IMLAC DISCOURSES ON THE NATURE OF THE SOUL.
“WHAT reason,” said the Prince, “can be given why the Egyptians should
thus expensively preserve those carcases which some nations consume with
fire, others lay to mingle with the earth, and all agree to remove from
their sight as soon as decent rites can be performed?”
“The original of ancient customs,” said Imlac, “is commonly unknown, for
the practice often continues when the cause has ceased; and concerning
superstitious ceremonies it is vain to conjecture; for what reason did
not dictate, reason cannot explain. I have long believed that the
practice of embalming arose only from tenderness to the remains of
relations or friends; and to this opinion I am more inclined because it
seems impossible that this care should have been general; had all the
dead been embalmed, their repositories must in time have been more
spacious than the dwellings of the living. I suppose only the rich or
honourable were secured from corruption, and the rest left to the course
of nature.
“But it is commonly supposed that the Egyptians believed the soul to live
as long as the body continued undissolved, and therefore tried this
method of eluding death.”
“Could the wise Egyptians,” said Nekayah, “think so grossly of the soul?
If the soul could once survive its separation, what could it afterwards
receive or suffer from the body?”
“The Egyptians would doubtless think erroneously,” said the astronomer,
“in the darkness of heathenism and the first dawn of philosophy. The
nature of the soul is still disputed amidst all our opportunities of
clearer knowledge; some yet say that it may be material, who,
nevertheless, believe it to be immortal.”
“Some,” answered Imlac, “have indeed said that the soul is material, but
I can scarcely believe that any man has thought it who knew how to think;
for all the conclusions of reason enforce the immateriality of mind, and
all the notices of sense and investigations of science concur to prove
the unconsciousness of matter.
“It was never supposed that cogitation is inherent in matter, or that
every particle is a thinking being. Yet if any part of matter be devoid
of thought, what part can we suppose to think? Matter can differ from
matter only in form, density, bulk, motion, and direction of motion. To
which of these, however varied or combined, can consciousness be annexed?
To be round or square, to be solid or fluid, to be great or little, to be
moved slowly or swiftly, one way or another, are modes of material
existence all equally alien from the nature of cogitation. If matter be
once without thought, it can only be made to think by some new
modification; but all the modifications which it can admit are equally
unconnected with cogitative powers.”
“But the materialists,” said the astronomer, “urge that matter may have
qualities with which we are unacquainted.”
“He who will determine,” returned Imlac, “against that which he knows
because there may be something which he knows not; he that can set
hypothetical possibility against acknowledged certainty, is not to be
admitted among reasonable beings. All that we know of matter is, that
matter is inert, senseless, and lifeless; and if this conviction cannot
he opposed but by referring us to something that we know not, we have all
the evidence that human intellect can admit. If that which is known may
be overruled by that which is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can
arrive at certainty.”
“Yet let us not,” said the astronomer, “too arrogantly limit the
Creator’s power.”
“It is no limitation of Omnipotence,” replied the poet, “to suppose that
one thing is not consistent with another, that the same proposition
cannot be at once true and false, that the same number cannot be even and
odd, that cogitation cannot be conferred on that which is created
incapable of cogitation.”
“I know not,” said Nekayah, “any great use of this question. Does that
immateriality, which in my opinion you have sufficiently proved,
necessarily include eternal duration?”
“Of immateriality,” said Imlac, “our ideas are negative, and therefore
obscure. Immateriality seems to imply a natural power of perpetual
duration as a consequence of exemption from all causes of decay: whatever
perishes is destroyed by the solution of its contexture and separation of
its parts; nor can we conceive how that which has no parts, and therefore
admits no solution, can be naturally corrupted or impaired.”
“I know not,” said Rasselas, “how to conceive anything without extension:
what is extended must have parts, and you allow that whatever has parts
may be destroyed.”
“Consider your own conceptions,” replied Imlac, “and the difficulty will
be less. You will find substance without extension. An ideal form is no
less real than material bulk; yet an ideal form has no extension. It is
no less certain, when you think on a pyramid, that your mind possesses
the idea of a pyramid, than that the pyramid itself is standing. What
space does the idea of a pyramid occupy more than the idea of a grain of
corn? or how can either idea suffer laceration? As is the effect, such
is the cause; as thought, such is the power that thinks, a power
impassive and indiscerptible.”
“But the Being,” said Nekayah, “whom I fear to name, the Being which made
the soul, can destroy it.”
“He surely can destroy it,” answered Imlac, “since, however imperishable,
it receives from a superior nature its power of duration. That it will
not perish by any inherent cause of decay or principle of corruption, may
be shown by philosophy; but philosophy can tell no more. That it will
not be annihilated by Him that made it, we must humbly learn from higher
authority.”
The whole assembly stood awhile silent and collected. “Let us return,”
said Rasselas, “from this scene of mortality. How gloomy would be these
mansions of the dead to him who did not know that he should never die;
that what now acts shall continue its agency, and what now thinks shall
think on for ever. Those that lie here stretched before us, the wise and
the powerful of ancient times, warn us to remember the shortness of our
present state; they were perhaps snatched away while they were busy, like
us, in the _choice of life_.”
“To me,” said the Princess, “the choice of life is become less important;
I hope hereafter to think only on the choice of eternity.”
They then hastened out of the caverns, and under the protection of their
guard returned to Cairo.