never have occurred, if we had bounded our observations to the influence
of our ideas on our determinations, and the influence of those
determinations on our physical being. In short, the laws of attraction
and repulsion are subject to great exceptions; which exceptions may
serve to support the system of the spirituality of the soul. We may be
allowed to say, that there exists a vacuum in the universe, since,
without this vacuum, there could not have been any motion? It is known
that this motion depends on the laws of attraction but how can
attraction act through a vacuum, unless it is by a spiritual force,
which acts without contact, and notwithstanding the absolute
interruption of matter? It is then this force, or its equivalent, that I
may adopt to define the cause of the impressions of which our souls are
susceptible.
Let others explain, in their turn, by what material communication, the
sight of a few immoveable characters, traced on insensible marble,
disturbs my soul. It is very easy to comprehend by what mechanism the
eye distinguishes these characters; but there ends the physical action,
for we cannot attribute to that action, the general power of producing
sensations in the mind, since, perhaps, many other men may consider the
same characters, without receiving any impression.
It is very possible, that our intellectual preceptions have not any
connection with motion, such as we conceive it. Our interior nature,
which we distinguish by the name of immaterial, is probably subject to
laws very different from those which govern nature in general; but as we
are obliged to apply to the mysteries of our souls, those expressions
which serve to delineate or to interpret the phœnomena submitted to our
inspection; these expressions, and their continual use, have insensibly
habituated us to certain opinions, about the causes and developement of
our intellectual faculties. It is thus that, after having used the words
motion, rest, agitation, and action, to discriminate different
affections of our souls, of which we know very little, we have
afterwards assimilated them, foolishly, to our moral nature, to all the
ideas which were represented by these denominations; and even death
itself, of which we have not any clear knowledge, but by the dissolution
of our physical being; death, an image borrowed from things which are
under the inspection of our senses, has not, perhaps, either relation or
analogy with the nature and essence of our spirit; all these are
incomprehensible secrets, not mixt with any thing we are acquainted
with.
We act, in this respect, like men born deaf, who apply to sounds those
terms which they were accustomed to use, to express the sensations the
other senses produced.
I shall only add another observation to the ideas on which I have just
dwelt: perhaps we should never have thought of applying the words which
express action and motion, to all the operations of our souls, if we had
not at first divided our spiritual being into a great number of
dependencies, such as attention, reflection, thought, judgment,
imagination, memory, and foresight; and if afterwards, in order to
render intelligible the variable relations of these abstract parts of
our mind (these parts of a unit which we have taken to pieces, though it
composed that single being ourself) we had not been obliged to have
recourse to some plain expressions, like those of action, motion,
attraction, and repulsion; but this familiar use of these expressions,
in order to explain the accidents of our intellectual system, very much
resembles the use which we make of X in Algebra, to express unknown
terms.
In short, were we to submit the action of our souls to the laws of a
particular movement, forming one of the dependencies of the great one,
we should still have to explain the cause of the consciousness that we
have of this action, which Atheists refuse to nature itself, at the very
moment they make it the God of the Universe. Were reasoning able to
subject all the operations of our mind to the impressions of external
objects, we could not rank under the same laws, that consciousness which
we have of our existence, and of the different faculties of the soul.
This consciousness is not an effect, or the production of any known
force, since it has been always in us independent of any external
object, consequently we cannot investigate it. The conception of the
existence of our souls, is as incomprehensible to us as that of
eternity; what a profound thought, which even our imagination cannot
embrace!
Let us admit, however, for a moment, that all the operations of our
souls are determined by some impulsion, whatever it may be, we shall
still be struck with the absolute difference which exists, according to
our knowledge between the regular movements of matter, and the almost
infinite and unaccountable emotions of our hearts and minds; so variable
and so differently modified, that the attention is lost in the
examination of them. And after having vainly endeavoured to conceive the
union established between our thoughts and exterior objects, we have
still to form an idea of the actions of these thoughts on themselves,
their progression and connection; our mind led astray, lost in such a
meditation, leaves us only a consciousness of our weakness, and we feel,
that there is an intellectual altitude which the human faculties can
never reach.
We distinguish, in a single character which our judgment can decypher,
an absolute difference between soul and matter: we cannot avoid
representing the latter as infinitely divisible, whilst, on the
contrary, all the efforts of our imagination could never divide that
indivisible unit which composes the soul, and which is the sovereign
over our will, thoughts, and all our faculties[5].
But if we examine again, under another appearance, the properties of
matter, we know not how to assimilate to them the emotions of our soul;
for we distinctly feel those emotions, let their number be ever so
numerous, when even they act together and terminate in the same center,
which is that Indivisible Being before alluded to; whereas matter, by an
essential property, cannot, in the same instant be pressed or struck in
several manners, unless it is in parts which have a tendency to
different centres.
There is not then any resemblance between the impressions that our souls
receive, and the various effects which may be attributed to the action
of all the material substances of which we can form any conception: they
are always connected with the idea of space and extent; but that centre,
where all our perceptions meet, that Judge, who dictates laws in the
internal empire, whose revolutions we only know, that last Director of
our will, this Indivisible Being, at the same time our friend and
master, is not to be found in any compounded idea; and this unity so
simple, ought necessarily to convince us, that nothing which is
submitted to the dominion of our senses, can serve as a type of the idea
which we are to form of the soul.
We discover the traces of this truth, when we fix our attention on the
comparisons with which our spiritual unit, our identical self, is
continually occupied: we imagine it seated on a throne, listening, and
examining the various reasons which ought to determine its action; we
see it, like Nero, yielding sometimes to Narcissus, and sometimes to
Burrhus; but at the same time we distinctly perceive all the
counsellors, all the flatterers, all the enemies which surround it; we
never remark but a single master in the midst of the tumult and the
intrigues of this court.
Whilst our soul then is thrown into motion by contemplation, and by the
imperceptible modification of a fugitive idea, as well as by every thing
which is opposed to material action, why should we not suppose that it
is purely intelligent and spiritual? It must be confessed, that
sometimes our corporeal infirmities influence our minds; but this
relation is not a proof of identity, since our body may be an instrument
entrusted to our soul, one of the organs which it is to make a
transitory use of. The continuity of existence, considered abstractedly,
certainly is in the universe a simple and natural state; and the
temporary existence is perhaps the only one which is heterogeneous and
accidental; the soul seems too noble to be assimilated to the latter
state, it may exist in a different manner when joined to a material
substance, but that connection does not make it lose its original
essence.
It is to be acknowledged, that it is through the medium of our senses we
know all the force of our existence; and that they are those parts of
our mixt being which strike us most during a little while; and it is
perhaps by a law of the same kind that we see men, engrossed by a great
passion, entirely strangers to every other moral affection; but, why
should it be contrary to the nature of things, that the soul, once
stripped of its terrestrial cloathing, should be acquainted with the
nature of its existence, and at the same time perceive those truths
which now are obscured by clouds. An innate fire languishes a long time
unknown in a rough stone, that stone is struck, and we see issue out a
splendid light; this is perhaps a faint picture of the state in which
our soul is when death breaks its fetters.
In short, in a matter so obscure every supposition is admissable, which
assures us that the soul is not on earth in a state of enchantment, or
in a kind of interruption of its ordinary existence. All that we see of
the universe is an assemblage of incomprehensible phœnomena; and when we
wish to discover the conclusion, through the aid of the ideas most on a
level with our intelligence, we wander perhaps from truth; since,
according to appearances, it is in the depths of infinity that it
reposes.
I doubt, whether we can allow the authority of those metaphysical
arguments which are made use of to defend the spirituality of the soul
to be decisive; but they are sufficient to repulse the different attacks
of materialists. The most evident opinion to me is, that we are too weak
to comprehend the secret we search for. We have, according to our petty
knowledge, divided the universe into two parts, spirit and matter; but
this division serves only to distinguish the little we know from that
which we have no knowledge of; there is perhaps an infinite gradation
between the different properties which compose motion and life, instinct
and intelligence; we can only express the ideas conceived by our
understandings, and the general words which we make use of, serve only
to detect the vain ambition of our mind; but with respect to the
universe, in considering its immensity, we shall find, that there is
sufficient space for all the shades and modifications we have no idea
of. We confess, that it is the connection between our physical powers
and intellectual faculties, and the action that they seem to have on
each other, which nourishes our doubts and anxieties; but without this
relation, without the appearance of our fall, all would be distinct in
the fate of man, all would be manifest. It is then, because that there
is a shade in the midst of the picture, which continually catches our
attention, that we have need to collect the light of the mind and the
feelings, in order to see in perspective our destiny; and it is from
this motive that we find it necessary, above all, to be penetrated with
the idea of a God, and to search for, in his power and goodness, the
last explication which we want.
There is, in the judgments of men, a contrast which I have often been
struck with. Those people, who, at the sight of the immensity of the
universe, at the view of the wonders in the midst of which they are
placed, fear not to attribute to our intellectual faculties the power of
interpreting and understanding every thing, and even the capacity of
attaining almost to the hidden secrets of our nature; these same people
are nevertheless most eager to strip the soul of its true dignity, and
the most obstinate in refusing it spirituality and duration, and every
thing else which can exalt it.
But happily, these refusals or concessions fix not our fate: the nature
of the soul will always be as unknown as the essence of the Supreme
Being; and it is one of the proofs of its grandeur, to be wrapped up in
the same mysteries which hide from us the universal spirit. But there
are simple ideas and sentiments, which seem to bring along with them
more comfort and hope than metaphysical arguments.
We cannot profoundly meditate on the marvellous attributes of thought;
we cannot attentively contemplate the vast empire which has been
submitted to it, or reflect on the faculty with which it is endowed, of
fixing the past, approaching the future, and bringing into a small
compass the expanded views of nature, and of containing, if I may use
the phrase, in one point the infinity of space, and the immensity of
time; we cannot consider such a wonder, without continually uniting a
sentiment of admiration to the idea of an end worthy of such a grand
conception, worthy of Him whose wisdom we adore. Shall we, however, be
able to discover this end, in the passing breath, in the fleeting
moments which compose life? Shall we be able to discover it in a
succession of phantoms, which seem destined only to trace the progress
of time? Shall we, above all, perceive it in this general system of
destruction? and ought we to annihilate in the same manner the
insensible plant, which perishes without having known life; and the
intelligent man, who every day explores the charms of existence? Let us
not thus degrade our fate and nature; and let us judge and hope better
of that which is unknown. Life, which is a means of improvement, should
not lead to an eternal death; the mind, that prolific source of
knowledge, should not be lost in the dark shades of forgetfulness;
sensibility and all its mild and pure emotions, which so tenderly unite
us to others, and enliven our days, ought not to be dissipated as if it
were the vapour of a dream; conscience, that severe judge was not
intended to deceive us; and piety and virtue are not vainly to elevate
our views towards that model of affection, the object of our love and
adoration. The Supreme Being, to whom all times belong, seems already to
have sealed our union with futurity by endowing us with foresight, and
placing in the recesses of our heart the passionate desire of a longer
duration, and the confused sentiment which it gives of obtaining it.
There are some relations still obscure, some connections between our
moral nature and futurity; and perhaps our wishes, our hopes, are a
sixth sense, a faint sense, if I may be allowed to express myself so, of
which we shall one day experience the satisfaction. Sometimes also I
imagine, that love, the most noble ornament of our nature, love, sublime
enchantment, is a mysterious pledge of the truth of these hopes; for in
disengaging us from ourselves, transporting us beyond the limits of our
being, it seems the first step towards an immortal nature; and in
presenting to us the idea, in offering to us the example of an existence
out of ourselves, it seems to interpret by our feelings that which our
minds cannot comprehend.
In short, and this reflection is the most awful of all, when I see the
mind of man grasp at the knowledge of a God; when I see him, at least,
draw near to such a grand idea; such a sublime degree of elevation
prepares me, in some manner, for the high destiny of the soul; I search
for a proportion between this immense thought and all the interests of
the world, and I discover none; I search for a proportion between these
boundless meditations and the narrow picture of life, and I perceive
none: there is then, I doubt not, some magnificent secret beyond all
that we can discern; some astonishing wonder behind this curtain still
unfurled; on all sides we discover the commencement of it. How imagine,
how resolve the thought, that all which affects and animates us, all
which guides and captivates us, is a series of enchantments, an
assemblage of illusions? The universe and its majestic pomp would then
have been only destined to serve as the theater of a vain
representation; and such a grand idea, so magnificent a conception would
have had for an object a mere dazzling chimera. What would then have
signified that mixture of real beauties and false appearances? What had
signified that concourse of phantoms, which, without design or end,
would be less admirable than a ray of light, destined to enlighten our
abode? In short, what had signified in men that union of sublime
thoughts and deceitful hopes? Guard us from giving credit to such a
supposition! Is it to Him then, whose power has not any limits, that we
dare to attribute the artifices of weakness? Should we have seen every
where order, design, and exactness, as far as our understanding can
reach, and as soon as we are arrived at the utmost boundary of our
faculties, should we stop the views of the Supreme Intelligence, and
imagine that all is finished, because futurity is unknown? Alas! we
endure but a moment, and we presume to know the past and the future! But
grant us only the idea of a God; do not deprive us of our confidence in
Him; it is in relying on that grand truth, that we shall be able to
guard our hopes against all the metaphysical arguments which we are not
immediately prepared to answer.
Would you object, that hope is not sufficient to determine men to the
observance of morality, and to subject them to the sacrifices which the
practice of virtue seems to impose? What then attracts them, in all the
bustle of life, unless it is hope; what is it that renders them greedy
of honour and of fortune, unless it is expectation? And when they obtain
the object of their wishes, they have frequently only the imaginary
advantages hope created. Why then would you ask for a demonstrated
certainty, in order to devote yourself to all the researches which the
human mind can conceive to be the most grand, the most worthy of an
ardent pursuit? On the contrary, the most trifling degree of expectation
should become a motive of encouragement. And what is it, of all our
interests, which could be put in competition with the most fugitive
idea, with the slightest hope of pleasing the Master of the World, and
maintaining the intercourse which seems to be indicated by our natural
sentiments, and by the first perceptions of our minds?
I would wish to go still further, and I would demand, not of all men,
but of some at least, if, were even this life to be their only heritage,
they would think themselves freed from the desire of pleasing the
Sovereign Author of Nature. The moment that is given us to know and
admire Him, would it not still be a blessing? We celebrate the memory of
those princes who have done good to men; are we not to do the same with
Him to whom we are indebted for our existence; to Him who has contrived,
if I may be allowed to say so, the various enjoyments we are so
unwilling to detach ourselves from? Shall we dare, weak and ignorant as
we are, to measure the wisdom, and calculate the power of our
Benefactor, and rashly reproach him for not having done more for us?
This would be the language of ingratitude. But, as I have shown, our
sentiments have not been put to this test; and it is on more liberal
terms that we have been admitted to treat with the Supreme Being: He has
surrounded us with every thing that can encourage our expectations; He
allows us, by contemplation, to attain almost a knowledge of his
perfections; He lets us read them in that collection of glory and
magnificence which the universe displays; He permits us to perceive his
power and goodness, infinity and happiness; and by that succession of
ideas he has guided our wishes and our hopes. How grand is the
contemplation of the Eternal, they who have sensibility can tell! But
this idea should be very early implanted in the human heart, it is
necessary that it should be connected with our first feelings, that it
should rise by degrees, in order to gain strength before men are thrown
into the midst of that world which boasts of being freed from childish
prejudices; left, hurried along by its levity, they follow every day a
new master, and render themselves the slaves of pleasure and vanity.
And that which is to maintain, amongst men, the principles first
inculcated, is public worship, an idea as beautiful as simple, and the
most proper to vivify all that is vague and abstract in reasoning and
instruction: public worship, in assembling men, and in turning them
without public shame to their weaknesses, and in equalising every
individual before the Master of the world, will be, in this point of
view a grand lesson of morality; but this worship, besides, habitually
reminds some of their duty, and is for others a constant source of
consolation; in short, almost all men, astonished and overwhelmed by the
ideas of grandeur and infinity, which the appearance of the universe,
and the exercise of their own thoughts, present to them, aspire to find
repose in the sentiment of adoration which unites them in a more
intimate manner to God, than the developement of their reason ever will.
We should guard ourselves carefully from despising the emotions of
piety, which cannot be separated from its advantages; and philosophers
themselves know not how far they would go, when they try to reduce the
interests of men to the narrow circle of demonstrated truths: that which
we perceive confusedly, is more precious than all we have a certain
knowledge of; that which we anticipate, is of more value than the
blessings scattered round us. Thus, we should be miserably impoverished,
if they could retrench from the various comforts which we shall never
possess, but through the aid of the imagination. However, if we take
this imagination as a guide and encouragement, when we are engaged in
the pursuits of fortune and ambition, and if the wise themselves find
that to be good which serves to nourish our passions, why would you
reject it, when, simply more grand and more sublime in its object, it
becomes the support of our weaknesses, the safeguard of our principles,
and the source of our most interesting consolations?
It is the part of legislators to study these truths, and to direct
towards them the spirit of laws, and the uncertain course of opinions.
How honourable is it for them to be called to form the august alliance
which is to unite happiness with morality, and morality with the
existence of a God!
CHAP. XII.
_That there is a God._
That there is a God! How is it possible to avoid being penetrated with
an awful respect in uttering these words? How reflect on them without
the deepest humility, and even an emotion of surprise, that man, this
weak creature, this atom dispersed in the immensity of space, undertakes
to add some weight to a truth, of which all nature is the splendid
witness? However, if this truth is our supreme good, if we are nothing
without it, how can we banish it from our minds? Does it not constrain
us to dwell continually on the subject? Compared with it, all other
thoughts are insignificant and uninteresting; it gives birth to, and
sustains all the sentiments on which the happiness of an intelligent
creature depends. I confess I tremblingly discussed the different
objections which are employed to destroy our confidence in the existence
of a Supreme Being; I dreaded the melancholy which those arguments
produced; I was afraid to feel the impression of it myself, and thus to
hazard the opinion most dear to my heart, and most essential to my
happiness; it appeared to me, that a few general ideas, supported by
lively feelings, would have been sufficient for my tranquillity; and
without an interest more extended, without the desire of opposing,
according to my powers, a spirit of indifference and false philosophy,
which is every day gaining ground, I should never have stepped beyond my
circle. But, I am far from regretting the part I have taken: I have ran
over, without much trouble, those books where the most pernicious
doctrines are ingeniously disseminated; and have thought that a person,
endowed with common sense, on whom metaphysical subtleties were
obtruded, would resemble those savages who are brought sometimes amongst
us, and who, from the depraved refinement of our morals and manners,
have often recalled us, by some natural reflections, to those simple
principles which we have abandoned, to those ancient truths whose
vestiges are lost.