LXV. Father Spe, when he is speaking of the confessions that have been made by supposed witches and wizards, when put to torture, delivers himself thus; the numbers of lyes they will tell, both of themselves and others, is incredible. All which the judges are desirous they should say is true, they confess to be true; and they own every thing they would have them own of themselves, compelled to it by the violence of the torture; and they do not afterwards dare to retract what they have said, for fear of being tortured again; thus these miserable wretches, go to their deaths attesting a falsehood. Father Spe concludes in this manner, I am certain that what I have said is just and right, and I appeal for the truth of it, to the judge of that supreme tribunal, where all mankind, both quick and dead, will one day be sentenced to rewards and punishments, proportioned to their merits and demerits.
LXVI. I declare that when I first read this account, I found my whole frame pervaded by a deep melancholy sensation, that resembled somewhat like horror mixed with pity. He who gives the relation, is a learned, grave, exemplary, and sound divine, instructed in this case, not by conjectural reasoning, but by certain informations, acquired in the sacred confessional chair, and taken from the mouths of those, who were on the point of being led to execution as guilty people; and this he declared from repeated experience he had had of those matters, during a long course of years. What can be objected that is deserving of any attention, to so conclusive a testimony?
LXVII. The certainty Father Spe had, of the almost invincible force of the torture, to oblige innocent people to confess themselves guilty of crimes they never committed, is very forcibly illustrated, in a vehement declaration to the judges, with which he concludes his Essay. He says to them, why are you so solicitous in searching out, and why do you take so much pains to discover, people who are guilty of witchcraft? There is no necessity for your giving yourselves all this trouble, for if you want to discover more, I can tell you how to furnish yourselves with them, without labour or difficulty; take the first Capuchins, the first Jesuits, and the first men of any other religious order, that you shall meet by chance, and put them to the torture; and if you shall be desirous of making them do so, you will find that there is scarce one of them, who will not confess that he has been guilty of the crime of witchcraft. If any of them should deny it, repeat the torture two or three times, and I will engage that you will bring them to. Pluck out their hair by the roots, exorcise them, and repeat to them the common-place cant that the devil has hardened them; and as if you was convinced this suspicion was just, behave to them, with determined inflexibility, and you will perceive, that there is not one among them, who will refuse to submit. I have pointed out to you already how you may be supplied with an ample stock of sorcerers, but if you want more still, take the prelates of the churches, and all the canons and doctors belonging to them; and by the application of the same means, you will be convinced, that they may be all brought to confess themselves guilty of witchcraft; for people who have been bred up in so delicate a way, will hardly find themselves able to resist the rigours of a torture. But if you are not satisfied with this supply, and should want more still, I would recommend to you, to put one or two of yourselves to the torture, and you will find that you will confess also in the same manner the others have done; and if immediately after this, you were to torture me, you would be satisfied, that I should do the same. And by this mode of proceeding, you may make witches, wizards, and magicians, of all mankind.
LXVIII. I am ready to admit, that so vehement a declamation, should not be made to all judges indifferently, but that it should be addressed only to such as proceeded with the little caution those did whom Father Spe alludes to; although it is certain, that in accusations for witchcraft, there is more danger of innocent people being brought to capital punishment by the torture, than there is by charges of any other nature. Every man of discretion knows, upon what ridiculous grounds, the common people spread reports of folks being guilty of witchcraft, and with what ease the world believe them, and how ready they are to testify to the truth of such reports. In consequence of which, if the accused persons happen to be brought before judges, who, like the rustic vulgar, are filled with the notion or belief, that there are multitudes of witches and wizards, they immediately have recourse to the torture, and innocent people are tormented like delinquents. From whence it follows, that those who are falsely accused, from their inability to resist the pain of the rack, assent to the interrogatory, and against their consciences own themselves guilty. To this number, we may add many others, who own themselves guilty from delusion or infatuation. This delusion is contagious, and multiplies and spreads exceedingly, whenever there prevails a rage for finding out witchcrafts; for the numbers of these delinquents are increased, in all places where there are officious inquisitors after sorcerers, just as the numbers of possessed people are, where there are plenty of persevering and absurd exorcists.
LXIX. But notwithstanding that in such accusations, on account of their being so frequently ill-founded, the hazard of innocence being oppressed by the anguish of the torture becomes greater than in other cases; still the same danger subsists, though not in so great a degree, with respect to all those who are falsely accused of any other serious crimes. I mean, that if any one from want of fortitude, confesses in the torture the crime of witchcraft, which he is quite innocent of, he may in the same manner, and by the same means, be brought to confess himself guilty of a murder, a sacrilege, a robbery, or any other great offence he never committed. Thus the experience of the learned Jesuit, with respect to the fallibility of the torture in the examination into the truth of witchcraft; identifies and proves its fallibility, in the inquiry into the certainty, of whether any other person has been guilty of a crime he stands accused of.
PARADOX VII.
It should be the Duty of Magistrates, to oblige every individual in a state to earn his own living.
LXX. This was one of the laws of the most prudent Solon; and it was so inviolably observed in Athens, that Athenæus tells us, the two philosophers Asclepiades and Menedemus, were convened before the Areopagus, to give an account how they got their living; and they obviated the charge that had been brought against them, of leading an idle life, and having no visible means of subsistence; by proving, that they earned two drachmas every night, by grinding in, or turning a horse-mill; and Herodotus says, that before the days of Solon, this same law had been established in Egypt by King Amasis.
LXXI. There is no doubt, but the same establishment would be useful in all states. Why do I say useful? It would be laudable also, and of the utmost importance. By a careful examination into, and attention to this matter, communities would be freed from the nuisance of great numbers of drones, and poisonous reptiles. There is scarce a populous town or city, where you don’t see great numbers of people, who without any estate or income, and without employing themselves in any honest or useful occupation, live well in their houses, and appear genteelly and handsomely dressed in the streets. And what are the funds by which they support all this? why some of them support themselves, by thefts and robberies; others by the vile practice, of prostituting the beauty of their wives for hire; others by money they borrow of a thousand people, without any intention of ever paying it; others by tricks and cheats of various kinds, with which they impose upon innocent and unguarded people; and indeed, if the mask was to be taken off from all those who are said to live by their ingenuity, it would be found, that almost all of them, live by foul practices and roguery; and the mask would be taken off, by adopting the before proposed examination and enquiry, and by providing, and rigorously executing punishments proportioned to such evils, the body politic, would be purged and cleansed from an infinite number of vicious humours.
PARADOX VIII.
A great part of what is expended in Alms, is not only thrown away, but does mischief.
LXXII. The following sentence of King David’s is a remarkable one; Blessed is he who exercises his attention and his understanding, for the relief of the poor and the needy. Beatus qui intelligit super egenum, et pauperem.—He does not say, blessed is he who to succour the poor, exercises his love, his compassion, or his charity, but blessed is he who exercises his attention or understanding on this object. There is doubtless the appearance of a mystery in this, but the mystery is, that alms, unless distributed with understanding, discretion, and judgment, do no good.
LXXIII. A hand that is precipitate in giving, such a one for example, as Claudian represents that of Probus to have been,
who relieved many poor, but at the same time supported many people in idleness; and such conduct not only supports, but it creates or breeds up many such, for wherever alms are distributed copiously and without discretion, there will be found many people, who without this assistance would betake themselves to work to procure themselves a livelihood, who at present live idly, and omit their own industry, which they are enabled to do, at the expence, and by the profusion of others. The evils that result to a state from such imprudent dispensations, are sufficiently serious; it loses by this means, the work of a great many useful hands, and the numbers of the indolent, vicious, and profligate, are greatly increased by it.
LXXIV. It is said of a man who distributes great quantities of alms, that he gives with both hands; but he should remember, that according to the directions of our Lord and Saviour, he should only give with one; he says, when you dispense alms, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand does: te autem faciente eleemosynam, nesciat sinistra tua quid faciat dextra tua. This implies, that it is with the right hand only that alms should be given. If I am told that I dwell too much on the literal meaning of the word, I answer it was never my intention to do so; for I am inclined to think, there is a profound implied sentiment couched under this description. It is the constant stile of holy writ, to use the expression right hand, to symbolize or define good works, and the expression left hand to signify the contrary; and hence it is, that in many parts of it, when it speaks of the hand of God, it never mentions it in an emphatical manner, without the addition of the adverb right, which is used to convey an idea, that the operations of God are just and holy. Christ then requires, that alms should be given with the right hand, by which expression, we may suppose he meant to signify, that there are good and bad alms, and that he approves the first, and condemns the others; and also to prohibit our giving with both hands, for that this would be proceeding without choice or distinction, and would also confound the good with the bad.
LXXV. I know some divines are of opinion, that we should bellow our charity, and that it is not incumbent on us to examine scrupulously into the necessities of those we bestow it on; but this is no argument why a state should not take proper precautions, to prevent those from receiving the benefit of charitable christian donations, who ought to get their living by their labour, and to exclude all such from being partakers of this benevolence, who surrender themselves up to indolence, and a voluntary and vicious state of poverty.
PARADOX IX.
Death should not be dreaded, on account of what there is simply in the thing itself, or on account of what a person feels at that crisis.
LXXVI. There is a fear of death, which is well founded and salutary; another, which is ill founded and pernicious; and another, which ought to be indifferent, because it is natural, and which only by being carried to too great an excess can become vicious. He fears death reasonably and profitably, who contemplates it as a transition from hence to eternity; he fears it naturally, who considers it as the termination of his life; and he fears it unreasonably, who viewing it simply with regard to what there is in the thing itself, abstracted from all that has preceded, and all that is to follow it, supposes that it will be attended with excessive pain.
LXXVII. This apprehension, although it is very common both among the ignorant and the learned, I look upon to be chimerical and vain, and to have no foundation in truth, therefore, I shall not scruple placing it in the catalogue of vulgar errors. I don’t mean to treat here, of the pains incident to diseases which dispose or lead to death, which without doubt are often very severe; but I only mean to enquire or examine, whether it is probable we feel any, or any very sensible pain, at that moment when the soul is separated from the body. It is generally thought, that at that instant, a more intense pain is felt, than can be produced by all the torments a man is capable of inventing. Authors exaggerate this pain in books, orators in pulpits, and all sorts of people in conversation, and reason upon it in the following manner. If, say they, tearing a nail from the finger, or a finger from the hand, produces a pain so acute, that a man is scarce able to endure it, what must he feel, or how will he be able to bear that which tears the soul from the body? Here the strict union between these parts is described in the most feeling manner, in order to enhance or aggravate the sensation that must be experienced at their separation; and they compare it to the final parting of two fast or fond friends, who have lived long and happily together; or to two integrant parts of an animated body, the division of which is the more painful, the more firmly and intimately they are united together. To heighten this description, they add, that this pain pervades all, and every one of the parts of the human body, both internal and external, because the soul is torn equally from them all alike; which is a universality, that cannot exist in any other pain, because he who is roasted alive, or thrown into a great fire, does not feel pain in his entrails, at the time his external parts begin to scorch: agreeable to this mode of reasoning, they conclude, that the pain which is felt at the moment of death, is enormous, beyond all imagination and description.
LXXVIII. I see this matter in quite a different light, and look upon all this aggravated degree of pain to be imaginary, and consider the reasoning by which the existence of it is attempted to be proved, as fallacious and delusive. It is confounding our ideas of objects, to suppose that the division of integral parts, is analogous to the separation of the soul from the body. The pain in the first instance, consists in the forcibly breaking their connexions, or in the first shocks of the violence, which disposes to their disunion. In the separation of the soul from the body, there is no insertion of material fibres to be torn out by the roots, nor any division to be made of connected substantial parts. From whence then can bodily pain be derived?
LXXIX. The using the same words promiscuously, causes mankind to run into infinite errors, and especially if the application of them is made to things that are fundamentally very different. The expression tearing the soul from the body, fascinates or misleads many people in the business we are now treating of; the phrase should be understood in a figurative sense, and we are apt to construe it in a strict or literal one. In consequence of which, as we know we can’t tear from our bodies, the most minute shred, without feeling great pain, or even extract any foreign substance, that has been violently introduced into, and sticks in any part of our frame, without being liable to the same sensation; led away then and betrayed by the sound of the expression, we are apt to imagine, that something similar happens in the separation of the soul from the body; but the soul is a pure spirit, that can neither adhere, or be made to adhere to any body whatever, nor can it be bound to it by ligatures, nor united with it by fibres, nor fixed to it by any kind of fastening, nor intangled with it by any kind of roots or insertions; and finally, the mode of its union to the body, is incomprehensible to all our philosophy or understanding; and consequently, a description of its disunion cannot be given in the words of any language. There is no doubt, but the term tearing from is metaphorical; and that we might with less impropriety, although we never can with propriety, in describing the separation of the soul from the body, say, that it evaporated off, it was dissipated, or that it had been exhaled, than that it had been torn away; for its disunion from the body, is performed by a movement that is supremely insensible, because on the part of the corporeal substance, there is not the least resistance made to its flying off. Vapours are continually exhaling from every part of our bodies, without giving us the least pain. And why is this? Why it is, because that on account of their thinness and delicacy, they find no opposition in their passage, either from the solids, or the pores of the skin. What obstruction then can you suppose the soul meets with, in its exit from the body, which is infinitely more subtil and thin, than the finest vapours?
LXXX. Let us contemplate the thing in another point of view; and admit that the soul at the time of its being snatched away from the body, caused a violent shock, like that of tearing to pieces all the entrails, and inverting the whole interior organization. I say that even supposing this, the pain that it would occasion would be very slight, or next to nothing; and the reason is, because that in those ultimate stages of life, all the faculties are so extremely languid, and the operations of nature so feeble and remiss, as hardly to be perceived; and the sensation of pain, which is one of those faculties, being in the same state with the others, and the agent which is to stimulate them being equally feeble with the rest; although in the time of vigour, it was capable of exerting a force that had the power of producing great pain, in the present state of things, it is not capable of giving a shock that can excite any very acute sensation, nor if it was, is the subject it is exercised upon capable of perceiving, or being violently affected by it.
LXXXI. I am inclined to think, that a few moments before death, there comes on a kind of half death, or stupor, that is something like a lethargy or swooning, and that in this interval, there remains no kind of recollection or reflexion; and it is probable, that the morning of our life, and the evening of our death, are preceded by a sort of crepuscules or twilight, which brighten and grow clearer as the day of our life comes on, and which darken and grow more obscure, as the total night of our death draws near.
LXXXII. Hitherto we have been treating of natural deaths; but violent deaths, which do not happen till three or four days after receiving the injury that occasions them, may be considered to come under the description of natural ones; as we may suppose those people die in the same way, that those do who are carried off by an acute disease.
LXXXIII. Sudden violent deaths, which are so much dreaded, are the least painful of all; and indeed I was about to say, that people in such cases, hardly feel any pain at all, or at most but an instantaneous one; because the operation of the cause which induces them, takes away in a moment, all sense of feeling. It is well known, that those who have fallen from a great height, and have lain a considerable time afterwards as if they were dead, have, when they came to themselves, affirmed, they did not feel the blow they received upon coming to the ground. The great Chancellor Bacon, tells a story of a gentleman who was very desirous of knowing what people felt who were hanged, and in order to be satisfied about it, determined to make an experiment of the thing on himself. For this purpose, he fastened a rope to the cieling of a room, in which rope he made a noose, and after adjusting it to a proper length, he stood upon a stool, and fixed the nooze round his neck, in the expectation, that after suffering himself to be suspended, he should be able to recover the stool again; but the good gentleman was a little out in his calculation; for if it had not been for a friend who was present, to whom he had communicated what he intended to do, and who cut the rope in time, the experimental philosopher had been as dead as if he had been executed by the hands of the hangman. The account he gave of this matter was, that from the moment his body became suspended by the rope, he lost all sense and recollection; that he had not the least remembrance of the stool, or apprehension of the danger he was in, nor even any sensation of pain, arising from the suffocation that was brought on.
LXXXIV. This, I firmly believe, is what happens to all those who are executed by the hands of justice, whether they are hanged, strangled by the bow-string, or beheaded; and in general, to all those who suffer violent deaths that are as sudden as these are; for they can only feel a momentary or instantaneous pain, and the instant they receive the fatal blow, they are from that time, to the separation of the soul from the body, mere effigies of men, and have no more sensation of pain, than stocks or stones; and notwithstanding, that between the intermediate space of their receiving the blow, or in case they are hanged, of being turned off, they are seen to make some convulsive motions, these motions are merely mechanical, and are by no means governed by the will, or directed by reason.
LXXXV. We will not exempt, as coming under this general rule, even those who are burnt alive. This is a sort of punishment, which strikes all the world with extreme horror, because they generally conceive, that from the instant a person who is executed in this way, is thrown into the fire, to the time of his resigning his last breath, he feels the excruciating torments of the fire. But I am of opinion, that he feels nothing after the first minute that he is committed to the flames; nor can I conceive, that his perception of pain can endure even so long as that.
LXXXVI. I think I have tolerably well proved, what I at first asserted; but as the reader may object, that this paradox ought to have been classed among physical matters, instead of among moral and political ones, I will endeavour now, to remove this objection; which I hope I shall be able to do, notwithstanding the decadence of the faculties, and the want of sensation at the moment of death, are properer objects for philosophical, than moral speculations. I shall begin with observing, that we ought to distinguish between the matter of the proof, and the essence of the subject we are handling. The subject in the present case, consists in a theoretical proposition, that death with respect to what there is simply and merely in the thing itself, ought not to be feared, or that the fear of death, considered in this manner, is not reasonable or well-founded; now thus considered, the question is purely a moral one, because it directly combats an inordinate passion of the soul. The proofs of the truth of the proposition, appertain to philosophy; but this is what we see happen every day with regard to other moral questions. When the question is, whether a marriage should be dissolved on account of imbecility, all the proofs in the trial are purely physical, &c.
LXXXVII. But the question more immediately appertains to morality, on account of the end for which I proposed it, than it does with respect to its own proper matter; for this end is a point of morality of the most serious importance. There is great necessity for banishing this panic terror, and this dismal apprehension of the tormenting pains of death. It is very common to see dying people (and I speak of what I have known and experienced myself) extremely distressed by this idea, not so much on account of the dread of the exquisite pain itself, as on account of the consequences that may result from it. They figure to themselves, that the pains which terminate this mortal life, are so extremely intense, that they will occasion them to lose all patience, and prevent their submitting themselves to the will of Providence with the christian resignation they ought; and are also apprehensive, that it would cause them to break out into furious acts of desperation. This anxiety has such an effect on them, that it prevents the operation of those christian dispositions, that should accompany a man in his last moments, and which are so necessary to promote his dying a good death; and besides this, they even put him in danger of distrusting the Divine Goodness at so critical a period. I have seen many who were in their perfect senses, and who had been people of good and exemplary lives, who have been greatly distressed by this idea;
LXXXVIII. I suppose that sentence of St. Paul’s, Fidelis autem Deus est, qui non patietur vos tentari supra id quod potestis, in English, God is good and just, and will not suffer you to be tried or tempted beyond your strength, would be an excellent antidote for this malady. The thinking otherwise of the Deity, would not be contemplating him, as a most merciful father, nor as a just God, but considering him as a cruel tyrant, who at the moment on which your eternal happiness depends, should afflict you so severely, as to cause you to commit acts of desperation. What faith, and the light of natural reason teaches us, is, that his goodness never permits the rigour of the trial, to exceed the power of the soul to contend with and resist it; and as I observed before, this reflexion is an excellent antidote against the malady we have been speaking of; but with all this, if it is not assisted and enforced by the persuasive eloquence of an able friend, or a good pastoral director, it is apt to lose some of its efficacy, and not to quiet the fluctuations of the mind so thoroughly as could be wished, and especially if not attended to in time; and I therefore think that it would be necessary, whether sick or well, for all people to remain in a firm persuasion, that these excruciating pains in the article of death are imaginary.
Appendix to the foregoing.
LXXXIX. I have sometimes observed, that those who attend on dying people have been much dejected upon finding them in their last moments, make some very irregular and extraordinary motions, and have been afraid and believed that those agitations, had proceeded from some impatience that had seized them. But let them not be uneasy on this account; because it is most likely, that these motions are merely mechanical; and that in case they should not be so, there is no mischief to be apprehended from them; for in that proximate state to death, if people are not deprived of their senses, the use of their reason is so feeble, or so confused, that very little, if any, of that free will can be exercised by them which is necessary to constitute sin, or at least any serious sin; for no intoxicated man, nor any one at the instant he awakes from a profound sleep, can be in a more stunned or stupified state, than a dying person at such a crisis.
XC. Finally, both with respect to the matter of this appendix, as well as with regard to that of the subject of this Essay, I shall proceed to give a last, and most efficacious consolation, against the apprehension, that the extreme pains of death are likely to endanger the loss of people’s souls; for admitting that those pains were real, and as severe as they are represented to be, is there any danger that the dying person who is oppressed by them, should fall into the serious sin of impatience, or that he should incur the guilt of any other mortal crime? To this, I resolutely answer that he could not; for the same reasoning that states the pain to be so insufferably intense, removes all the hazard of sinning, because it must disturb the understanding to such a degree, as to deprive a man of all free will. This is a consequence resulting from all passions that are excessively violent, as is agreed by all philosophers and theologians. Virgil, who had great judgment and penetration in these matters, represents Chorœbus, who had been totally deprived of his senses by grief for the imprisonment of his beloved Cassandra, as divested of all free will or reflexion also, in the following lines:
PARADOX X.
The desire of posthumous fame is vain and futile.
XCI. There is no appetite or craving of man can be more irrational, than that, which is directed to an object he can never taste of or enjoy; and such a one, is the desire of having his name become famous in the world after his death. When a man is dead, every thing here that respects himself dies also; and what advantage can it be of to him after his decease, that all the world burst forth in acclamations and applauses of his great deeds and talents? The smoke of all this incense vanishes in the air, nor can the least particle of it, touch or affect him to whom it is offered. He feels no more of the praises of his virtues, than a statue; nor is he any more sensible of the celebrations of his grandeur, than an edifice that is erected to perpetuate it. If his works were pleasing in the eye of God, and he is in the regions of rest, he may feel the satisfaction of having left a good example to the world; and all that passes out of that sphere, let the celebrations of the world be what they will, can be of no avail to him. He will either despise, or be totally ignorant of the eulogiums that are bestowed on him by mortals. What convenience or what satisfaction, do either Alexander and Cæsar now enjoy, from being applauded through the globe for the two most illustrious warriors of the world? Homer and Virgil, from being celebrated as the two most elegant poets? and Cicero and Demosthenes, from being admired as the two most eloquent orators? They are perhaps entirely ignorant of all that is said of them here; and if they are permitted to know it, it is most likely, that such knowledge tends more to torment than please them. Empedocles was certainly a great mad-man, if, according to what some have said of him, he precipitated himself into the flames of Mount Ætna, in order that the world upon not finding his body, should imagine he had ascended up to heaven, and would worship him as a deity. This philosopher however, as he was a follower of the Pythagorean system, and believed the transmigration of souls, might expect, that by his being placed successively in a variety of bodies, he should hereafter view with great pleasure, the worship and adoration that was paid to him in this world; but what enjoyment of this sort can a man hope for, who believes that when he leaves these regions, he shall never return to them again? And what can it be to such a man, whether he is worshiped or forgotten? Thus the emperor Adrian was much madder than Empedocles, who without believing in the doctrine of transmigration, erected temples and altars, and appointed priests, making provision at the same time for maintaining them, and providing victims to be sacrificed to his infamous little idol Antinous. Of what service could all this be to that disgraced and unfortunate boy? And we may make the same observation, on the apotheosis and ridiculous deification of the Roman Emperors. Vespasian, although he expected this farce after his death, would be played over with respect to him, treated the thing with the scorn it deserved, by saying to those who surrounded him when he was near his end, I feel as if I was going to be converted from a man into a deity.
XCII. That mankind should be desirous of seeing themselves applauded, and their names honoured while living, seems very natural, because they may find a gratification in it; but that they should be anxious for posthumous honours, which they can neither taste or enjoy, seems to bespeak a disordered imagination, and a distempered brain. Ovid paints Sappho, as feeling great satisfaction, at seeing her muse celebrated by all the world.
Thus far he expressed himself very properly, because he spoke in the name of Sappho while she was living, and might be supposed to be gratified by, and pleased with the aromatic fumes of those acclamations. But he reasoned very ill, when speaking of Hercules and Theseus, he reckoned as a balance for the loss of those heroes, the applauses the world would bestow on their memories:
XCIII. The eulogiums of the dead, can only be enjoyed by the living. The relations, the friends, and the country of the deceased, divide among themselves the whole fragrancy of this grateful gale, nor can the least breath of it reach the region, which is inhabited by those who depart hence. There remains to the dead but one happy lot, and that is derived from, and depends on their having died well. Beati mortui, qui in Domino moriuntur.
PARADOX XI.
There is no man of a clear and good understanding who is not a good-intentioned one.
XCIV. I believe that all the mortals in every quarter of the Globe, will be struck with surprize, at hearing me broach this paradox, and will look upon it as one of the greatest chimeras in ethics, that ever entered the head of man; for there is scarce any one of the least observation, who cannot affirm and attest, he has seen and known people of very good capacities, who were very perverse and ill-disposed. But I, in opposition to all this, assert that I never met with such a one; and I not only make this declaration, but declare further, that I think it next to impossible that there should be such a man, and that if by chance such a one should be found, he ought to be considered as a monster.
XCV. But in order that we should not misunderstand or confound things, I think it necessary for me to explain, what I understand by an evil-intentioned man. By an evil-intentioned man, then, I mean such a one in whom those vices reign, which are most pernicious to society, that is to say, malignity of heart, unforgivingness, turbulence or restlessness, and a desire of usurping other peoples property; and in general, all sly and crafty persons should be enumerated in the catalogue of evil-intentioned men, such for example, as are attentive to nothing but their own gratifications and emoluments, and who have not the least concern for, or who are totally indifferent about the good of their neighbour, or the welfare of the public.
XCVI. The deformity, the baseness, and the dissonance from natural reason, there is in a person’s doing a voluntary injury to another, is so strikingly represented to a man of a clear and a sound understanding, that except in here and there an instance, where some violent passion intervenes to disturb and disorder the reason, it seems impossible, that a person should voluntarily commit acts that are directly injurious and offensive to his neighbour. And it may be from this principle, that we have seen some who have been reputed as atheists, who, notwithstanding their erroneous belief that there is no such thing as future rewards and punishments, and that they expect no recompence for their good actions, or chastisement for their bad ones hereafter; as members of human society, have behaved well, or at least have done no civil mischief to it; I mean that they have conducted themselves like quiet peaceable people, and have lived contentedly upon their own patrimonies, or on what they have lawfully acquired, and have shewn themselves averse to all violence and injustice. Such among the antients, was Pliny the elder; and such among those of more modern date, was the Englishman Thomas Hobbes.
XCVII. The genuine and true reason of this is, that the existence of a Supreme Being, although it is most plain and clear, is not with respect to the human understanding, self-evident, or, as the Theologians explain the thing, is not per se nota quo ad nos; but is made infallibly evident, by deductions drawn from other principles; and where a deduction of this sort is absolutely necessary, a person may suspect, that it is very possible now and then some fallacy may creep in. But the deformity of such vicious actions as we have been speaking of, is evident of itself; and whenever such actions are represented to the understanding, it clearly comprehends their baseness, and the operation of them is odious and apparent in the eyes of every man, unless as we observed before, some circumstance intervenes to disturb his reason.
XCVIII. To this it may be urged by way of objection, in the first place, that in order to perceive and be convinced of the turpitude of those actions, there is no necessity for a man to be possessed of a bright understanding, as a middling one, or even one below the middle class, would be sufficient for this purpose; so that this reasoning will prove the turpitude to be plain to every understanding, high, middling, and low, or else that it is evident to neither of them.
XCIX. To this I answer, that although the thing may be known with intire certainty to every one of them, there is a great difference between the knowledge and comprehension of one man, and that of another. Two understandings that are unequal, notwithstanding they may both know, and be thoroughly persuaded of the same truth, may be struck with it very differently; and in proportion as one of these understandings is the most clear, that one will know it more distinctly, more strikingly, and with a more refined degree of penetration; and in proportion as the other is less clear, that other will perceive it less distinctly, and more confusedly. In consequence of this inequality of understandings, objects make a more strong or a more weak impression on the soul, and have more or less influence to excite in it, these, or those affections. The same infinite goodness of God which is known to the blessed, is known with infallible certainty by the worldly also. How then comes it to pass, that the first love him necessarily and intensely, and that we worldly mortals are so luke-warm in our love of him? This is occasioned by no other cause than the following, that although our knowledge of him is evident, that of the blessed is the most clear, and ours the most obscure; and in proportion as the understanding knows a good or an evil with greater clearness, the will is moved with a greater impetus, to love the first, and abhor the last.
C. This may be very opportunely and aptly explained, by the operation of any corporeal sense; for he whose olfactory nerves are very quick, will be more offended with an ill smell, than one in whom that sensation is more languid and remiss; and although this last may be able clearly to distinguish the ill smell, he will be less disgusted at it; nor will it appear so hateful to him; and this happens from no other reason, than that the olfactory perception of the first is very clear, and that of the second rather obstructed or more dull; and although not only the man who has a very quick and delicate ear, but also he who has one that is more obtuse, may evidently perceive the dissonance of three or four voices which are totally discordant; the last will bear it without being much affected, and the other will be almost distracted by it; and this is all derived from the cause above-mentioned.
CI. And it happens just so with regard to intellectual perception. The deformity of vicious actions, which are self-evident, is apparent and clear, not only to men of perspicuous understandings, but to those of the most inferior capacities, provided they are not quite stupid; but by the first perceiving them with a lively clearness, and the others somewhat confusedly, they produce a kind of horror in those who have that clearness of perception, which does not permit their wills to embrace such objects; while those to whom they do not appear so disgusting and unpleasant, may be betrayed into grasping turpitudes, under the disguise of delights and pleasures. But I would not have it understood that I mean to insinuate by what I have said here, that there ever is a suspension, or obstruction of the operation, of every, or any man’s free will.
CII. It may be objected in the second place, that there are entire nations, among whom it cannot be denied, that there are to be found many men of excellent understandings, who hold robbery, deceit, and even cruelty to be lawful, and that consequently, they cannot consider these things as turpitudes, or have a just sense of their baseness. To this I answer, that our assertion with respect to a good understanding, does not allude to one placed in such a situation. The general error of a nation in any matter whatever, is like a dark fog which bewilders people, causes them to mistake their way, and perplexes the clearest understandings. If in early infancy, when the rational faculties are weak, children are familiarized to, and brought up under the influence of deceitful prejudices; and when they come to years of maturity, they are accustomed to reverence a common error as irrefragable authority; if it should happen afterwards, that a ray of light breaks in upon them, which discovers to them the truth, they timidly fly from the elucidation, distrust their own reason and reflexion, and are apt to suspect such elucidation to be a delusion, and to suppose that it would be criminal in them to regard it.
CIII. I answer secondly, that it is not known with any degree of certainty, that men of excellent understandings, who are educated and brought up in those nations we call barbarous, are infected with all the errors that prevail in those nations; and with respect to myself, I am fully persuaded they are not. We know that various eminent men among the Gentiles, in matters of religion, thought very differently from the populace. It is true however, that there were but few of them who had sufficient resolution to speak out, as they for the most part disguised their opinions, from motives of fear or policy. We ought also to admit, that among the barbarous nations of these times, there are still to be found men of this character. Nor is there any necessity for limiting such an opinion within the bounds of mere conjecture; for there are various historical relations, which bear testimony to actions of heroic virtue, that have been lately done by some of the individuals of those very nations, where maxims of inhumanity are prevalent at this day; of which if it was necessary, a long catalogue might be adduced.
CIV. In the third place, it may be objected, that experience teaches us, there is scarce a country or populous city, where you may not find some people of perspicuous understandings, and who, although they are of wayward dispositions and depraved inclinations, are subtil and penetrating. To this I answer resolutely and determinedly, that I defy any man to produce such an instance. I have known and conversed with many of those people, who have been esteemed men of good understanding, and perverse dispositions, but have always found the common opinion of those persons to be extremely erroneous. The vulgar frequently look upon persons of very superficial talents, as men of great understanding; and upon hearing them talk off hand, although there is nothing solid in what they say, and observing in them a readiness at expressing themselves, and more especially if they deliver themselves with confidence, and a magisterial air, most people are apt to give them credit for being men of admirable understandings; when in truth, there is hardly one out of a hundred of them, who can penetrate more than skin-deep into the objects he converses upon. There is another very common deception in this matter, and that is, looking upon cunning people as men of depth or penetration, when they are as palpably different from one another, as light is from darkness. I call those cunning people, who are solely attentive to nothing but their own concerns, and who by all sorts of under-hand ways and means, and by all kinds of little arts and deceits, are endeavouring to promote their own particular interest. Can these be called men of sublime understandings? To do this, requires but little depth or penetration, as all that is necessary to accomplish such ends, is low craft and roguery; and there is hardly any capacity, be it ever so mean, which cannot comprehend and apply such trivial artifices: every one may arrive at doing this; but a noble understanding, discerning the baseness of them, abominates such practices; although the vulgar, to whose bastard dispositions they are better suited, embrace them with eagerness. Dissimulation, so far from requiring an exalted understanding to support and carry it on, requires none at all, for we see some irrational animals who exercise it with great address. The foxes are very expert at it, but that does not in any wise render their nature superior to that of brutes; and I repeat again, that I never knew an understanding that had any thing of the elevated or sublime in its composition, that did not abhor all duplicity and fraud.
CV. If we see this matter in the other extreme point of view, we shall find it liable to great equivocation. It frequently happens, that a man of very pure virtue, who has somewhat of native dryness or bluntness in his composition, appears to those of rude and uncultivated capacities, as a person of a depraved disposition. Those who are zealous lovers of truth and justice, are accustomed, not always to accommodate themselves to those courteous condescensions; by which people acquire popular acceptation; as by attending to the substance of things, they are apt to overlook forms and ceremonies. Words from their mouths, signify what the sound and sense of them express: they confider courteous dissimulation as a treacherous enemy of virtue; and are ignorant of the art of painting vice in counterfeit colours, for the sake of pleasing or flattering any man; but on the contrary, are always careful to describe it so, as that it may appear in its true native shape, and in all its deformity. The more prevalent lying, deceit, and perfidy is, the more they loath and nauseate it, and are observed to be more strict and severe in their reprehensions of it; and besides, they never look smilingly, but upon those in whom they perceive a clean mind. This unpleasing integrity, is regarded by the bulk of the world, as a kind of misanthropy, or malevolence towards the generality of mankind; and the number of those, who busy themselves in painting such men, as impracticable, perverse, and ill-intentioned is infinite; for they are pleasing but to very few, as there are but few who are pleased with them; so that either from the malice of their opponents, or from the want of a proper knowledge of the world in those that are indifferent with respect to their opinions of them, it easily comes to pass, that a man of exalted and sincere virtue, is often looked upon by a whole town, as a person of intentional malignity.
CVI. Whoever is upon his guard not to fall into one of the two beforementioned errors, and has capacity to distinguish true virtue from false, and a clear and good understanding, from a cloudy, crooked, or crafty one, will be convinced as I myself have been convinced, that there never fails to be much virtue lodged in the person, in whom you find a real good and clear understanding. I would not however be understood to insinuate, that all men of great genius and capacity should be saints; for meritorious virtue, or such as entitles a man to inherit eternal life, is the child of grace, and not of nature. Neither would I be understood to say, that all kinds of moral virtues should be resplendent in such a man as I have been describing, but only those, whose opposite vices, at first sight, and without the assistance of any reasoning or reflection, are manifest and apparent; and whose deformity, at a glance, strikes the eye of every beholder; nor would I even be understood to assert so much as this, without some limitation and exception; for every vehement passion during the time it lasts, will make the most prudent man act like a mad one, and the most acute one, like a fool; but abstracted from the intervention of such accidents, it is my firm opinion, that every man of a clear and good understanding, is an honest and a good-intentioned one.