ESSAYS ON SUICIDE, AND THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, ASCRIBED TO THE LATE DAVID HUME, ESQ.
Never before publiſhed.
With REMARKS, intended as an Antidote to the Poiſon contained in theſe Performances, BY THE EDITOR.
TO WHICH IS ADDED, TWO LETTERS ON SUICIDE, FROM ROSSEAU'S ELOISA.
LONDON: Printed for M. SMITH; and ſold by the Bookſellers in Piccadilly, Fleet-ſtreet, and Paternoſter-row.
1783.
(Price 3s. 6d. ſewed.)
[] PREFACE.
[]THESE two Eſſays on Suicide and the Im⯑mortality of the Soul, though not publiſh⯑ed in any edition of his works, are generally attributed to the late ingenious Mr. Hume.
The well-known contempt of this eminent philoſopher for the common convictions of mankind, raiſed an apprehenſion of the con⯑tents from the very title of theſe pieces. But the celebrity of the author's name, renders them, notwithſtanding, in ſome degree objects of great curioſity.
Owing to this circumſtance, a few copies have been clandeſtinely circulated, at a large price, for ſome time, but without any com⯑ment. The very myſtery attending this mode of ſelling them, made them more an ob⯑ject of requeſt than they would otherwiſe have been.
[iv] The preſent publication comes abroad un⯑der no ſuch reſtraint, and poſſeſſes very ſupe⯑rior advantages. The Notes annexed are in⯑tended to expoſe the ſophiſtry contained in the original Eſſays, and may ſhew how little we have to fear from the adverſaries of theſe great truths, from the pitiful figure which e⯑ven Mr. Hume makes in thus violently exhauſt⯑ing his laſt ſtrength in an abortive attempt to traduce or diſcredit them.
The two very maſterly Letters from the E⯑loiſa of Roſſeau on the ſubject of Suicide, have been much celebrated, and we hope will be conſidered as materially increaſing the value of this curious collection.
The admirers of Mr. Hume will be pleaſed with ſeeing the remains of a favourite author reſcued in this manner from that oblivion to which the prejudices of his countrymen had, in all appearance, conſigned them; and even the religious part of mankind have ſome reaſon of triumph from the ſtriking inſtance here gi⯑ven of truth's ſuperiority to error, even when error has all the advantage of an elegant ge⯑nius, and a great literary reputation to recom⯑mend it.
ESSAY I. ON SUICIDE.
ONE conſiderable advantage that ariſes from Philoſophy, conſiſts in the ſovereign antidote which it affords to ſuperſtition and falſe religion. All other remedies againſt that peſtilent diſtemper are vain, or at leaſt uncertain. Plain good ſenſe and the prac⯑tice of the world, which alone ſerve moſt purpoſes of life, are here found ineffectu⯑al: Hiſtory as well as daily experience fur⯑niſh inſtances of men endowed with the [2] ſtrongeſt capacity for buſineſs and affairs, who have all their lives crouched under ſla⯑very to the groſſeſt ſuperſtition. Even gai⯑ety and ſweetneſs of temper, which infuſe a balm into every other wound, afford no remedy to ſo virulent a poiſon; as we may particularly obſerve of the fair ſex, who tho' commonly poſſeſt of theſe rich preſents of nature, feel many of their joys blaſted by this importunate intruder. But when ſound Philoſophy has once gained poſſeſſion of the mind, ſuperſtition is effectually excluded, and one may fairly affirm that her triumph over this enemy is more complete than over moſt of the vices and imperfections incident to human nature. Love or anger, ambition or avarice, have their root in the temper and affections, which the ſoundeſt reaſon is ſcarce ever able fully to correct, but ſuperſtition being founded on falſe opinion, muſt immediately vaniſh when true philoſo⯑phy has inſpired juſter ſentiments of ſupe⯑rior powers. The conteſt is here more e⯑qual between the diſtemper and the medi⯑cine, [3] and nothing can hinder the latter from proving effectual but its being falſe and ſo⯑phiſticated.
IT will here be ſuperfluous to magnify the merits of Philoſophy by diſplaying the pernicious tendency of that vice of which it cures the human mind. (1) The ſuper⯑ſtitious man ſays Tully* is miſerable in every ſcene, in every incident in life; even ſleep itſelf, which baniſhes all other cares of unhappy mortals, affords to him matter of new terror; while he examines his dreams, and finds in thoſe viſions of the night prog⯑noſtications of future calamities. I may add that tho' death alone can put a full period to his miſery, he dares not fly to this refuge, but ſtill prolongs a miſerable exiſtence from a vain fear leſt he offend his Maker, by u⯑ſing the power, with which that beneficent being has endowed him. The preſents of God and nature are raviſhed from us by this [4] cruel enemy, and notwithſtanding that one ſtep would remove us from the regions of pain and ſorrow, her menaces ſtill chain us down to a hated being which ſhe herſelf chiefly contributes to render miſerable.
'TIS obſerved by ſuch as have been re⯑duced by the calamities of life to the neceſ⯑ſity of employing this fatal remedy, that if the unſeaſonable care of their friends de⯑prive them of that ſpecies of Death which they propoſed to themſelves, they ſeldom venture upon any other, or can ſummon up ſo much reſolution a ſecond time as to exe⯑cute their purpoſe. So great is our horror of death, that when it preſents itſelf under any form, beſides that to which a man has endeavoured to reconcile his imagination, it acquires new terrors and overcomes his feeble courage: But when the menaces of ſuperſtition are joined to this natural timidity, no wonder it quite deprives men of all power over their lives, ſince even many pleaſures and enjoyments, [5] to which we are carried by a ſtrong propen⯑ſity, are torn from us by this inhuman ty⯑rant. Let us here endeavour to reſtore men to their native liberty, by examining all the common arguments againſt Suicide, and ſhewing that that action may be free from every imputation of guilt or blame, accord⯑ing to the ſentiments of all the antient phi⯑loſophers. (2)
IF Suicide be criminal, it muſt be a tranſgreſſion of our duty either to God, our neighbour, or ourſelves.—To prove that ſuicide is no tranſgreſſion of our duty to God, the following conſiderations may perhaps ſuffice. In order to govern the material world, the almighty Creator has eſtabliſhed general and immutable laws, by which all bodies, from the greateſt planet to the ſmalleſt particle of matter, are maintained in their proper ſphere and func⯑tion. To govern the animal world, he has endowed all living creatures with bodi⯑ly and mental powers; with ſenſes, paſ⯑ſions, [6] appetites, memory, and judgment, by which they are impelled or regulated in that courſe of life to which they are deſ⯑tined. Theſe two diſtinct principles of the material and animal world, continually encroach upon each other, and mutually re⯑tard or forward each others operation. The powers of men and of all other animals are reſtrained and directed by the nature and qualities of the ſurrounding bodies, and the modifications and actions of theſe bo⯑dies are inceſſantly altered by the operation of all animals. Man is ſtopt by rivers in his paſſage over the ſurface of the earth; and rivers, when properly directed, lend their force to the motion of machines, which ſerve to the uſe of man. But tho' the provinces of the material and animal powers are not kept entirely ſeperate, there reſults from thence no diſcord or diſorder in the creation; on the contrary, from the mixture, union, and contraſt of all the va⯑rious powers of inanimate bodies and liv⯑ing creatures, ariſes that ſympathy, har⯑mony, [7] and proportion, which affords the ſureſt argument of ſupreme wiſdom. The providence of the Deity appears not imme⯑diately in any operation, but governs every thing by thoſe general and immutable laws, which have been eſtabliſhed from the beginning of time. All events, in one ſenſe, may be pronounced the action of the Almighty, they all proceed from thoſe powers with which he has endowed his creatures. A houſe which falls by its own weight, is not brought to ruin by his providence, more than one deſtroyed by the hands of men; nor are the human fa⯑culties leſs his workmanſhip, than the laws of motion and gravitation. When the paſſions play, when the judgment dictates, when the limbs obey; this is all the opera⯑tion of God, and upon theſe animate prin⯑ciples, as well as upon the inanimate, has he eſtabliſhed the goverment of the univerſe. Every event is alike important in the eyes of that infinite being, who takes in at one glance the moſt diſtant regions of ſpace, and [8] remoteſt periods of time. There is no e⯑vent, however important to us, which he has exempted from the general laws that govern the univerſe, or which he has pecu⯑liarly reſerved for his own immediate ac⯑tion and operation. The revolution of ſtates and empires depends upon the ſmalleſt ca⯑price or paſſion of ſingle men; and the lives of men are ſhortened or extended by the ſmalleſt accident of air or diet, ſun⯑ſhine or tempeſt. Nature ſtill conti⯑nues her progreſs and operation; and if general laws be ever broke by par⯑ticular volitions of the Deity, 'tis after a manner which entirely eſcapes human ob⯑ſervation. As on the one hand, the ele⯑ments and other inanimate parts of the cre⯑ation carry on their action without regard to the particular intereſt and ſituation of men; ſo men are entruſted to their own judgment and diſcretion in the various ſhocks of matter, and may employ every fa⯑culty with which they are endowed, in or⯑der to provide for their eaſe, happineſs, or [9] preſervation. What is the meaning then of that principle, that a man who tired of life, and hunted by pain and miſery, brave⯑ly overcomes all the natural terrors of death, and makes his eſcape from this cru⯑el ſcene: that ſuch a man I ſay, has incur⯑red the indignation of his Creator by en⯑croaching on the office of divine providence, and diſturbing the order of the univerſe? ſhall we aſſert that the Almighty has reſer⯑ved to himſelf in any peculiar manner the diſpoſal of the lives of men, and has not ſubmitted that event, in common with others, to the general laws by which the univerſe is governed? This is plainly ſalſe; the lives of men depend upon the ſame laws as the lives of all other animals; and theſe are ſubjected to the general laws of matter and motion. The fall of a tower, or the infuſion of a poiſon, will deſtroy a man equally with the meaneſt creature; an in⯑undation ſweeps away every thing with⯑out diſtinction that comes within the reach of its fury. Since therefore the lives of men [10] are for ever dependant on the general laws of matter and motion, is a man's diſpoſing of his life criminal, becauſe in every caſe it is criminal to encroach upon theſe laws, or diſturb their operation? But this ſeems abſurd; all animals are entruſted to their own prudence and ſkill for their conduct in the world, and have full authority as far as their power extends, to alter all the operati⯑ons of nature. Without the excerciſe of this authority they could not ſubſiſt a moment; every action, every motion of a man, inno⯑vates on the order of ſome parts of matter, and diverts from their ordinary courſe the general laws of motion. Putting toge⯑ther, therefore, theſe concluſions, we find that human life depends upon the general laws of matter and motion, and that it is no encroachment on the office of provi⯑dence to diſturb or alter theſe general laws: Has not every one, of conſequence, the free diſpoſal of his own life? And may he not lawfully employ that power with which nature has endowed him? In order [11] to deſtroy the evidence of this concluſion, we muſt ſhew a reaſon why this particular caſe is excepted; is it becauſe human life is of ſuch great importance, that 'tis a pre⯑ſumption for human prudence to diſpoſe of it? But the life of a man is of no greater importance to the univerſe than that of an oyſter. And were it of ever ſo great im⯑portance, the order of human nature has actually ſubmitted it to human prudence, and reduced us to a neceſſity, in every in⯑cident, of determining concerning it.—Were the diſpoſal of human life ſo much reſerved as the peculiar province of the Almighty, that it were an encroachment on his right, for men to diſpoſe of their own lives; it would be equally criminal to act for the preſervation of life as for its deſtruc⯑tion. If I turn aſide a ſtone which is fal⯑ling upon my head, I diſturb the courſe of nature, and I invade the peculiar province of the Almighty, by lengthening out my life beyond the period which by the gene⯑ral laws of matter and motion he had aſſign⯑ed it. (3)
[12] A hair, a fly, an inſect is able to deſtroy this mighty being whoſe life is of ſuch im⯑portance. Is it an abſurdity to ſuppoſe that human prudence may lawfully diſpoſe of what depends on ſuch inſignificant cauſes? It would be no crime in me to di⯑vert the Nile or Danube from its courſe, were I able to effect ſuch purpoſes. Where then is the crime of turning a few ounces of blood from their natural channel?—Do you imagine that I repine at Providence or curſe my creation, becauſe I go out of life, and put a period to a being, which, were it to continue, would render me miſe⯑rable? Far be ſuch ſentiments from me; I am only convinced of a matter of fact, which you yourſelf acknowledge poſſible, that human life may be unhappy; and that my exiſtence, if further prolonged, would become ineligible; but I thank Provi⯑dence, both for the good which I have al⯑ready enjoyed, and for the power with which I am endowed of eſcaping the ill that [13] threatens me.* To you it belongs to repine at providence, who fooliſhly imagine that you have no ſuch power, and who muſt ſtill prolong a hated life, tho' loaded with pain and ſickneſs, with ſhame and poverty—Do not you teach, that when any ill befals me, tho' by the malice of my enemies, I ought to be reſigned to providence, and that the actions of men are the operations of the Almighty as much as the actions of inanimate beings? When I fall upon my own ſword, therefore, I receive my death equally from the hands of the Deity as if it had proceeded from a lion, a precipice, or a fever. The ſubmiſſion which you re⯑quire to providence, in every calamity that befals me, excludes not human ſkill and in⯑duſtry, if poſſible by their means I can a⯑void or eſcape the calamity: And why may I not employ one remedy as well as another?—If my life be not my own, it were criminal for me to put it in danger, as [14] well as to diſpoſe of it; nor could one man deſerve the appellation of hero, whom glory or friendſhip tranſports into the great⯑eſt dangers, and another merit the reproach of wretch or miſcreant who puts a period to his life, from the ſame or like motives.—There is no being, which poſſeſſes any power or faculty, that it receives not from its Creator, nor is there any one, which by ever ſo irregular an action can encroach upon the plan of his providence, or diſor⯑der the univerſe. Its operations are his works equally with that chain of events which it invades, and which ever principle prevails, we may for that very reaſon con⯑clude it to be moſt favoured by him. Be it animate, or inanimate, rational, or irra⯑tional, 'tis all a caſe: its power is ſtill de⯑rived from the ſupreme Creator, and is a⯑like comprehended in the order of his pro⯑vidence. When the horror of pain pre⯑vails over the love of life; when a volun⯑tary action anticipates the effects of blind cauſes, 'tis only in conſequence of thoſe [15] powers and principles which he has im⯑planted in his creatures. Divine provi⯑dence is ſtill inviolate, and placed far be⯑yond the reach of human injuries. 'Tis impious ſays the old Roman ſuperſtition* to divert rivers from their courſe, or invade the prerogatives of nature: 'Tis im⯑pious ſays the French ſuperſtition to ino⯑culate for the ſmall-pox, or uſurp the buſi⯑neſs of providence by voluntarily produc⯑ing diſtempers and maladies. 'Tis im⯑pious ſays the modern European ſuperſti⯑tion, to put a period to our own life, and thereby rebel againſt our Creator; and why not impious, ſay I, to build houſes, culti⯑vate the ground, or ſail upon the ocean? In all theſe actions we employ our powers of mind and body, to produce ſome innova⯑tion in the courſe of nature; and in none of them do we any more. They are all of them therefore equally innocent, or equal⯑ly criminal. But you are placed by provi⯑dence, like a centinal, in a particular ſtation, [16] and when you deſert it without being re⯑called, you are equally guilty of rebellion againſt your almighty ſovereign, and have incurred his diſpleaſure.—I aſk, why do you conclude that providence has placed me in this ſtation? for my part I find that I owe my birth to a long chain of cauſes, of which many depended upon voluntary actions of men. But providence guided all theſe cauſes, and nothing hap⯑pens in the univerſe without its conſent and co-operation. If ſo, then neither does my death, however voluntary, happen without its conſent; and whenever pain or ſorrow ſo far overcome my patience, as to make me tired of life, I may conclude that I am recalled from my ſtation in the cleareſt and moſt expreſs terms. 'Tis providence ſurely that has placed me at this preſent in this chamber: But may I not leave it when I think pro⯑per, without being liable to the imputation of having deſerted my poſt or ſtation? When I ſhall be dead, the principles of [17] which I am compoſed will ſtill perform their part in the univerſe, and will be equally uſeful in the grand fabrick, as when they compoſed this individual creature. The difference to the whole will be no greater than betwixt my being in a chamber and in the open air. The one change is of more importance to me than the other; but not more ſo to the univerſe.
—'TIS a kind of blaſphemy to imagine that any created being can diſturb the or⯑der of the world, or invade the buſineſs of Providence! it ſuppoſes, that that being poſſeſſes powers and faculties, which it received not from its creator, and which are not ſubordinate to his government and authority. A man may diſturb ſociety no doubt, and thereby incur the diſplea⯑ſure of the Almighty: But the government of the world is placed far beyond his reach and violence. And how does it appear that the Almighty is diſpleaſed with thoſe actions that diſturb ſociety? By the prin⯑ciples [18] which he has implanted in human nature, and which inſpire us with a ſen⯑timent of remorſe if we ourſelves have been guilty of ſuch actions, and with that of blame and diſapprobation, if we ever ob⯑ſerve them in others:—Let us now exa⯑mine, according to the method propoſed, whether Suicide be of this kind of actions, and be a breach of our duty to our neigh⯑bour and to ſociety.
A MAN who retires from life does no harm to ſociety: He only ceaſes to do good; which, if it is an injury, is of the loweſt kind.—All our obligations to do good to ſociety ſeem to imply ſomething reciprocal. I receive the benefits of ſoci⯑ety, and therefore ought to promote its in⯑tereſts; but when I withdraw myſelf altoge⯑ther from ſociety, can I be bound any lon⯑ger? But allowing that our obligations to do good were perpetual, they have certainly ſome bounds; I am not obliged to do a ſmall good to ſociety at the expence of a [19] great harm to myſelf; why then ſhould I prolong a miſerable exiſtence, becauſe of ſome frivolous advantage which the public may perhaps receive from me? If upon ac⯑count of age and infirmities, I may lawful⯑ly reſign any office, and employ my time al⯑together in fencing againſt theſe calamities, and alleviating, as much as poſſible, the miſeries of my future life: why may I not cut ſhort theſe miſeries at once by an action which is no more prejudicial to ſociety?—But ſuppoſe that it is no lon⯑ger in my power to promote the intereſt of ſociety, ſuppoſe that I am a burden to it, ſuppoſe that my life hinders ſome perſon from being much more uſeful to ſociety. In ſuch caſes, my reſignation of life muſt not only be innocent, but laudable. And moſt people who lie under any temptation to abandon exiſtence, are in ſome ſuch ſi⯑tuation; thoſe who have health, or pow⯑er, or authority, have commonly better reaſon to be in humour with the world. (4)
[20] A MAN is engaged in a conſpiracy for the public intereſt; is ſeized upon ſuſpi⯑cion; is threatened with the rack; and knows from his own weakneſs that the ſe⯑cret will be extorted from him: Could ſuch a one conſult the public intereſt bet⯑ter than by putting a quick period to a miſerable life? This was the caſe of the famous and brave Strozi of Florence.—Again, ſuppoſe a malefactor is juſtly con⯑demned to a ſhameful death, can any rea⯑ſon be imagined, why he may not antici⯑pate his puniſhment, and ſave himſelf all the anguiſh of thinking on its dreadful ap⯑proaches? He invades the buſineſs of pro⯑vidence no more than the magiſtrate did, who ordered his execution; and his vo⯑luntary death is equally advantageous to ſo⯑ciety, by ridding it of a pernicious mem⯑ber.
THAT Suicide may often be conſiſtent with intereſt and with our duty to ourſelves, no one can queſtion, who allows that age, [21] ſickneſs, or misfortune, may render life a burthen, and make it worſe even than an⯑nihilation. I believe that no man ever threw away life, while it was worth keeping. For ſuch is our natural horror of death, that ſmall motives will never be able to reconcile us to it; and though perhaps the ſituation of a man's health or fortune did not ſeem to require this remedy, we may at leaſt be aſſured that any one who, without apparent reaſon, has had recourſe to it, was curſt with ſuch an incurable depravity or gloomineſs of temper as muſt poiſon all en⯑joyment, and render him equally miſera⯑ble as if he had been loaded with the moſt grievous misfortunes.—If ſuicide be ſuppo⯑ſed a crime, 'tis only cowardice can impel us to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage ſhould engage us to rid our⯑ſelves at once of exiſtence, when it becomes a burthen. 'Tis the only way that we can then be uſeful to ſociety, by ſetting an ex⯑ample, which if imitated, would preſerve to every one his chance for happineſs in life, [22] and would effectually free him from all danger of miſery*.
ESSAY II. ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
[]BY the mere light of reaſon it ſeems difficult to prove the Immortality of the Soul; the arguments for it are commonly derived either from metaphyſical topics, or moral or phyſical. But in reality 'tis the Goſpel and the Goſpel alone, that has brought life and immortality to light.
I. METAPHYSICAL topics ſuppoſe that the ſoul is immaterial, and that 'tis im⯑poſſible [24] for thought to belong to a material ſubſtance.—(1) But juſt metaphyſics teach us that the notion of ſubſtance is wholly confuſed and imper⯑fect, and that we have no other idea of any ſubſtance, than as an aggregate of parti⯑cular qualities, inhering in an unknown ſomething. Matter, therefore, and ſpirit, are at bottom equally unknown, and we cannot determine what qualities inhere in the one or in the other. (2) They like⯑wiſe teach us that nothing can be decided a priori concerning any cauſe or effect, and that experience being the only ſource of our judgments of this nature, we cannot know from any other principle, whether matter, by its ſtructure or arrangement, may not be the cauſe of thought. Abſtract rea⯑ſonings cannot decide any queſtion of fact or exiſtence.—But admitting a ſpiritual ſubſtance to be diſperſed throughout the u⯑niverſe, like the etherial fire of the Stoics, and to be the only inherent ſubject of thought, we have reaſon to conclude [25] from analogy that nature uſes it after the manner ſhe does the other ſubſtance, mat⯑ter. She employs it as a kind of paſte or clay; modifies it into a variety of forms and exiſtences; diſſolves after a time each modification, and from its ſubſtance erects a new form. As the ſame material ſub⯑ſtance may ſucceſſively compoſe the bodies of all animals, the ſame ſpiritual ſub⯑ſtance may compoſe their minds: Their conſciouſneſs, or that ſyſtem of thought which they formed during life, may be con⯑tinually diſſolved by death. And nothing intereſts them in the new modification. The moſt poſitive aſſertors of the mortality of the ſoul, never denied the immortality of its ſuſtance. And that an immaterial ſubſtance, as well as a material, may loſe its memory or conſciouſneſs, appears in part from experience, if the ſoul be immateri⯑al.—Reaſoning from the common courſe of nature, and without ſuppoſing any new interpoſition of the ſupreme cauſe, which ought always to be excluded from philoſo⯑phy, [26] what is incorruptible muſt alſo be in⯑generable. The Soul therefore if immor⯑tal, exiſted before our birth; and if the former exiſtence no ways concerned us, neither will the latter.—Animals undoubt⯑edly feel, think, love, hate, will, and even reaſon, tho' in a more imperfect manner than men; are their ſouls alſo immaterial and immortal? (3)
II. LET us now conſider the moral argu⯑ments, chiefly thoſe derived from the juſ⯑tice of God, which is ſuppoſed to be farther intereſted in the farther puniſhment of the vicious and reward of the virtuous.—But theſe arguments are grounded on the ſup⯑poſition that God has attributes beyond what he has exerted in this univerſe, with which alone we are acquainted. Whence do we infer the exiſtence of theſe at⯑tributes?—'Tis very ſafe for us to af⯑firm, that whatever we know the Deity to have actually done, is beſt; but 'tis very dangerous to affirm, that he muſt always do [27] what to us ſeems beſt. In how many in⯑ſtances would this reaſoning fail us with regard to the preſent world?—But if any purpoſe of nature be clear, we may affirm, that the whole ſcope and intention of man's creation, ſo far as we can judge by natural reaſon, is limited to the preſent life. With how weak a concern from the original in⯑herent ſtructure of the mind and paſſions, does he ever look farther? What compa⯑riſon either for ſteadineſs or efficacy, be⯑twixt ſo floating an idea, and the moſt doubt⯑ful perſuaſion of any matter of fact that oc⯑curs in common life. There ariſe indeed in ſome minds ſome unaccountable terrors with regard to futurity; but theſe would quickly vaniſh were they not artificially ſoſtered by precept and education. And thoſe who foſter them, what is their motive? Only to gain a livelihood, and to acquire power and riches in this world. Their ve⯑ry zeal and induſtry therefore is an argu⯑gument againſt them.
[28] WHAT cruelty, what iniquity, what in⯑juſtice in nature, to confine all our concern, as well as all our knowledge, to the preſent life, if there be another ſcene ſtill waiting us, of infinitely greater conſequence? Ought this barbarous deceit to be aſcribed to a beneficent and wiſe being?—Ob⯑ſerve with what exact proportion the taſk to be performed and the performing pow⯑ers are adjuſted throughout all nature. If the reaſon of man gives him great ſuperio⯑rity above other animals, his neceſſities are proportionably multiplied upon him; his whole time, his whole capacity, activity, courage, and paſſion, find ſuffici⯑ent employment in fencing againſt the mi⯑ſeries of his preſent condition, and fre⯑quently, nay almoſt always are too ſlender for the buſineſs aſſigned them.—A pair of ſhoes perhaps was never yet wrought to the higheſt degree of perfection which that co⯑modity is capable of attaining. Yet it is neceſſary, at leaſt very uſeful, that there ſhould be ſome politicians and moraliſts, [29] even ſome geometers, poets, and philoſo⯑phers among mankind. The powers of men are no more ſuperior to their wants, conſidered merely in this life, than thoſe of foxes and hares are, compared to their wants and to their period of exiſtence. The inference from parity of reaſon is therefore obvious.—
ON the theory of the Soul's mortality, the inferiority of women's capacity is eaſily ac⯑counted for. Their domeſtic life requires no higher faculties, either of mind or body. This circumſtance vaniſhes and becomes ab⯑ſolutely inſignificant, on the religious the⯑ory: the one ſex has an equal taſk to per⯑form as the other; their powers of reaſon and reſolution ought alſo to have been e⯑qual, and both of them infinitely greater than at preſent. As every effect implies a cauſe, and that another, till we reach the firſt cauſe of all, which is the Deity; every thing that happens is ordained by him, and nothing can be the object of his puniſh⯑ment or vengeance.—By what rule are pu⯑niſhments [30] and rewards diſtributed? What is the divine ſtandard of merit and demerit? Shall we ſuppoſe that human ſentiments have place in the Deity? How bold that hypotheſis. We have no conception of any other ſentiments.—According to hu⯑man ſentiments, ſenſe, courage, good man⯑ners, induſtry, prudence, genius, &c. are eſſential parts of perſonal merits. Shall we therefore erect an elyſium for poets and heroes like that of the antient mythology? Why confine all rewards to one ſpecies of virtue? Puniſhment, without any proper end or purpoſe, is inconſiſtent with our ideas of goodneſs and juſtice, and no end can be ſerved by it after the whole ſcene is cloſed. Puniſhment, according to our con⯑ception, ſhould bear ſome proportion to the offence. Why then eternal puniſhment for the temporary offences of ſo frail a creature as man? Can any one approve of Alex⯑der's rage, who intended to extirminate a whole nation becauſe they had ſeized his favorite horſe Bucephalus?*
[31] HEAVEN and Hell ſuppoſe two diſtinct ſpecies of men, the good and the bad; but the greateſt part of mankind float betwixt vice and virtue.—Were one to go round the world with an intention of giving a good ſupper to the righteous, and a ſound drubbing to the wicked, he would frequent⯑ly be embarraſſed in his choice, and would find that the merits and the demerits of moſt men and women ſcarcely amount to the va⯑lue of either.—To ſuppoſe meaſures of ap⯑probation and blame different from the hu⯑man confounds every thing. Whence do we learn that there is ſuch a thing as moral diſ⯑tinctions, but from our own ſentiments?—What man who has not met with perſo⯑nal provacation (or what good-natured man who has) could inflict on crimes, from the ſenſe of blame alone, even the common, le⯑gal, frivolous puniſhments? And does a⯑ny thing ſteel the breaſt of judges and ju⯑ries againſt the ſentiments of humanity but reflection on neceſſity and public intereſt? [32] By the Roman law thoſe who had been guil⯑ty of parricide and confeſſed their crime, were put into a ſack alone with an ape, a dog, and a ſerpent, and thrown into the ri⯑ver. Death alone was the puniſhment of thoſe whoſe who denied their guilt, how⯑ever fully proved. A criminal was tried before Auguſtus, and condemned after a full conviction, but the humane emperor, when he put the laſt interrogatory, gave it ſuch a turn as to lead the wretch into a de⯑nial of his guilt. ‘"You ſurely (ſaid the prince) did not kill your father."’ * This lenity ſuits our natural ideas of right even towards the greateſt of all criminals, and even though it prevents ſo inconſidera⯑ble a ſufference. Nay even the moſt bigot⯑ted prieſt would naturally without reflecti⯑on approve of it, provided the crime was not hereſy or infidelity; for as theſe crimes hurt himſelf in his temporal intereſt and ad⯑vantages, perhaps he may not be altogether ſo [33] indulgent to them. The chief ſcource of moral ideas is the reflection on the intereſt of human ſociety. Ought theſe intereſts, ſo ſhort, ſo frivolous, to be guarded by pu⯑niſhments eternal and infinite? The dam⯑nation of one man is an infinitely great⯑er evil in the univerſe, than the ſubver⯑ſion of a thouſand millions of kingdoms. Nature has rendered human infancy pecu⯑liarly frail and mortal, as it were on purpoſe to refute the notion of a probationary ſtate; the half of mankind die before they are rational creatures.
III. THE Phyſical arguments from the a⯑nalogy of nature are ſtrong for the morta⯑lity of the ſoul, and are really the only phi⯑loſophical arguments which ought to be ad⯑mitted with regard to this queſtion, or in⯑deed any queſtion of fact.—Where any two objects are ſo cloſely connected that all al⯑terations which we have ever ſeen in the one, are attended with proportionable alter⯑ations in the other; we ought to conclude [34] by all rules of analogy, that, when there are ſtill greater alterations produced in the former, and it is totally diſſolved, there fol⯑lows a total diſſolution of the latter.—Sleep, a very ſmall effect on the body, is attended with a temporary extinction, at leaſt a great confuſion in the ſoul.—The weakneſs of the body and that of the mind in infan⯑cy are exactly proportioned, their vigour in manhood, their ſympathetic diſorder in ſickneſs; their common gradual decay in old age. The ſtep further ſeems unavoidable; their common diſſolution in death. The laſt ſymptoms which the mind diſcovers are diſorder, weakneſs, inſenſibility, and ſtupi⯑dity, the fore-runners of its annihilation. The farther progreſs of the ſame cauſes en⯑creaſing, the ſame effects totally extinguiſh it. Judging by the uſual analogy of na⯑ture, no form can continue when transfer⯑red to a condition of life very different from the original one, in which it was pla⯑ced. Trees periſh in the water, fiſhes in the air, animals in the earth. Even ſo ſmall a difference as that of climate is of⯑ten [35] fatal. What reaſon then to imagine, that an immenſe alteration, ſuch as is made on the ſoul by the diſſolution of its body and all its organs of thought and ſenſation, can be effected without the diſſolution of the whole? Every thing is in common be⯑twixt ſoul and body. The organs of the one are all of them the organs of the other. The exiſtence therefore of the one muſt be dependant on that of the other.—The ſouls of animals are allowed to be mortal; and theſe bear ſo near a reſemblance to the ſouls of men, that the analogy from one to the other forms a very ſtrong argument. Their bodies are not more reſembling; yet no one rejects the argument drawn from compara⯑tive anatomy. The Metempſychoſis is there⯑fore the only ſyſtem of this kind that philo⯑ſophy can hearken to. (4)
NOTHING in this world is perpetual, every thing however ſeemingly firm is in conti⯑nual flux and change, the world itſelf gives ſymptoms of frailty and diſſolution. How contrary to analogy, therefore, to imagine [36] that one ſingle form, ſeemingly the fraileſt of any, and ſubject to the greateſt diſorders, is immortal and indiſſoluble? (5) What da⯑ring theory is that! how lightly, not to ſay how raſhly entertained! How to diſpoſe of the infinite number of poſthumous exiſ⯑tences ought alſo to embarraſs the religious theory. Every planet in every ſolar ſyſtem we are at liberty to imagine peopled with in⯑telligent mortal beings, at leaſt we can fix on no other ſuppoſition. For theſe then a new univerſe muſt every generation be created beyond the bounds of the preſent u⯑niverſe, or one muſt have been created at firſt ſo prodigiouſly wiſe as to admit of this continual influx of beings. (6) Ought ſuch bold ſuppoſitions to be received by a⯑ny philoſophy, and that merely on the pre⯑text of a bare poſſibility? When it is aſked whether Agamemnon, Therſites Hannibal, Varro, and every ſtupid clown that ever exiſted in Italy, Seythia, Bactria or Guinea, are now alive; can any man think, that a ſcrutiny of nature will furniſh arguments [37] ſtrong enough to anſwer ſo ſtrange a queſ⯑tion in the affirmative? The want of argu⯑ment without revelation ſufficiently eſta⯑bliſhes the negative.—‘"Quanto facilius (ſays Pliny *) "certius que ſibi quemque credere, ac ſpecimen ſecuritatis antigene tali ſumere experimento."’ Our inſenſibility before the compoſition of the body, ſeems to natural reaſon a proof of a like ſtate after diſſolu⯑tion.—Were our horrors of annihilation an original paſſion, not the effect of our gene⯑ral love of happineſs, it would rather prove the mortality of the ſoul. For as nature does nothing in vain, ſhe would never give us a horror againſt an impoſſible event. She may give us a horror againſt an una⯑voidable event, provided our endeavours, as in the preſent caſe, may often remove it to ſome diſtance. Death is in the end un⯑avoidable; yet the human ſpecies could not be preſerved had not nature inſpired us with an averſion towards it. All doctrines are to be ſuſpected which are favoured by [38] our paſſions, and the hopes and fears which gave riſe to this doctrine are very obvi⯑ous.
'TIS an infinite advantage in every con⯑troverſy to defend the negative. If the queſtion be out of the common experien⯑ced courſe of nature, this circumſtance is almoſt if not altogether deciſive. By what arguments or analogies can we prove any ſtate of exiſtence, which no one ever ſaw, and which no way reſembles any that ever was ſeen? Who will repoſe ſuch truſt in any pretended philoſophy as to ad⯑mit upon its teſtimony the reality of ſo marvellous a ſcene? Some new ſpecies of logic is requiſite for that purpoſe, and ſome new faculties of the mind, that may enable us to comprehend that logic.
NOTHING could ſet in a fuller light the infinite obligations which mankind have to divine revelation, ſince we find that no other medium could aſcertain this great and important truth.
ANTI SUICIDE.
[](1) THIS elaborate eulogium on philoſophy points obliquely at religion, which we chriſ⯑tians conſider as the only ſovereign antidote to every diſeaſe incident to the mind of man. It is indeed hard to ſay what reaſon might do were it freed from all reſtraints, eſpecially if a ſucceſſion of philoſophers were inceſſantly improving on one another as they went on, avoiding and correcting the miſtakes of thoſe who preceded them in the ſame purſuit, till at laſt one complete and rational ſyſtem was ef⯑fected. Great things might probably be ac⯑compliſhed in this manner. But no ſuch plan in fact ever was or is likely to be finiſh⯑ed. Neither prieſtcraft, nor magiſterial pow⯑ers, however, cramped the progres of impro⯑ving reaſon, or baffled the genius of en⯑quiring man. The principles of religion and virtue were freely canvaſſed by the boldeſt ſpirits of antiquity. In truth, the ſuperior ad⯑vantage and neceſſity of the chriſtian religi⯑on ſeems manifeſt from this particular circum⯑ſtance, [40] that it has taken away every poſſible reſtraint from natural religion, allowing it to exert itſelf to the utmoſt in ſinding out the fundamental truths of virtue, and in ac⯑quieſcing in them, in openly avowing and ac⯑knowledging them when revealed, in exten⯑ding the views and expectations of men, in giving them more juſt and liberal ſentiments, and in publickly and uniformly diſclaim⯑ing any intention of eſtabliſhing a kingdom for its votaries or believers in this world.
THE doctrines of the goſpel are not inten⯑ded to inſtruct us in the knowledge of every thing which may be really uſeful in the pre⯑ſent life, far leſs of every thing, which, from curioſity alone, we may have a mighty deſire to know. Revelation conſiders mankind in their higheſt capacity, as the rational and accountable ſubjects of God, and as capable both of preſent and future happineſs or miſery, according to their behaviour. Its chief, if not its ſole deſign, is to give us thoſe views and im⯑preſſions of our nature, of our ſtate, of the perfections, the counſels, the laws, and the government of God, which, under the influence of providence, are the immediate and infallible means of the purity, of the comfort, and of the moral order, rectitude, and excellence of our immortal ſouls. As corrupted and diſ⯑ordered, we are incapable of true happineſs, till purified and reſtored to order. As guilty and [41] mortal creatures, we can have no true con⯑ſolation without the hopes of pardon in a fu⯑ture and ſeperate ſtate of exiſtence. As ſur⯑rounded with dangers, and obnoxious to e⯑very diſmal apprehenſion, we can poſſes no ſolid, or permanent content, but in the ſin⯑cere and well grounded convictions of that gracious and righteous adminiſtration ſo mi⯑nutely and explicity delineated in the ſcrip⯑tures. It is evident, therefore, that the prin⯑cipal excellence and utility of revealed truths muſt lie or conſiſt in the influence they have upon the ſanctification and conſolation of our hearts. They tally exactly with the pre⯑ſent circumſtances of mankind, and are ad⯑mirably adapted to cure every diſeaſe, every diſorder of the human mind, to beget, to che⯑riſh, and confirm every pure, every virtu⯑ous, every pious diſpoſition.
MANKIND are certainly at preſent in a ſtate of the deepeſt corruption and depra⯑vity, and at the ſame time apt to continue ſtrangely inſenſible of the miſery and dan⯑ger to which, under the government of in⯑finite wiſdom, it neceſſarily renders them. Nothing can be conceived more fit to rouſe them from their lethargy, and to awaken them to a juſt ſenſe of their condition, than a meſſenger from Heaven, clothed with di⯑vine authority, ſetting before them the in⯑trinſic [42] baſeneſs, malignity, and wretched⯑neſs of vice, together with the certain, the dreadful, the eternal conſequences of con⯑tinuing in it.
COULD we enter upon a particular view of all thoſe maladies and diſorders which in⯑feſt and deſtroy the ſouls of men, it were ea⯑ſy to ſhew, that a ſteadfaſt belief of religion is, in truth, the moſt natural and the beſt an⯑tidote or remedy for each of them. It is ob⯑vious, at leaſt, that the clear and full mani⯑feſtation, which the goſpel has given of the character of God, and the laws of his moral government, and of the terms of ſalvation through faith in the religion of his ſon, are all finely calculated to root out the princi⯑ples of ſuperſtition, and all falſe notions, de⯑ſtructive to the virtue and happineſs of man⯑kind, and to plant in their room whatever has a natural and direct tendency to promote our virtue, our perfection, our felicity. M.
(2) CLEOMENES, king of Sparta, when ſuffering under misfortune, was adviſed to kill himſelf by Tharyceon. "Thinkeſt thou, wicked man, (ſaid he) to ſhew thy for⯑titude by ruſhing upon death, an expedient always at hand, the daſtardly reſource of the [43] baſeſt minds? Better than we, by the for⯑tune of arms, or overpowered by numbers, have left the field of battle to their enemies; but he who, to avoid pain, or calamity, or from a ſlaviſh regard to the praiſe or cenſures of men, gives up the conteſt, is overcome by his own cowardice. If we are to ſeek death, that death ought to be in action. it is baſe to live or die only for ourſelves. All we gain by ſuicide is to get rid of preſent difficulty, without increaſing our own reputation, or doing the leaſt ſer⯑vice to our country. In hopes, then, we may yet be of ſome uſe to others, both methinks are bound to preſerve life as long as we can. Whenever theſe hopes ſhall have altogether abandoned us, death, if ſought for, will rea⯑dily be found.
(3) OF all the refined cobwebs, to which ſophiſtry has given birth, this ſeems at once the moſt elaborate and the moſt flimſy. It ſeems one of the firſt and moſt indiſputa⯑ble maxims in all ſound reaſoning, that no ideas whatever ſhould have a place in the premiſes, which do not communicate a ſen⯑ſible energy to the concluſion. But where is the connection between the beginning and end of this wire-drawn argument. What have the various beautiful facts, thus elegantly ſta⯑ted, to do with a man's taking away his own [44] life? Though the greateſt philoſopher be of no more conſequence to the general ſyſtem of things than an oyſter, and though the life of the one were, in every reſpect, as perfectly inſignificant as that of the other, ſtill the meaneſt of mankind is not without impor⯑tance in his own eyes. And where is he who is guided uniformly, in all his actions, more by a ſenſe of his relation to the univerſe at large, than by the value he retains for him⯑ſelf, or the deference he has to his own opi⯑nion.
No deduction, however plauſible, can pro⯑duce conviction in any rational mind, which originates in a ſuppoſition groſsly abſurd. Is it poſſible to conceive the author of nature capable of authenticating a deed, which ul⯑timately terminates in the total annihilation of the ſyſtem? By which of the creatures be⯑neath us is the firſt law of their being thus da⯑ringly violated? And if ſuicide be eligible to man, under any poſſible misfortune or diſ⯑treſs, why not to them? Are not they alſo ſubject to the various miſeries which ariſe from wayward accidents and hoſtile elements? Why, therefore, open a door for our eſcape from thoſe evils of which others have their ſhare, to whom, however, it muſt remain for ever ſhut?
[45] IN truth, the exiſtence of all animals de⯑pends entirely on their inviolable attach⯑ment to ſelf-preſervation. Their attention to all poſſible means of ſelf-defence and ſuſtenance, is accordingly the obvious and common con⯑dition of all their natures. By this great and operative principle nature has chiefly con⯑ſulted her own ſafety. Our philoſopher's notions are ſo extremely hoſtile to her moſt eſſential inſtitutions, that ſhe could not poſ⯑ſibly ſurvive a general conviction of them. And, in ſpite of all the ſophiſtry he is maſter of, the queſtion here will eternally recur, whether the wiſdom of nature, or the philo⯑ſophy of our author, deſerves the prefer⯑ence.
(4) THIS apology for the commiſ⯑ſion, ariſing from man's inſignificance in the moral world, from the reciprocation of ſocial duty being diſſolved, or from the benefit reſulting from the voluntary diſ⯑miſſion of being, is contrary to the ſoun⯑deſt principles of juriſprudence, to the con⯑dition of human nature, and to the general eſtabliſhment of things.
THAT a man who retires from life ad libi⯑tum, does no harm to ſociety, is a propoſition peculiarly abſurd and erroneous. What is [46] lawful for one, may be lawful for all, and no ſociety can ſubſiſt in the conviction of a principle thus hoſtile to its being.
IT ſeems to be a maxim in human exiſtence, that no creature has a right to decide peremp⯑torily on the importance, utility, or neceſſi⯑ty of his own being. There are an infinite variety of ſecret connections and aſſociations in the vaſt ſyſtem of things, which the eye of created wiſdom cannot explore.
MAN is not, perhaps, ſo ignorant of anything, or any creature, as of himſelf. His own ſyſ⯑tem, after all the art and inquiſition of human ingenuity, is ſtill to him the profoundeſt myſ⯑tery in nature. His knowledge and facul⯑ties are adequate to the ſphere of his duty. Be⯑yond this, his reſearches are impertinent, and all his acquiſitions uſeleſs. He has no ade⯑quate notions what the laws of the univerſe are with reſpect to any ſpecies of exiſtence whatever. A cloud reſts on the complicated movements of this great machine, which baffles all the penetration of mortals: and it will for ever remain impoſſible for man, from the moſt complete analyſis of his pre⯑ſent ſituation, to judge, with any degree of preciſion, of his own conſequence, either as a citizen of the world at large, or as a mem⯑ber of any particular ſociety.
[47] FINAL cauſes form a ſyſtem of knowledge too wonderful for man. It is the perrogative of nature alone to decide upon them. In the fulneſs of time, her creative hand brought him into exiſtence, and it belongs to her alone, in conſequence of an arrangement equally wonderful and myſterious to diſmiſs him from his preſent mode of being. This is an authority with which ſhe alone is inveſted, and which, according to our apprehenſions, it is impoſſible for her to delegate. Diſſolution, as well as creation, is hers, and he who would attempt to infringe her ſovereignty in this in⯑ſtance, would uſurp a prerogative which does not belong to him, and become a traitor to the laws of his being. Nay, on this extrava⯑gant and licentious hypotheſis, the right of aſſuming and relinquiſhing exiſtence is made reciprocal. For he who arrogates the liberty of deſtroying himſelf, were he poſſeſſed of the power, might alſo be his own creator; his i⯑maginary inſignificance to ſociety being as inconcluſive in the one caſe, as any chime⯑rical advantage that may accidentally ſtrike him can be in the other. It is a ſtrange doc⯑trine, which cannot be eſtabliſhed, but at the obvious expence of what ſeem the plaineſt dictates of common ſenſe.
INDEED, the abſurdities of this daring and paradoxical doctrine are endleſs and infinite. [48] When we come to pronounce on the condi⯑tion of human infancy, and to ſeperate child⯑hood, or non-age, from a ſtate of maturity, we can ſcarce trace one uſeful or ſalutary conſequence it is calculated to produce in ſociety. In this view children ſeem leſs a⯑dapted to ſerve any ſpecial or important end, than even beetles, gnats, or flies. Experience, however, has long convinced the world of their preſent ineſtimable value from their future deſtination. And were a legiſlator, from the plauſible pretext of their being a burden to the ſtate, to exterminate the race of mankind in the inſignificant ſtage of infancy, his de⯑cree, like that of a certain monſter recorded in the goſpel, would ſhock the ſentiments of every nation under heaven, in whom there remained only the dregs of humanity.
IT is not only impoſſible for a man to de⯑cide, in any given period, of the progreſs of his exiſtence, or what utility or conſequence he may be to ſociety; but without the faculty of preſcience, it is ſtill more impracticable for him to divine what purpoſes he may be intended to ſerve in the many myſterious revo⯑lations of futurity. How far his mortal may be connected with his immortal life, muſt reſt with him who has the ſole diſpoſal of it. But who told him that his load of miſery was too much to bear, that he was not able to ſuſ⯑tain [49] it? or that his merciful father would not proportionate his ſufferings to his abilities? How does he know how ſhort-lived the preſ⯑ſure of incumbent ſorrow may prove? It be⯑comes not him to preſcribe to his maker, or becauſe his evils are enormous, to conclude they muſt be permanent. Raſh man! thy heart is in the hand of heaven, and he who tempers the wind to the ſhorn lamb, may either lighten the burthen that oppreſſes thee, or blunt the edge of that ſenſibility, from which it derives the greateſt poignancy. What me⯑dicine is to the wounds of the body, that re⯑ſignation is to thoſe of the ſoul. Be not deficient in this virtue, and life will never pre⯑ſcribe a duty you cannot perform, or inflict a pang which you cannot bear. Reſignation changes the grizzly aſpect of affliction, turns ſickneſs into health, and converts the gloomy forebdoings of deſpair into the grateful pre⯑ſentiments of hope. Beſides, the moſt inſig⯑nificant inſtruments are ſometimes, in the hands of eternal providence, employed in bringing about the moſt general and benefi⯑cent revolutions. It is by making weakneſs thus ſubſervient to power, evil to good, and pain to pleaſure, that he who governs the world illuſtrates his ſovereinty and omnipo⯑tence. Till, then, thou art able to compre⯑hend the whole myſterious ſyſtem of every poſſible exiſtence, till thou art certain that thy life is totally inſignificant, till thou art [50] convinced it is not in the might of infinite power to render thee ſerviceable either to thy⯑ſelf or others, counteract not the benignity of providence by ſuicide, or, in this manner, by the blackeſt of all treaſons, betray thy truſt, and wage, at fearful odds, hoſtility againſt the very means and author of thy being.
ONE very obvious conſequence ariſing from ſuicide, which none of its advocates appear to have foreſeen, and which places it in a light exceedingly groſs and ſhocking, is, that it ſuppoſes every man capable, not only of deſtroying himſelf, but of delegating the pow⯑er of committing murder to another. That which he may do himſelf, he may commiſſion any one to do for him. On this ſuppoſition, no law, human or divine, could impeach the ſhedding of innocent blood. And on what principle, of right or expediency, admit that which produces ſuch a train of the moſt hor⯑rid and deteſtable conſequences?
(5) THE preceding note is, perhaps, the moſt audacious part in the whole of this very ex⯑traordinary performance. In our holy religion it is expreſsly declared that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him; that murder⯑ers ſhall in no wiſe inherit the kingdom of God, and that it is the prerogative of heaven alone to kill and make alive. It is a funda⯑mental [51] doctrine in the goſpel, that, except ye repent, ye ſhall all likewiſe periſh. And how are they to perform their duty, who, in the inſtant of dying, contract a guilt, which ren⯑ders it indiſpenſible. But this horrid ſuppo⯑ſition is repugnant to the whole genius of re⯑velation, which inculates every virtue that can poſſibly adminiſter to our preſent and fu⯑ture welfare. It inforces obedience and re⯑ſignation to the righteous government of God. It inſpires and produces thoſe very diſpoſiti⯑ons which it recommends. All its doctrines, exhortations, and duties, are formed to elevate the mind, to raiſe the affections, to regulate the paſſions, and to purge the heart of whatever is hoſtile to happineſs in this or another life. This impious ſlander on the chriſtian faith is the obvious conſequence of the groſſeſt in⯑attention to its nature and tendency. It is calculated chiefly to make us happy. And what happy man was ever yet chargeable with ſuicide? In ſhort, we may as well ſay, that, becauſe the phyſician does not expreſſ⯑ly prohibit certain diſeaſes in his preſcriptions, the very diſeaſes are authenticated by the re⯑medies deviſed, on purpoſe to counteract them.
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
[52](1) The ingenuity of Scepticiſm has been long admired, but here the author boldly out⯑does all his former out-doings. Much has been ſaid againſt the authenticity of religion, on the ſuppoſition that the evidence to which ſhe appeals, is not either ſufficiently general or intelligible to the bulk of mankind. But ſurely an argument is not concluſive in one caſe, and inconcluſive in another. Admit this reaſoning againſt revelation to be valid, and you muſt alſo admit it againſt our author's hy⯑potheſis. There never at leaſt was an ob⯑jection ſtarted, that could, in the remoteſt de⯑gree, affect the truths of the goſpel, more in⯑tricate, metaphyſical, and abſtracted, than that by which our eſſayeſt would deſtroy the popu⯑lar doctrine of the ſoul's immortality. How many live and die in this ſalutary conviction, to whom theſe refined ſpeculations muſt for⯑ever remain as unintelligible as if they had [53] never been formed! It is a ſentiment ſo con⯑genial to the heart of man, that few of the ſpe⯑cies would chuſe to exiſt without it. Unable, as they are, to account for its origin, they cor⯑dially and univerſally indulge it, as one of their tendereſt, beſt, and laſt feelings. It inha⯑bits alike the rudeſt and moſt poliſhed minds, and never leaves any human breaſt, which is not either wholly engroſſed by criminal plea⯑ſure, deadened by ſelfiſh purſuits, or per⯑verted by falſe reaſoning. It governs with all the ardor and influence of inſpiration, and never meets with any oppoſition but from the weak, the worthleſs, or the will above what is written. All the world have uni⯑formly conſidered it as their laſt reſource in every extremity, and for the moſt part ſtill re⯑gard and cheriſh the belief of it, as an aſylum in which their beſt intereſts are ultimately ſe⯑cured or depoſited, beyond the reach of all temporary diſaſter or misfortune. Where, therefore, is the probability of exterminating ſo popular and prevailing a notion, by a concate⯑nation of ideas, which, perhaps, not one out of a million in any country under Heaven is able to trace or comprehend?
(2) The natural perceptions of pleaſure or pain cannot be ſaid to act on the mind as one part of matter does on another. The ſub⯑ſtance of the ſoul we do not know, but are [54] certain her ideas muſt be immaterial. And theſe cannot poſſibly act either by contact or impulſe. When one body impels another, the body moved is affected only by the impulſe. But the mind, whenever rouſed by any plea⯑ſing or painful ſenſation, in moſt caſes looks round her, and deliberates whether a change of ſtate is proper, or the preſent more eligible; and moves or reſts accord⯑dingly. Her preceptions, therefore, contri⯑bute no further to action, than by exciting her active powers. On the contrary, matter is blindly and obſtinately in that ſtate in which it is, whether of motion or reſt, till changed by ſome other adequate cauſe. Sup⯑poſe we reſt the ſtate of any body, ſome ex⯑ternal force is requiſite to put it in motion; and, in proportion as this force is greater or ſmall, the motion muſt be ſwift or flow. Did not this body continue in its former ſtate, no external force would be requiſite to change it; nor, when changed, would different degrees of force be neceſſary to move it in different de⯑grees of velocity. When motion is impreſſed on any body, to bring it to reſt, an extra-force muſt always be applied, in proportion to the intended effect. This reſiſtance is ob⯑ſervable in bodies both when moved in par⯑ticular directions, and to bear an exact propor⯑tion to the vis impreſſia, and to the quantity of matter moved. Were it poſſible to extract from matter the qualities of ſolidity and ex⯑tenſion, [55] the matter whence ſuch qualities were extracted would no longer reſiſt; and con⯑ſequently reſiſtance is the neceſſary reſult of them, which, therefore, in all directions muſt be the ſame. The degree of reſiſtance in any body being proportionate to the vis impreſſa, it follows, when that body is conſidered in a⯑ny particular ſtate, whether of motion or reſt, the degrees of reſiſtance muſt either indefinitely multiply, or decreaſe, according to all poſſible degrees of the moving force. But when the ſame body is conſidered abſolutely, or without fixing any particular ſtate, the reſiſtance is immutable; and all the degrees of it, which that body would exert upon the acceſſion of any impreſſed force, muſt be conceived as ac⯑tually in it. Nor can matter have any ten⯑dency contrary to that reſiſtance, otherwiſe it muſt be equal or ſuperior. If equal, the two contrary tendencies would deſtroy each other. If ſuperior, the reſiſtance would be deſtroyed. Thus change would eternally ſucceed to change without one intermediate inſtant, ſo that no time would be aſſigned when any bo⯑dy was in any particular ſtate. Gravitation itſelf, the moſt ſimple and univerſal law, ſeems far from being a tendency natural to mat⯑ter; ſince it is found to act internally, and not in proportion to the ſuperfices of any bo⯑dy; which it would not do, if it were only the mechanical action of matter upon matter. [56] From all this, it appears, that matter con⯑ſidered merely as ſuch, is ſo far from having a principle of ſpontaneous motion, that it is ſtubbornly inactive, and muſt eternally remain in the ſame ſtate in which it happens to be, except influenced by ſome other—that is, ſome immaterial power. Of ſuch a power the human ſoul is evidently poſſeſſed; for every one is conſcious of an internal activity, and to diſpute this would be to diſpute us out of one of the moſt real and intimate per⯑ceptions we have.
Though a material automaton were allow⯑ed poſſible, how infinitely would it fall ſhort of that force and celerity which every one feels in himſelf. How ſluggiſh are all the movements which fall under our obſervation. How ſlow and gradual their tranſitions from one part of ſpace to another. But the mind, by one inſtantaneous effort, meaſures the diſtance from pole to pole, from heaven to earth, from one fixed ſtar to another; and not confined within the limits of the viſible creation, ſhoots into immenſity with a rapi⯑dity to which even that of lightning, or ſun⯑beams, is no compariſon. Who then ſhall aſſign a period, which, though depreſſed with ſo much dead weight, is ever active, and unconſcious of fatigue or relaxation? The mind is not only herſelf a principle of action, but probably actuates the body, without the [57] aſſiſtance of any intermediate power, both from the gradual command which ſhe ac⯑quires of its members by habit, and from a capacity of determining, in ſome meaſure, the quantity of pleaſure or pain which any ſen⯑ſible perception can give her. Suppoſing the interpoſing power a ſpirit, the ſame difficul⯑ty of ſpirit acting upon matter ſtill remains. And the volition of our own mind will as well account for the motion of the body, as the formal interference of any other ſpiritual ſubſtance. And we may as well aſk, why the mind is not conſcious of that interpoſition, as why ſhe is ignorant of the means by which ſhe communicates motion to the body.
(3) It is always bad reaſoning to draw con⯑cluſions from the premiſes not denied by your adverſary. Whoever, yet, of all the aſſertors of the ſoul's immortality, preſumed to make a mo⯑nopoly of this great privilege to thehuman race? Who can tell what another ſtate of exiſtence may be, or whether every other ſpecies of a⯑nimals may not poſſeſs principles as immor⯑tal as the mind of man? But that mode of reaſoning, which militates againſt all our convictions, ſolely on account of the una⯑voidable ignorance to which our ſphere in the univerſe ſubjects us, can never be ſatisfactory. Reaſon, it is true, cannot altogether ſolve e⯑very doubt which ariſes concerning this im⯑portant truth. But neither is there any o⯑ther [58] truth, of any denomination whatever, a⯑gainſt which ſophiſtry may not conjure up a multitude of exceptions. We know no mode of exiſtence but thoſe of matter and ſpirit, neither of which have uniformly and ſucceſsfully defied the extreme ſubtilty of ar⯑gumentation. Still a very great majority of mankind are ſtaunch believers in both. So well conſtituted is the preſent diſpoſition of things, that all the principles eſſential to human life and happineſs continue, as it is likely they ever will, to operate, in ſpite of every ſort of clamour which ſophiſtry or ſcepticiſm has raiſed or can raiſe againſt them.
(4) There is not a ſingle word in all this elabarate and tedious deduction, which has not been urged and refuted five hundred times. Our ignorance of the divine perfections, as is uſual with this writer, is here ſtated as an unanſwerable exception to the concluſion uſu⯑ally drawn from them. But he very artfully overlooks, that this great ignorance will be equally concluſive as applied to either ſide of the argument. When we compare, however, the character of God, as a wiſe ſuperinten⯑dant, and generous benefactor, with the ſtate in which things at preſent appear, where vir⯑tue is [...] depreſſed and afflicted, and vice ap⯑parently triumphs, it will be treated with the infamy it merits, and virtue receive that [59] happineſs and honour, which, from its own intrinſic worth, it deſerves, and, from its conformity to the nature of God, it has reaſon to expect.
This ſubject, perhaps, has been too much exaggerated, and ſome pious men have weakly thought, the beſt way to convince us that order and happineſs prevailed in a future ſtate, was to perſuade us that there was none at all in this. External advantages have been ta⯑ken for the only goods of human nature; and, becauſe, in this view, all things ſpeak the appearance of mal-adminiſtration, we have been taught to expect a government of recti⯑tude and benevolence hereafter. Let us, on the contrary, candidly own that virtue is ſo⯑vereignly and ſolely good, leſt, by depreciating her charms, we obliquely detract from the character of God himſelf. Let us confeſs her undowered excellence ſuperior to all the inconveniences that may attend her, even in the preſent ſituation. But, without allow⯑ing ſome difference between poverty and riches, ſickneſs and health, pain and pleaſure, &c. we ſhall have no foundation to prefer⯑ence; and it will be in vain to talk of ſe⯑lecting where no one choice can be more a⯑greeable or diſagreeable to nature than ano⯑ther. Upon this difference, therefore, how⯑ever it be called, let the preſent argument proceed.
[60] If infinite goodneſs be the ſpirit and cha⯑racteriſtic of this univerſal government, then every advantage, however inconſiderable in kind or degree, muſt either be ſuppoſed imme⯑diately beſtowed on virtue; or, at leaſt, that ſuch retributions will, at ſome time, be made her, as may not only render her votaries equal, but ſuperior to thoſe of vice, in proportion to their merit. But how different the caſe is in human life, hiſtory and obſervation may ea⯑ſily convince us; ſo that one, whoſe eyes are not intent on the character of God, and the nature of virtue, would often be tempted to think this world a theatre merely intended for mournful ſpectacles and pomps of horror. How many perſons do we ſee periſh by the mere wants of nature, who, had they been in dif⯑ferent circumſtances, would have thanked God with tears of joy for the power of communica⯑ting thoſe advantages they now implore from others in vain? While, at the ſame time, they have, perhaps, the additional miſery of ſeeing the moſt endeared relations involved in the ſame deplorable fate! How often do we ſee thoſe ties which unite the ſoul and body, worn out by the gradual advances of a lingering diſeaſe, or burſt at once by the ſud⯑den efforts of unutterable agony? While the unhappy ſufferers, had they been continued in [...], might have diffuſed happineſs, not only through the narrow circle of their [61] friends and neighbourhood, but as extenſive⯑ly as their country, and even the world at large. How many names do we ſee buried in obſcurity, or ſoiled with detraction, which ought to have ſhone the firſt in fame? How many heroes have ſurvived the liberties of their country, or died in abortive attempts to preſerve them; and, by their fall, only left a larger field for the lawleſs ravages of ty⯑ranny and oppreſſion?
But were it poſſible, how long and inſupera⯑ble would be the taſk to enumerate all the ingredients which compoſe the preſent cup of bitterneſs? And is this the conſummation of things? Will ſupreme and eſſential good⯑neſs no way diſtinguiſh ſuch as have invari⯑ably purſued his honour, and the intereſt of his government, from thoſe who have induſtri⯑ouſly violated the order he has appointed in things? who have blotted the face of nature with havock, murder, and deſolation; and ſhewn a conſtant intention to counteract all the benevolent deſigns of providence? It is confeſſed that the virtuous, happy in the poſ⯑ſeſſion of virtue alone, make their exit from the preſent ſcene with bleſſings to the Creator, for having called them to exiſtence, and given them the glorious opportunity of enjoying what is in itſelf ſupremely eligible. They are conſcious that this felicity can receive no acceſſion from any external luſtre or advan⯑tage [62] whatever. Yet it ſeems highly neceſſary in the divine adminiſtration, that thoſe who have been dazzled with the falſe glare of proſ⯑perous wickedneſs, ſhould at laſt be unde⯑ceived; that they ſhould at laſt behold virtue conſpicuous, in all her native ſplendor and majeſty as ſhe ſhines, the chief delight of God, and ultimate happineſs of all intelligent nature.
The language of religion, and our own hearts, on this important argument, is equally comfortable and deciſive. It accumulates and enforces whatever can inſpire us with confi⯑dence in that God, who is not the God of the dead, but of the living; who reigns in the inviſible, as well as in the viſible world; and whoſe attention to our welfare ceaſes not with our lives, but is commenſurate to the full ex⯑tent of our being. Indeed the votaries of the ſoul's mortality may as well be honeſt for once, and ſpeak out what ſo many fools think in their hearts. For what is God to us, or we to him, if our connection extends but to the pitiful ſpace allotted us in ſuch a pitiful world as this is? To be ſure, no abſurdity will be rejected, which can ſmother the feel⯑ings, or keep the vices of profligates in coun⯑tenance; but, if only made like worms and reptiles beneath our feet, to live this moment, and expire the next, to ſtruggle in a wretch⯑ed life with every internal and external cala⯑mity, [63] that can aſſault our bodies, or infeſt our minds; to bear the mortifications of maligni⯑ty, and the unmerited abhorrence of thoſe who perhaps may owe us the greateſt and ten⯑dereſt eſteem, and then, ſunk in everlaſting ob⯑livion, our fate would ſtand on record, in the annals of the univerſe, an eternal exception to all that can be called good.
Suppoſe a father poſſeſſed of the moſt ex⯑quiſite tenderneſs for his ſon, delighted with his ſimilarity of form, his promiſing conſti⯑tution, his ſtrength, gracefulneſs, and agility, his undiſguiſed emotions of filial affection, with the various preſages of a ſuperior geni⯑us and underſtanding. Let us ſuppoſe this father pleaſed with the employment of impro⯑ving his faculties, and inſpiring him with future hopes of happineſs and dignity: but that he may give him a quicker ſenſibility to the misfortunes of others, and a more unſhaken fortitude to ſuſtain his own, he often preſers younger brethren, and even ſtrangers, to thoſe advantages which otherwiſe merit, and the force of nature would determine him to be⯑ſtow on ſo worthy an offspring. Let us go further, and imagine, if we can, that this fa⯑ther, without the leaſt diminution of tender⯑neſs, or any other apparent reaſon, deſtroys his ſon in the bloom of life, and height of ex⯑pectation: Who would not lament the fate of ſuch a youth with inconſolable tears? [64] Doomed never more to behold the agreeable light of Heaven! never more to diſplay his per⯑ſonal graces, nor exerciſe his manly powers, never more to feel his heart warm with bene⯑volent regards, nor taſte the ſoul-tranſporting pleaſure of obliging and being obliged! Blot⯑ted at once from exiſtence, and the fair cre⯑ation, he ſinks into ſilence and oblivion, with all his ſublime hopes diſappointed, all his im⯑menſe deſires ungratified, and all his intellectu⯑al faculties unimproved. Without mentioning the inſtinctive horror which muſt attend ſuch an action, how abſurd to reaſon, and how in⯑conſiſtent with the common feelings of hu⯑manity would it be to ſuppoſe a father ca⯑pable of ſuch a deed. Forbid it, God! for⯑bid it, Nature! that we ſhould impute to the munificent father of being and happineſs, what, even in the loweſt of rational creatures, would be monſtrous and deteſtable!
(5) The truth is, that form which all man⯑kind have deemed immortal, is ſo far from be⯑ing the fraileſt, that it ſeems in fact the moſt indiſſoluble and permanent of any other we know. All the rational and inventtive powers of the mind happily conſpire to pro⯑claim her infinitely different in nature, and ſuperior in dignity to every poſſible modifi⯑cation of pure matter. Were mankind [65] joined in ſociety, was life poliſhed and culti⯑vated, were the ſciences and arts, not only of utility, but elegance, produced by matter? by a brute maſs? A ſubſtance ſo contrary to all activity and intelligence, that it ſeems the work of an omnipotent hand alone to connect them. What judgment ſhould we form of that principle which informed and enlightened a Galileo, a Copernicus, or a Newton? What inſpiration taught them, to place the ſun in the center of this ſyſtem, and aſſign the various orbs their revolutions round him, reducing motions ſo diverſe and unequal, to uniform and ſimple laws? Was it not ſomething like that great eternal mind, which firſt gave exiſtence to thoſe lu⯑minous orbs, and preſcribed each of them their province? Whence the infinite har⯑mony and variety of ſound, the copious flows of eloquence, the bolder graces and more inſpired elevations of poetry, but from a mind, an immaterial being, the reflected image of her all-perfect Creator, in whom eter⯑nally dwells all beauty and excellence. Were man only endowed with a principle of ve⯑getation, fixed to one peculiar ſpot, and in⯑ſenſible of all that paſſed around him; we might, then, with ſome colour, ſuppoſe that energy, if it may be ſo called, periſhable. Were, he like animals poſſeſſed of mere vita⯑bility, and qualified only to move and feel, ſtill we might have ſome reaſon to fear that, [66] in ſome future period of duration, our Creator might reſume his gift of exiſtence. But can any one, who pretends to the leaſt reflection, ima⯑gine that ſuch a being as the human ſoul, a⯑dorned with ſuch extenſive intellectual pow⯑ers, will ever ceaſe to be the object of that love and care which eternally holds the uni⯑verſe in its embrace? Did ſhe obtain ſuch a boundleſs underſtanding merely to taſte the pleaſure of exerciſing it? to catch a tranſient glance of its objects, and periſh? Formed, as ſhe is, to operate on herſelf, and all things round her, muſt ſhe ceaſe from action, while yet the mighty taſk is ſcarce begun? muſt ſhe loſe thoſe faculties, by which ſhe retains the paſt, comprehends the preſents and pre⯑ſages the future? muſt ſhe contemplate no more thoſe bright impreſſions of divinity, which are diſcovered in the material world; nor thoſe ſtronger, and more animated features of the ſame eternal beauty which ſhine in her own god-like form? And muſt ſhe be abſorbed forever in the womb of uneſſential nothing? Strange, that in the view, and even in the arms of infinite power and goodneſs, a dawn ſo fair and promiſing, ſhould at one be cloud⯑ed with all the horrors of eternal night? Such a ſuppoſition would be contrary to the whole conduct and laws of nature.
The following Letters on SUICIDE are extracted from ROSSEAU's ELOISA.
[67]LETTER CXIV.
To Lord B—.
YES, my Lord, I confeſs it; the weight of life is too heavy for my ſoul. I have long endured it as a burden; I have loſt eve⯑ry thing which could make it dear to me, and nothing remains but irkſomeneſs and vexation. I am told, however, that I am not at liberty to diſpoſe of my life, without the permiſſion of that Being from whom I received it. I am ſenſible likewiſe that you have a right over it by more titles than one. Your care has twice preſerved it, and your goodneſs is its conſtant ſecurity. I will ne⯑ver [68] diſpoſe of it, till I am certain that I may do it without a crime, and till I have not the leaſt hope of employing it for your ſer⯑vice.
You told me that I ſhould be of uſe to you; why did you deceive me? Since we have been in London, ſo far from thinking of employ⯑ing me in your concerns, you have been kind enough to make me your only concern. How ſuperfluous is your obliging ſolicitude! My lord, you know I abhor a crime, even worſe than I deteſt life; I adore the ſupreme Being—I owe every thing to you; I have an affection for you; you are the only perſon on earth to whom I am attached. Friendſhip and du⯑ty may chain a wretch to this earth: ſophiſtry and vain pretences will never detain him. En⯑lighten my underſtanding, ſpeak to my heart; I am ready to hear you, but remember, that deſpair is not to be impoſed upon.
You would have me apply to the teſt of reaſon: I will; let us reaſon. You deſire me to deliberate in proportion to the impor⯑tance [69] of the queſtion in debate; I agree to it. Let us inveſtigate truth with temper and moderation; let us diſcuſs this general propo⯑ſition with the ſame indifference we ſhould treat any other. Robeck wrote an apology for ſuicide before he put an end end to his life. I will not, after his example, write a book on the ſubject, neither am I well ſatisfied with that which he has penned, but I hope in this diſcuſſion at leaſt to imitate his moderation.
I have for a long time meditated on this awful ſubject. You muſt be ſenſible that I have, for you know my deſtiny, and yet I am alive. The more I reflect, the more I am con⯑vinced that the queſtion may be reduced to this fundamental propoſition. Every man has a right by nature to purſue what he thinks good, and avoid what he thinks evil, in all reſpects which are not injurious to others. When our life therefore becomes a miſery to our⯑ſelves, and is of advantage to no one, we are at liberty to put an end to our being. If there is any ſuch thing as a clear and ſelf-evident [70] principle, certainly this is one, and if this be ſubverted, there is ſcarce an action in life which may not be made criminal.
Let us hear what the philoſophers ſay on this ſubject. Firſt, they conſider life as ſomething which is not our own, becauſe we hold it as a gift; but becauſe it has been given to us, is it for that reaſon our own? Has not God given theſe ſophiſts two arms? ne⯑vertheleſs, when they are under apprehenſi⯑ons of a mortification, they do not ſcruple to amputate one, or both if there be occaſion. By a parity of reaſoning, we may convince thoſe who believe in the immortality of the ſoul; for if I ſacrifice my arm to the preſervation of ſomething more precious, which is my body, I have the ſame right to ſacrifice my body to the preſervation of ſomething more valuable, which is, the happineſs of my exiſtence. If all the gifts which heaven has beſtowed are naturally deſigned for our good, they are certainly too apt to change their nature; and Providence has endowed us with reaſon, that we may diſcern the difference. If this rule [71] did not authorize us to chuſe the one, and re⯑ject the other, to what uſe would it ſerve a⯑mong mankind?
But they turn this weak objection into a thouſand ſhapes. They conſider a man li⯑ving upon earth as a ſoldier placed on duty. God, ſay they, has fixed you in this world, why do you quit your ſtation without his leave? But you, who argue thus, has he not ſtationed you in the town where you was born, why therefore do you quit it without his leave? is not miſery, of itſelf, a ſufficient permiſſion? whatever ſtation Providence has aſſigned me, whether it be in a regiment, or on the earth at large, he intended me to ſtay there while I found my ſituation agreeable, and to leave it when it became intolerable. This is the voice of nature, and the voice of God. I agree that we muſt wait for an order; but when I die a na⯑tural death, God does not order me to quit life, he takes it from me; it is by rendering life in⯑ſupportable, that he orders me to quit it. In the firſt caſe, I reſiſt with all my force; in the ſecond, I have the merit of obedience.
[72] Can you conceive that there are ſome people ſo abſurd as to arraign ſuicide as a kind of re⯑bellion againſt Providence, by an attempt to fly from his laws? but we do not put an end to our being in order to withdraw ourſelves from his commands, but to execute them. What! does the power of God extend no far⯑ther than to my body? is there a ſpot in the univerſe, is there any being in the univerſe, which is not ſubject to his power, and will that power have leſs immediate influence over me when my being is refined, and thereby be⯑comes leſs compound, and of nearer reſem⯑blance to the divine eſſence? no, his juſtice and goodneſs are the foundation of my hopes; and if I thought that death would withdraw me from his power, I would give up my reſo⯑lution to die.
This is one of the quibbles of the Phaedo, which, in other reſpects, abounds with ſublime truths. If your ſlave deſtroys himſelf, ſays Socrates to Cebes, would you not puniſh him, for having unjuſtly deprived you of your pro⯑perty; [73] prithee, good Socrates, do we not be⯑long to God after we are dead? The caſe you put is not applicable; you ought to argue thus: if you incumber your ſlave with a habit which confines him from diſcharging his duty pro⯑perly, will you puniſh him for quitting it, in order to render you better ſervice? the grand error lies in making life of too great impor⯑tance; as if our exiſtence depended upon it, and that death was a total annihilation. Our life is of no conſequence in the ſight of God; it is of no importance in the eyes of reaſon, neither ought it to be of any in our ſight; when we quit our body, we only lay aſide an incon⯑venient habit. Is this circumſtance ſo pain⯑ful, to be the occaſion of ſo much diſturbance? my Lord, theſe declaimers are not in earneſt. Their arguments are abſurd and cruel, for they aggravate the ſuppoſed crime, as if it put a pe⯑riod to exiſtence, and they puniſh it, as if that exiſtence was eternal.
With reſpect to Plato's Phaedo, which has furniſhed them with the only ſpecious argu⯑ment that has ever been advanced, the queſtion [74] is diſcuſſed there in a very light and deſultory manner. Socrates being condemned, by an un⯑juſt judgment, to loſe his life in a few hours, had no occaſion to enter into an accurate enquiry whether he was at liberty to diſpoſe of it him⯑ſelf. Suppoſing him really to have been the author of thoſe diſcourſes which Plato aſcribes to him, yet believe me, my lord, he would have meditated with more attention on the ſub⯑ject, had he been in circumſtances which re⯑quired him to reduce his ſpeculations to prac⯑tice; and a ſtrong proof that no valid objec⯑tion can be drawn from that immortal work againſt the right of diſpoſing of our own lives, is, that Cato read it twice through the very night that he deſtroyed himſelf.
The ſame ſophiſters make it a queſtion whe⯑ther life can ever be an evil? but when we conſider the multitude of errors, torments, and vices, with which it abounds, one would ra⯑ther be inclined to doubt whether it can ever be a bleſſing. Guilt inceſſantly beſieges the moſt virtuous of mankind. Every moment he lives he is in danger of falling a prey to the wicked, or of being wicked himſelf. To [75] ſtruggle and to endure, is his lot in this world; that of the diſhoneſt man is to do evil, and to ſuffer. In every other particular they differ, and only agree in ſharing the mi⯑ſeries of life in common. If you required au⯑thorities and facts, I could recite you the ora⯑cles of old, the anſwers of the ſages, and pro⯑duce inſtances where acts of virtue have been recompenſed with death. But let us leave theſe conſiderations, my lord; it is to you whom I addreſs myſelf, and I aſk you what is the chief attention of a wiſe man in this life, except, if I may be allowed the expreſſion, to collect himſelf inwardly, and endeavour, e⯑ven while he lives, to be dead to every object of ſenſe? The only way by which wiſdom di⯑rects us to avoid the miſeries of human nature, is it not to detach ourſelves from all earthly objects, from every thing that is groſs in our compoſition, to retire within ourſelves, and to raiſe our thoughts to ſublime contemplations? If therefore our misfortunes are derived from our paſſions and errors, with what eagerneſs ſhould we wiſh for a ſtate which will deliver us both from the one and the other? What is [76] the fate of thoſe ſons of ſenſuality, who indiſ⯑creetly multiply their torments by their plea⯑ſures? they in fact deſtroy their exiſtence by extending their connections in this life; they increaſe the weight of their crimes by their nu⯑merous attachments; they reliſh no enjoy⯑ments, but what are ſucceeded by a thouſand bitter wants; the more lively their ſenſibi⯑lity, the more acute their ſufferings; the ſtron⯑ger they are attached to life, the more wretch⯑ed they become.
But admitting it, in general, a benefit to man⯑kind to crawl upon the earth with gloomy ſad⯑neſs, I do not mean to intimate that the human race ought with one common conſent to de⯑ſtroy themſelves, and make the world one im⯑menſe grave. But there are miſerable beings, who are too much exalted to be governed by vulgar opinion; to them deſpair and grievous torments are the paſſports of nature. It would be as ridiculous to ſuppoſe that life can be a bleſſing to ſuch men, as it was abſurd in the ſophiſter Poſſidonius to deny that is was an [77] evil, at the ſame time that he endured all the torments of the gout. While life is agreeable to us, we earneſtly wiſh to prolong it, and no⯑thing but a ſenſe of extreme miſery can extin⯑guiſh the deſire of exiſtence; for we natural⯑ly conceive a violent dread of death, and this dread conceals the miſeries of human nature from our ſight. We drag a painful and me⯑lancholy life, for a long time before we can reſolve to quit it; but when once life becomes ſo inſupportable as to overcome the horror of death, then exiſtence is evidently a great evil, and we cannot diſengage ourſelves from it too ſoon. Therefore, though we cannot ex⯑actly aſcertain the point at which it ceaſes to be a bleſſing, yet at leaſt we are certain that it is an evil long before it appears to be ſuch, and with every ſenſible man the right of quit⯑ting life is, by a great deal, precedent to the temptation.
This is not all. After they have denied that life can be an evil, in order to bar our right of making away with ourſelves; they confeſs immediately afterwards that it is an [78] evil, by reproaching us with want of courage to ſupport it. According to them, it is cowar⯑dice to withdraw ourſelves from pain and trouble, and there are none but daſtards who deſtroy themſelves. O Rome, thou vic⯑trix of the world, what a race of cowards did thy empire produce! let Arria, Eponina, Lu⯑cretia, be of the number; they were women. But Brutus, Caſſius, and thou great and di⯑vine Cato, who didſt ſhare with the gods the adoration of an aſtoniſhed world, thou whoſe ſacred and auguſt preſence animated the Ro⯑mans with holy zeal, and made tyrants trem⯑ble, little did thy proud admirers imagine that paltry rhetoricians, immured in the duſty cor⯑ner of a college, would ever attempt to prove that thou wert a coward, for having preferred death to a ſhameful exiſtence.
O the dignity and energy of your modern writers! how ſublime, how intrepid are you with your pens? but tell me, thou great and valiant hero, who doſt ſo courageouſly decline the battle, in order to endure the pain of li⯑ving ſomewhat longer; when a ſpark of fire [79] lights upon your hand, why do you with⯑draw it in ſuch haſte? how? are you ſuch a coward that you dare not bear the ſcorching of fire? nothing, you ſay, can oblige you to endure the burning ſpark; and what obliges me to endure life? was the creation of a man of more difficulty to Providence, than that of a ſtraw? and is not both one and the other equally the work of his hands?
Without doubt, it is an evidence of great fortitude to bear with firmneſs the miſery which we cannot ſhun; none but a fool, how⯑ever, will voluntarily endure evils which he can avoid without a crime; and it is very often a great crime to ſuffer pain unneceſſarily. He who has not reſolution to deliver himſelf from a miſerable being by a ſpeedy death, is like one who would rather ſuffer a wound to mortify, than truſt to a ſurgeon's knife for his cure. Come, thou worthy—out off this leg, which endangers my life. I will ſee it done without ſhrinking, and will give that hero leave to call me coward, who ſuffers his leg to mortify, becauſe he dares not undergo the ſame operation.
[80] I acknowledge that there are duties owing to others, the nature of which will not allow every man to diſpoſe of his life; but, in return, how many are there which give him a right to diſpoſe of it? let a magiſtrate on whom the welfare of a nation depends, let a father of a family who is bound to procure ſubſiſtence for his children, let a debtor who might ruin his creditors, let theſe at all events diſcharge their duty; ad⯑mitting a thouſand other civil and domeſtic relations to oblige an honeſt and unfortunate man to ſupport the miſery of life, to avoid the greater evil of doing injuſtice; is it, there⯑fore, under circumſtances totally different, in⯑cumbent on us to preſerve a life oppreſſed with a ſwarm of miſeries, when it can be of no ſervice but to him who has not courage to die? ‘"Kill me, my child,"’ ſays the decrepid ſavage to his ſon, who carries him on his ſhoulders, and bends under his weight; the ‘"enemy is at hand; go to battle with thy brethren; go and preſerve thy children, and do not ſuffer thy helpleſs father to fall [81] alive into the hands of thoſe whoſe relations he has mangled."’ Though hunger, ſick⯑neſs, and poverty, thoſe domeſtic plagues, more dreadful than ſavage enemies, may al⯑low a wretched cripple to conſume, in a ſick bed, the proviſions of a family which can ſcarce ſubſiſt itſelf, yet he who has no con⯑nections, whom heaven has reduced to the neceſſity of living alone, whoſe wretched ex⯑iſtence can produce no good, why ſhould not he, at leaſt, have the right of quitting a ſtati⯑on, where his complaints are troubleſome, and his ſufferings of no benefit?
Weigh theſe conſiderations, my lord; col⯑lect theſe arguments, and you will find that they may be reduced to the moſt ſimple of na⯑ture's rights, of which no man of ſenſe ever yet entertained a doubt. In fact, why ſhould we be allowed to cure ourſelves of the gout, and not to get rid of the miſery of life? do not both evils proceed from the ſame hand? to what purpoſe is it to ſay, that death is painful? are drugs agreeable to be taken? no, nature revolts againſt both. Let them prove there⯑fore [82] that it is more juſtifiable to cure a tranſi⯑ent diſorder by the application of remedies, than to free ourſelves from an incurable evil by putting an end to our life; and let them ſhew how it can be leſs criminal to uſe the bark for a fever, than to take opium for the ſtone. If we conſider the object in view, it is in both caſes to free ourſelves from painful ſenſations; if we regard the means, both one and the other are equally natural; if we conſider the repugnance of our nature, it ope⯑rates equally on both ſides; if we attend to the will of providence, can we ſtruggle againſt any evil of which it is not the author? can we deliver ourſelves from any torment which the hand of God has not inflicted? what are the bounds which limit his power, and when is reſiſtance lawful? are we then to make no alteration in the condition of things, becauſe every thing is in the ſtate he appointed? muſt we do nothing in this life, for fear of infring⯑ing his laws, or is it in our power to break them if we would? no, my lord, the occupa⯑tion of man is more great and noble. God did not give him life that he ſhould ſu⯑pinely [83] remain in a ſtate of conſtant inactivity. But he gave him freedom to act, conſcience to will, and reaſon to chooſe what is good. He has conſtituted him ſole judge of all his actions. He has engraved this precept in his heart, Do whatever you conceive to be for your own good, provided you thereby do no injury to others. If my ſenſations tell me that death is eligible, I reſiſt his orders by an obſtinate re⯑ſolution to live; for, by making death deſira⯑ble, he directs me to put an end to my be⯑ing.
My lord, I appeal to your wiſdom and can⯑dour; what more infallible maxims can rea⯑ſon deduce from religion, with reſpect to ſu⯑icide? If Chriſtians have adopted contrary te⯑nets, they are neither drawn from the prin⯑ciples of religion, nor from the only ſureguide, the Scriptures, but borrowed from the Pagan philoſophers. Lactantius and Auguſtine, the firſt who propagated this new doctrine, of which Jeſus Chriſt and his apoſtles take no notice, ground their arguments entirely on the reaſoning of Phaedo, which I have alrea⯑dy [84] controverted; ſo that the believers, who, in this reſpect, think they are ſupported by the authority of the Goſpel, are in fact only countenaced by the authority of Plato. In truth, where do we find, throughout the whole bible any law againſt ſuicide, or ſo much as a bare diſapprobation of it; and is it not very unaccountable, that among the inſtan⯑ces produced of perſons who devoted them⯑ſelves to death, we do not find the leaſt word of improbation againſt examples of this kind? nay, what is more, the inſtance of Samſon's voluntary death is authorized by a miracle, by which he revenges himſelf of his enemies. Would this miracle have been diſplayed to juſtify a crime; and would this man, who loſt his ſtrength by ſuffering himſelf to be ſeduced by the allurements of a woman, have recovered it to commit an authoriſed crime, as if God himſelf would practice deceit on men?
Thou ſhalt do no murder, ſays the deca⯑logue; what are we to infer from this? if this commandment is to be taken literally, we [85] muſt not deſtroy malefactors, nor our enemies: and Moſes, who put ſo many people to death, was a bad interpreter of his own precept. If there are any exceptions, certainly the firſt muſt be in favour of ſuicide, becauſe it is ex⯑empt from any degree of violence and injuſ⯑tice, the two only circumſtances which can make homicide criminal; and becauſe nature, moreover, has, in this reſpect, thrown ſuffici⯑ent obſtacles in the way.
But ſtill they tell us, we muſt patiently endure the evils which God inflicts, and make a merit of our ſufferings. This appli⯑cation however of the maxims of Chriſtianity, is very ill calculated to ſatisfy our judgment. Man is ſubject to a thouſand troubles, his life is a complication of evils, and he ſeems to have been born only to ſuffer. Reaſon di⯑rects him to ſhun as many of theſe evils as he can avoid; and religion, which is never in contradiction to reaſon, approves of his endea⯑vours. But how inconſiderable is the account of theſe evils, in compariſon with thoſe he is obliged to endure againſt his will? It is with [86] reſpect to theſe, that a merciful God allows man to claim the merit of reſiſtance; he receives the tribute he has been pleaſed to impoſe, as a voluntary homage, and he places our reſigna⯑tion in this life to our profit in the next. True repentance is derived from nature; if man endures whatever he is obliged to ſuffer, he does, in this reſpect, all that God requires of him; and if any one is ſo inflated with pride, as to attempt more, he is a madman, who ought to be confined, or an impoſtor, who ought to be puniſhed. Let us, therefore, with⯑out ſcruple, fly from all the evils we can a⯑void; there will ſtill be too many left for us to endure. Let us, without remorſe, quit life itſelf when it becomes a torment to us, ſince it is in our own power to do it, and that in ſo doing we neither offend God nor man. If we would offer a ſacrifice to the ſupreme Being, is it nothing to undergo death? let us devote to God that which he demands by the voice of reaſon, and into his hands let us peaceably ſurrender our ſouls.
Such are the liberal precepts which good [87] ſenſe dictates to every man, and which religi⯑on authoriſes*. Let us apply theſe precepts to ourſelves. You have condeſcended to diſ⯑cloſe your mind to me; I am acquainted with your uneaſineſs; you do not endure leſs than myſelf; and your troubles, like mine, are incurable; and they are the more remedi⯑leſs, [88] as the laws of honour are more immuta⯑ble than thoſe of fortune. You bear them, I muſt confeſs, with fortitude. Virtue ſupports you; advance but one ſtep farther, and ſhe diſ⯑engages you. You intreat me to ſuffer; my lord, I dare importune you to put an end to your ſufferings; and I leave you to judge which of us is moſt dear to the other.
Why ſhould we delay doing that which we muſt do at laſt? ſhall we wait till old age and decrepid baſeneſs attach us to life, after they have robbed it of its charms, and till we are doomed to drag an infirm and decrepid body with labour, and ignominy, and pain? We are at an age when the ſoul has vigour to diſ⯑engage itſelf with eaſe from its ſhackles, and when a man knows how to die as he ought; when farther advanced in years, he ſuffers himſelf to be torn from life, which he quits with reluctance. Let us take advantage of this time, when the tedium of life makes death deſirable; and let us tremble for fear it ſhould come in all its horrors, at the mo⯑ment when we could wiſh to avoid it. I re⯑member [89] the time, when I prayed to heaven only for a ſingle hour of life, and when I ſhould have died in deſpair if it had not been granted. Ah! what a pain it is to burſt a⯑ſunder the ties which attach our hearts to this world, and how adviſable it is to quit life the moment the connection is broken! I am ſen⯑ſible, my lord, that we are both worthy of a purer manſion; virtue points it out, and deſtiny invites us to ſeek it. May the friend⯑ſhip which invites us preſerve our union to the lateſt hour! O what a pleaſure for two ſin⯑cere friends voluntary to end their days in each others arms, to intermingle their lateſt breath, and at the ſame inſtant to give up the ſoul which they ſhared in common! What pain, what regret can infect their laſt mo⯑ments? What do they quit by taking leave of the world? They go together; they quit no⯑thing.
LETTER CXV.
ANSWER.
[90]THOU art diſtracted, my friend, by a fatal paſſion; be more diſcreet; do not give counſel, whilſt thou ſtandeth ſo much in need of advice. I have known greater e⯑vils than yours. I am armed with fortitude of mind; I am an Engliſhman, and not afraid to die; but I know how to live and ſuffer as be⯑comes a man. I have ſeen death near at hand, and have viewed it with too much indifference to go in ſearch of it.
It is true, I thought you might be of uſe to me; my affection ſtood in need of yours: your endeavours might have been ſerviceable to me; your underſtanding might have en⯑lightened me in the moſt important concern of my life; if I do not avail myſelf of it, who are you to impute it to? Where is it? What [91] is become of it? What are your capable of? Of what uſe can you be in your preſent con⯑dition? What ſervice can I expect from you? A ſenſeleſs grief renders you ſtupid and un⯑concerned. Thou art no man; thou art no⯑thing; and if I did not conſider what thou mighteſt be, I cannot conceive any thing more abject.
There is need of no other proof than your letter itſelf. Formerly I could diſcover in you good ſenſe and truth. Your ſentiments were juſt, your reflections proper, and I liked you not only from judgment but choice; for I conſidered your influence as an additional motive to excite me to the ſtudy of wiſdom. But what do I perceive now in the arguments of your letter, with which you appear to be ſo highly ſatisfied? A wretched and perpetu⯑al ſophiſtry, which in the erroneous deviations of your reaſon ſhews the diſorder of your mind, and which I would not ſtoop to refute, if I did not commiſerate your delirium.
[92] To ſubvert all your reaſoning with one word, I would only aſk you a ſingle queſtion. You who believe in the exiſtence of a God, in the immortality of the ſoul, and in the free⯑will of man, you ſurely cannot ſuppoſe that an intelligent being is embodied, and ſtation⯑ed on the earth by accident only, to exiſt, to ſuffer, and to die. It is certainly moſt pro⯑bable that the life of man is not without ſome deſign, ſome end, ſome moral object. I in⯑treat you to give me a direct anſwer to this point; after which we will deliberately exa⯑mine your letter, and you will bluſh to have written it.
But let us wave all general maxims, about which we often hold violent diſputes, with⯑out adopting any of them in practice; for in their applications we always find ſome parti⯑cular circumſtances which makes ſuch an al⯑teration in the ſtate of things, that every one thinks himſelf diſpenſed from ſubmitting to the rules which he preſcribes to others; and it is well known, that every man who eſta⯑bliſhes [93] general principles deems them obliga⯑tory on all the world, himſelf excepted. Once more let us ſpeak to you in particular.
You believe that you have a right to put an end to your being. Your proof is of a very ſingular nature; ‘"becauſe I am diſpoſed to die, ſay you, I have a right to deſtroy my⯑ſelf."’ This is certainly a very convenient ar⯑gument for villains of all kinds: they ought to be very thankful to you for the arms with which you have furniſhed them; there can be no crimes, which, according to your argu⯑ments, may not be juſtified by the temptation to perpetrate them; and as ſoon as the im⯑petuoſity of paſſion ſhall prevail over the hor⯑ror of guilt, their diſpoſition to do evil will be conſidered as a right to commit it.
Is it lawful for you therefore to quit life? I ſhould be glad to know whether you have begun to live? what! was you placed here on earth to do nothing in this world? did not heaven when it gave you exiſtence give you ſome taſk or employment? If you have [94] accompliſhed your day's work before evening, reſt yourſelf for the remainder of the day; you have a right to do it; but let us ſee your work. What anſwer are you prepared to make the ſupreme Judge, when he demands an account of your time? Tell me, what can you ſay to him?—I have ſeduced a virtu⯑ous girl: I have forſaken a friend in diſ⯑treſs. Thou unhappy wretch! point out to me that juſt man who can boaſt that he has lived long enough; let me learn from him in what manner I ought to have ſpent my days to be at liberty to quit life.
You enumerate the evils of human na⯑ture. You are not aſhamed to exhauſt com⯑mon-place topics, which have been hackney⯑ed over a hundred times; and you conclude that life is an evil. But ſearch, examine into the order of things, and ſee whether you can find any good which is not intermingled with evil. Does it therefore follow that there is no good in the univerſe, and can you confound what is in its own nature evil, with that which is only an evil accidentally? You have [95] confeſſed yourſelf, that the tranſitory and paſſive life of man is of no conſequence, and only bears reſpect to matter from which he will ſoon be diſencumbered; but his active and moral life, which ought to have moſt in⯑fluence over his nature, conſiſts in the exerciſe of free-will. Life is an evil to a wicked man in proſperity, and a bleſſing to an honeſt man in diſtreſs: for it is not its caſual modificati⯑on, but its relation to ſome final object which makes it either good or bad. After all, what are theſe cruel torments which force you to abandon life? do you imagine, that under your affected impartiality in the enumeration of the evils of this life, I did not diſcover that you was aſhamed to ſpeak of your own? Truſt me, and do not at once abandon every virtue. Preſerve at leaſt your wonted ſincerity, and ſpeak thus openly to you friend; ‘"I have loſt all hope of ſeducing a modeſt woman, I am oliged therefore to be a man of virtue; I had much rather die."’
You are weary of living; and you tell me, that life is an evil. Sooner or later you will [96] receive conſolation, and then you will ſay life is a bleſſing. You will ſpeak with more truth, though not with better reaſon; for nothing will have altered but yourſelf. Begin the al⯑teration then from this day; and, ſince all the evil you lament is in the diſpoſition of your mind, correct your irregular appetites, and do not ſet your houſe on fire to avoid the trou⯑ble of putting it in order.
I endure miſery, ſay you: Is it in my pow⯑er to avoid ſuffering? But this is changing the ſtate of the queſtion: for the ſubject of enquiry is, not whether you ſuffer, but whe⯑ther your life is an evil? Let us proceed. You are wretched, you naturally endea⯑vour to extricate yourſelf from miſery. Let us ſee whether, for that purpoſe, it is neceſſary to die.
Let us for a moment examine the natural tendency of the afflictions of the mind, as in direct oppoſition to the evils of the body, the two ſubſtances being of contrary nature. The latter become worſe and more inveterate the [97] longer they continue, and at length utterly deſtroy this mortal machine. The former, on the contrary, being only external and tranſito⯑ry modifications of an immortal and uncom⯑pounded eſſence, are inſenſibly effaced, and leave the mind in its original form, which is not ſuſceptible of alteration. Grief, diſquie⯑tude, regret, and deſpair, are evils of ſhort du⯑ration, which never take root in the mind; and experience always falſifies that bitter re⯑flection, which makes us imagine our miſery will have no end. I will go farther; I can⯑not imagine that the vices which contaminate us, are more inherent in our nature than the troubles we endure; I not only believe that they periſh with the body which gives them birth, but I think, beyond all doubt, that a lon⯑ger life would be ſufficient to reform mankind, and that many ages of youth would teach us that nothing is preferable to virtue.
However this may be, as the greateſt part of our phyſical evils are inceſſantly encreaſing, the acute pains of the body, when they are in⯑curable, may juſtify a man's deſtroying him⯑ſelf; [98] for all his faculties being diſtracted with pain, and the evil being without remedy, he has no longer any uſe either of his will or of his reaſon; he ceaſes to be a man before he is dead, and does nothing more in taking a⯑way his life, than quit a body which incum⯑bers him, and in which his ſoul is no longer reſident.
But it is otherwiſe with the afflictions of the mind, which, let them be ever ſo acute, always carry their remedy with them. In fact, what is it that makes any evil intolerable? Nothing but its duration. The operations of ſurgery are generally much more painful than the diſorders they cure; but the pain occaſion⯑ed by the latter is laſting, that of the operati⯑on is momentary, and therefore preferable. What occaſion is there therefore for any ope⯑ration to remove troubles which die of courſe by their duration, the only circumſtance which could render them inſupportable? Is it reaſonable to apply ſuch deſperate reme⯑dies to evils which expire of themſelves? To a man who values himſelf on his fortitude, [99] and who eſtimates years at their real value, of two ways by which he may extricate himſelf from the ſame troubles, which will appear preferable, death or time? Have patience, and you will be cured. What would you deſire more?
Oh! you will ſay, it doubles my afflictions to reflect that they will ceaſe at laſt! This is the vain ſophiſtry of grief! an apoph⯑thegm void of reaſon, of propriety, and per⯑haps of ſincerity. What an abſurd mo⯑tive of deſpair is the hope of terminating mi⯑ſery*! Even allowing this fantaſtical reflec⯑tion, who would not chuſe to encreaſe the pre⯑ſent pain for a moment, under the aſſurance of putting an end to it, as we ſcarify a wound in order to heal it? and admitting any charm in grief, to make us in love with ſuf⯑fering, [100] when we releaſe ourſelves from it by putting an end to our being, do we not at that inſtant incur all that we apprehend here⯑after?
Reflect thoroughly, young man; what are ten, twenty, thirty years, in competition with immortality? Pain and pleaſure paſs like a ſhadow; life ſlides away in an inſtant; it is nothing of itſelf; its value depends on the uſe we make of it. The good that we have done is all that remains, and it is that alone which marks its importance.
Therefore do not ſay any more that your exiſtence is an evil, ſince it depends upon yourſelf to make it a bleſſing; and if it be an evil to have lived, this is an additional reaſon for prolonging life. Do not pretend neither to ſay any more that you are at liberty to die; for it is as much as to ſay that you have pow⯑er to alter your nature, that you have a right to revolt againſt the author of your being, and to fruſtrate the end of your exiſtence. But when you add, that your death does injury to [101] no one, do you recollect that you make this declaration to your friend?
Your death does injury to no one? I un⯑derſtand you! You think the loſs I ſhall ſuſ⯑tain by your death of no importance; you deem my affliction of no conſequence. I will urge to you no more the rights of friendſhip, which you deſpiſe; but are there not obliga⯑tions ſtill more dear*, which ought to in⯑duce you to preſerve your life? If there be a perſon in the world who loved you to that de⯑gree as to be unwilling to ſurvive you, and whoſe happineſs depends on yours, do you think that you have no obligations to her? Will not the execution of your wicked deſign diſturb the peace of a mind, which has been with ſuch difficulty reſtored to its former in⯑nocence? Are not you afraid to add freſh tor⯑ments to a heart of ſuch ſenſibility? Are not you apprehenſive left your death ſhould be at⯑tended [102] with a loſs more fatal, which would deprive the world and virtue itſelf of its bright⯑eſt ornament? And if ſhe ſhould ſurvive you, are not you afraid to rouſe up remorſe in her boſom, which is more grievous to ſupport than life itſelf? Thou ungrateful friend! thou indelicate lover! wilt thou always be taken up wholly with thyſelf? Wilt thou al⯑ways think on thy own troubles alone? Haſt thou no regard for the happineſs of one who was ſo dear to thee? and cannot thou reſolve to live for her who was willing to die with thee?
You talk of the duties of a magiſtrate, and of a father of a family; and becauſe you are not under thoſe circumſtances, you think your⯑ſelf abſolutely free. And are you then under no obligations to ſociety, to whom you are indebted for your preſervation, your talents, your underſtanding? do you owe nothing to your native country, and to thoſe unhappy people who may need your exiſtence! O what an accurate calculation you make! a⯑mong the obligations you have enumerated, [103] you have only omitted thoſe of a man and of a citizen. Where is the virtuous patriot, who refuſed to enliſt under a foreign prince, becauſe his blood ought not to be ſpilt but in the ſervice of his country; and who now, in a fit of deſpair, is ready to ſhed it againſt the ex⯑preſs prohibition of the laws? The laws, the laws, young man! did any wiſe man ever deſpiſe them? Socrates, though innocent, out of regard to them refuſed to quit his pri⯑ſon. You do not ſcruple to violate them by quitting life unjuſtly; and you aſk, what in⯑jury do I?
You endeavour to juſtify yourſelf by ex⯑ample. You preſume to mention the Romans: you talk of the Romans! it becomes you indeed to cite thoſe illuſtrious names. Tell me, did Brutus die a lover in deſpair, and did Cato plunge the dagger in his breaſt for his miſtreſs? Thou weak and abject man! what reſemblance is there between Cato and thee? Shew me the common ſtandard be⯑tween that ſublime ſoul and thine. Ah vain wretch! hold thy peace: I am afraid to pro⯑fane [104] his name by a vindication of his conduct. At that auguſt and ſacred name every friend to virtue ſhold bow to the ground, and honour the memory of the greateſt hero in ſilence.
How ill you have ſelected your examples, and how meanly you judge of the Romans, if you imagine that they thought themſelves at liberty to quit life ſo ſoon as it became a bur⯑den to them. Recur to the excellent days of that republic, and ſee whether you will find a ſingle citizen of virtue, who thus freed him⯑ſelf from the diſcharge of his duty even after the moſt cruel misfortunes. When Regulus was on his return to Carthage, did he prevent the torments which he knew were preparing for him by deſtroying himſelf? What would not Poſthumus have given, when obliged to paſs under the yoke at Caudium, had this re⯑ſource been juſtifiable? How much did e⯑ven the ſenate admire that effort of courage, which enabled the conſul Varro to ſurvive his defeat? For what reaſon did ſo many gene⯑rals voluntary ſurrender themſelves to their e⯑nemies, they to whom ignominy was ſo dread⯑ful, [105] and who were ſo little afraid of dying? It was becauſe they conſidered their blood, their life, and their lateſt breath, as devoted to their country; and neither ſhame nor misfortune could diſ⯑ſuade them from this ſacred duty. But when the laws were ſubverted, and the ſtate became a prey to tyranny, the citizens reſumed their natural liberty, and the right they had over their own lives. When Rome was no more, it was lawful for the Romans to give up their lives; they had diſcharged their duties on earth, they had no longer any country to defend, they were therefore at liberty to diſpoſe of their lives, and to obtain that freedom for them⯑ſelves which they could not recover for their country. After having ſpent their days in the ſervice of expiring Rome, and in fight⯑ing for the defence of its laws, they died great and virtuous as they had lived, and their death was an additional tribute to the glory of the Roman name, ſince none of them beheld a ſight above all others moſt diſhonourable, that of a true citizen ſtooping to an uſurper.
[106] But thou, what art thou? what haſt thou done? doſt thou think to excuſe thyſelf on ac⯑count of thy obſcurity? does thy weakneſs exempt thee from thy duty, and becauſe thou haſt neither rank nor diſtinction in thy coun⯑try, art thou leſs ſubject to the laws? It becomes you vaſtly to preſume to talk of dy⯑ing, while you owe the ſervice of your life to your equals. Know, that a death, ſuch as you meditate, is ſhameful and ſurreptitious. It is a theft committed on mankind in general. Before you quit life, return the benefits you have received from every individual. But, ſay you, I have no attachments; I am uſeleſs in the world. O thou young philoſopher! art thou ignorant that thou canſt not move a ſingle ſtep without finding ſome duty to ful⯑fil; and that every man is uſeful to ſociety, even by means of his exiſtence alone?
Hear me, thou raſh young man! thou art dear to me. I commiſerate thy errors. If the leaſt ſenſe of virtue ſtill remains in thy breaſt, attend, and let me teach thee to be re⯑conciled [107] to life. Whenever thou art temp⯑ted to quit it, ſay to thyſelf—‘"Let me do at leaſt one good action before I die."’ Then go in ſearch for one in a ſtate of indi⯑gence, whom thou mayeſt relieve; for one un⯑der misfortunes, whom thou mayeſt comfort; for one under oppreſſion, whom thou mayeſt defend. Introduce to me thoſe unhappy wretches whom my rank keeps at a diſtance. Do not be afraid of miſuſing my parle, or my credit: make free with them; diſtribute my fortune; make me rich. If this conſidera⯑tion reſtrains you to-day, it will reſtrain you to-morrow; if to morrow, it will reſtrain you all your life. If it has no power to reſtrain you, die! you are below my care.
Appendix A ERRATA.
- Page 53, line 14, for will, read wiſe.
- 65, line 31, for vitability, read vitality.
Appendix B ARGUMENTS AGAINST SUICIDE.
[]REFLECT on the indiſpenſible duty of preſerving your health and your life. If you be diſtreſſed in mind, live, ſerenity and joy may yet dawn upon your ſoul; if you have been contented and chearful, live, and gene⯑rouſly diffuſe that happineſs to others. If misfortunes have befallen you by your own miſeonduct, live, and be wiſer for the future; if they have befallen you by the fault of others, live, you have nothing wherewith to reproach yourſelf. If you are indigent and helpleſs, live, the face of things may agreeably change; if you are rich and proſperous, live, and enjoy what you poſ⯑ſeſs. If another has injured you, live, his own crime will be his puniſhment; if you have injured another, live, and recompence it by your good offices. If your cha⯑racter be attacked unjuſtly, live, time will remove the aſperſion; if the reproaches are well founded, live, and ceaſe to deſerve them for the future. If you are at preſent obſcure and undiſtinguiſhed, live to be one day more conſpicuous; if you are already eminent and ap⯑plauded, live, and preſerve the honours you have ac⯑quired. If you have been negligent, and uſeleſs to ſo⯑ciety, live, and make amends by your future conduct; if you have been active and induſtrious, live, and communicate your improvements to others. If you have ſpiteful enemies, live, and diſappoint their male⯑volence; if you have kind and faithful friends, live, to bleſs and protect them. If hitherto you have been impious and wicked, live, and repent of your errors; if you have been wiſe and virtuous, live, for the farther benefit of mankind. If you diſbelieve a future ſtate, live, and be uſeful and as happy in this as you can; if you hope for immortality, live, and prepare to enjoy it.
The Binder is deſired to paſte this on the back of page 107.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2016). TEI. 3344 Essays on suicide and the immortality of the soul ascribed to the late David Hume Esq Never before published With remarks intended as an antidote to the poison contained in these performances b. University of Oxford Text Archive. University of Oxford, License: Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License [http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/]. https://hdl.handle.net/11378/0000-0005-D139-F