumlocution--to avoid tautology; it is to be understood,
that it is the property of a being that feels, that thinks, that acts,
to labour to its own happiness; in short, that is called _natural_,
which is conformable to the essence of things, or to the laws, which
Nature prescribes to the beings she contains, in the different orders
they occupy, under the various circumstances through which they are
obliged to pass. Thus health is _natural_ to man in a certain state;
disease is _natural_ to him under other circumstances; dissolution, or
if they will, death, is a _natural_ state for a body, deprived of some
of those things, necessary to maintain the existence of the animal, &c.
By ESSENCE is to be understood, that which constitutes a being, such as
it is; the whole of the properties or qualities by which it acts as it
does. Thus, when it is said, it is the _essence_ of a stone to fall, it
is the same as saying that its descent is the necessary effect of its
gravity--of its density--of the cohesion of its parts--of the elements
of which it is composed. In short, the _essence_ of a being is its
particular, its individual nature.