Thoughts on Man
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With the disciples of the latter of these doctrines I am by no
means specially concerned. I am fully persuaded, as far as the
powers of my understanding can carry me, that the phenomena of
mind are governed by laws altogether as inevitable as the
phenomena of matter, and that the decisions of our will are
always in obedience to the impulse of the strongest motive.
The consequences of the principle implanted in our nature, by
which men of every creed, when they descend into the scene of
busy life, pronounce themselves and their fellow-mortals to be
free agents, are sufficiently memorable.
From hence there springs what we call conscience in man, and a
sense of praise or blame due to ourselves and others for the
actions we perform.
How poor, listless and unenergetic would all our performances be,
but for this sentiment! It is in vain that I should talk to
myself or others, of the necessity of human actions, of the
connection between cause and effect, that all industry, study and
mental discipline will turn to account, and this with infinitely
more security on the principle of necessity, than on the opposite
doctrine, every thing I did would be without a soul. I should
still say, Whatever I may do, whether it be right or wrong, I
cannot help it; wherefore then should I trouble the master-spirit
within me? It is either the calm feeling of self-approbation, or
the more animated swell of the soul, the quick beatings of the
pulse, the enlargement of the heart, the glory sparkling in the
eye, and the blood flushing into the cheek, that sustains me in
all my labours. This turns the man into what we conceive of a
God, arms him with prowess, gives him a more than human courage,
and inspires him with a resolution and perseverance that nothing
can subdue.
In the same manner the love or hatred, affection or alienation,
we entertain for our fellow-men, is mainly referable for its
foundation to the "delusive sense of liberty." "We approve of a
sharp knife rather than a blunt one, because its capacity is
greater. We approve of its being employed in carving food,
rather than in maiming men or other animals, because that
application of its capacity is preferable. But all approbation
or preference is relative to utility or general good. A knife is
as capable as a man, of being employed in purposes of utility;
and the one is no more free than the other as to its employment.
The mode in which a knife is made subservient to these purposes,
is by material impulse. The mode in which a man is made
subservient, is by inducement and persuasion. But both are
equally the affair of necessity[28]." These are the sentiments
dictated to us by the doctrine of the necessity of human actions.
[28] Political Justice, Book IV, Chap. VIII.
But how different are the feelings that arise within us, as soon
as we enter into the society of our fellow-creatures! "The end
of the commandment is love." It is the going forth of the heart
towards those to whom we are bound by the ties of a common
nature, affinity, sympathy or worth, that is the luminary of the
moral world. Without it there would have been "a huge eclipse of
sun and moon;" or at best, as a well-known writer[29] expresses
it in reference to another subject, we should have lived in "a
silent and drab-coloured creation." We are prepared by the power
that made us for feelings and emotions; and, unless these come to
diversify and elevate our existence, we should waste our days in
melancholy, and scarcely be able to sustain ourselves. The
affection we entertain for those towards whom our partiality and
kindness are excited, is the life of our life. It is to this we
are indebted for all our refinement, and, in the noblest sense of
the word, for all our humanity. Without it we should have had no
sentiment (a word, however abused, which, when properly defined,
comprises every thing that is the crown of our nature), and no
poetry.--Love and hatred, as they regard our fellow-creatures, in
contradistinction to the complacency, or the feeling of an
opposite nature, which is excited in us towards inanimate
objects, arc entirely the offspring of the delusive sense of
liberty.
[29] Thomas Paine.
The terms, praise and blame, express to a great degree the same
sentiments as those of love and hatred, with this difference,
that praise and blame in their simplest sense apply to single
actions, whereas love and hatred are produced in us by the sum of
those actions or tendencies, which constitute what we call
character. There is also another difference, that love and
hatred are engendered in us by other causes as well as moral
qualities; but praise and blame, in the sense in which they are
peculiarly applied to our fellow-mortals, are founded on moral
qualities only. In love and hatred however, when they are
intense or are lasting, some reference to moral qualities is
perhaps necessarily implied. The love between the sexes, unless
in cases where it is of a peculiarly transient nature, always
comprises in it a belief that the party who is the object of our
love, is distinguished by tendencies of an amiable nature, which
we expect to see manifesting themselves in affectionate
attentions and acts of kindness. Even the admiration we
entertain for the features, the figure, and personal graces of
the object of our regard, is mixed with and heightened by our
expectation of actions and tones that generate approbation, and,
if divested of this, would be of small signification or
permanence. In like manner in the ties of affinity, or in cases
where we are impelled by the consideration, "He also is a man as
well as I," the excitement will carry us but a little way, unless
we discover in the being towards whom we are moved some
peculiarities which may beget a moral partiality and regard.
And, as towards our fellow-creatures, so in relation to
ourselves, our moral sentiments are all involved with, and take
their rise in, the delusive sense of liberty. It is in this that
is contained the peculiar force of the terms virtue, duty, guilt
and desert. We never pronounce these words without thinking of
the action to which they refer, as that which might or might not
be done, and therefore unequivocally approve or disapprove in
ourselves and others. A virtuous man, as the term is understood
by all, as soon as we are led to observe upon those qualities,
and the exhibition of those qualities in actual life, which
constitute our nature, is a man who, being in full possession of
the freedom of human action, is engaged in doing those things
which a sound judgment of the tendencies of what we do pronounces
to be good.
Duty is a term that can scarcely be said to have a meaning,
except that which it derives from the delusive sense of liberty.
According to the creed of the necessarian, it expresses that mode
of action on the part of the individual, which constitutes the
best possible application of his capacity to the general
benefit[30]. In the mean time, if we confine ourselves to this
definition, it may as well be taken to describe the best
application of a knife, or any other implement proceeding from
the hands of the manufacturer, as of the powers of a human being.
But we surely have a very different idea in our minds, when we
employ the term duty. It is not agreeable to the use of language
that we should use this term, except we speak of a being in the
exercise of volition.
[30] Political Justice, Book II, Chap. IV.
Duty then means that which may justly be required of a human
creature in the possession of liberty of action. It includes in
its proper sense the conception of the empire of will, the notion
that mind is an arbiter, that it sits on its throne, and decides,
as an absolute prince, this way or that.
Duty is the performance of what is due, the discharge of a debt
(debitum). But a knife owes nothing, and can in no sense be said
to be held to one sort of application rather than another; the
debt can only belong to a human being in possession of his
liberty, by whom the knife may be applied laudably or otherwise.
A multitude of terms instantly occur to us, the application of
which is limited in the same manner as the term duty is limited:
such are, to owe, obligation, debt, bond, right, claim, sin,
crime, guilt, merit and desert. Even reward and punishment,
however they may be intelligible when used merely in the sense of
motives employed, have in general acceptation a sense peculiarly
derived from the supposed freedom of the human will.
The mode therefore in which the advocates of the doctrine of
necessity have universally talked and written, is one of the most
memorable examples of the hallucination of the human intellect.
They have at all times recommended that we should translate the
phrases in which we usually express ourselves on the hypothesis
of liberty, into the phraseology of necessity, that we should
talk no other language than that which is in correspondence with
the severest philosophy, and that we should exert ourselves to
expel all fallacious notions and delusions so much as from our
recollection. They did not perceive what a wide devastation and
destruction they were proposing of all the terms and phrases that
are in use in the communications between man and man in actual
life.--They might as well have recommended that we should
rigorously bear in mind on the ordinary occasions of life, that
there is no such thing as colour, that which we ordinary call by
that name having no existence in external objects, but belonging
only to our way of perceiving them.
The language which is suggested to us by the conception of the
freedom of human actions, moulds the very first articulations of
a child, "I will," and "I will not;" and is even distinctly
conveyed by his gestures, before he arrives at the power of
articulation. This is the explanation and key to his vehement
and ungovernable movements, and his rebellion. The petulance of
the stripling, the fervent and energetic exertions of the
warrior, and the calm and unalterable resolution of the sage, all
imply the same thing. Will, and a confidence in its efficiency,
"travel through, nor quit us till we die." It is this which
inspires us with invincible perseverance, and heroic energies,
while without it we should be the most inert and soulless of
blocks, the shadows of what history records and poetry
immortalises, and not men.
Free will is an integral part of the science of man, and may be
said to constitute its most important chapter. We might with as
much propriety overlook the intelligence of the senses, that
medium which acquaints us with an external world or what we call
such, we might as well overlook the consideration of man's
reason, his imagination or taste, as fail to dwell with earnest
reflection and exposition upon that principle which lies at the
foundation of our moral energies, fills us with a moral
enthusiasm, prompts all our animated exertions on the theatre of
the world, whether upon a wide or a narrow scale, and penetrates
us with the most lively and fervent approbation or disapprobation
of the acts of ourselves and others in which the forwarding or
obstructing human happiness is involved.
But, though the language of the necessarian is at war with the
indestructible feelings of the human mind, and though his
demonstrations will for ever crumble into dust, when brought to
the test of the activity of real life, yet his doctrines, to the
reflecting and enlightened, will by no means be without their
use. In the sobriety of the closet, we inevitably assent to his
conclusions; nor is it easy to conceive how a rational man and a
philosopher abstractedly can entertain a doubt of the necessity
of human actions. And the number of these persons is perpetually
increasing; enlarged and dispassionate views of the nature of man
and the laws of the universe are rapidly spreading in the world.
We cannot indeed divest ourselves of love and hatred, of the
sentiments of praise and blame, and the ideas of virtue, duty,
obligation, debt, bond, right, claim, sin, crime, guilt, merit
and desert. And, if we could do so, the effects would be most
pernicious, and the world be rendered a blank. We shall however
unquestionably, as our minds grow enlarged, be brought to the
entire and unreserved conviction, that man is a machine, that he
is governed by external impulses, and is to be regarded as the
medium only through the intervention of which previously existing
causes are enabled to produce certain effects. We shall see,
according to an expressive phrase, that he "could not help it,"
and, of consequence, while we look down from the high tower of
philosophy upon the scene of human affairs, our prevailing
emotion will be pity, even towards the criminal, who, from the
qualities he brought into the world, and the various
circumstances which act upon him from infancy, and form his
character, is impelled to be the means of the evils, which we
view with so profound disapprobation, and the existence of which
we so entirely regret.
There is an old axiom of philosophy, which counsels us to "think
with the learned, and talk with the vulgar;" and the practical
application of this axiom runs through the whole scene of human
affairs. Thus the most learned astronomer talks of the rising
and setting of the sun, and forgets in his ordinary discourse
that the earth is not for ever at rest, and does not constitute
the centre of the universe. Thus, however we reason respecting
the attributes of inanimate matter and the nature of sensation,
it never occurs to us, when occupied with the affairs of actual
life, that there is no heat in fire, and no colour in the
rainbow.
In like manner, when we contemplate the acts of ourselves and our
neighbours, we can never divest ourselves of the delusive sense
of the liberty of human actions, of the sentiment of conscience,
of the feelings of love and hatred, the impulses of praise and
blame, and the notions of virtue, duty, obligation, right, claim,
guilt, merit and desert. And it has sufficiently appeared in the
course of this Essay, that it is not desirable that we should do
so. They are these ideas to which the world we live in is
indebted for its crowning glory and greatest lustre. They form
the highest distinction between men and other animals, and are
the genuine basis of self-reverence, and the conceptions of true
nobility and greatness, and the reverse of these attributes, in
the men with whom we live, and the men whose deeds are recorded
in the never-dying page of history.
But, though the doctrine of the necessity of human actions can
never form the rule of our intercourse with others, it will still
have its use. It will moderate our excesses, and point out to us
that middle path of judgment which the soundest philosophy
inculcates. We shall learn, according to the apostolic precept,
to "be angry, and sin not, neither let the sun go down upon our
wrath." We shall make of our fellow-men neither idols to
worship, nor demons to be regarded with horror and execration.
We shall think of them, as of players, "that strut and fret their
hour upon the stage, and then are heard no more." We shall
"weep, as though we wept not, and rejoice, as though we rejoiced
not, seeing that the fashion of this world passeth away." And,
most of all, we shall view with pity, even with sympathy, the men
whose frailties we behold, or by whom crimes are perpetrated,
satisfied that they are parts of one great machine, and, like
ourselves, are driven forward by impulses over which they have no
real control.
ESSAY XIII.
OF BELIEF.
One of the prerogatives by which man is eminently distinguished
from all other living beings inhabiting this globe of earth,
consists in the gift of reason.
Beasts reason. They are instructed by experience; and, guided by
what they have already known of the series of events, they infer
from the sense of what has gone before, an assured expectation of
what is to follow. Hence, "beast walks with man, joint tenant of
the shade;" and their sagacity is in many instances more unerring
than ours, because they have no affectation to mislead them; they
follow no false lights, no glimmering intimation of something
half-anticipating a result, but trust to the plain, blunt and
obvious dictates of their simple apprehension. This however is
but the first step in the scale of reason, and is in strictness
scarcely entitled to the name.
We set off from the same point from which they commence their
career. But the faculty of articulate speech comes in, enabling
us to form the crude elements of reason and inference into a
code. We digest explanations of things, assigning the
particulars in which they resemble other classes, and the
particulars by which they are distinguished from whatever other
classes have fallen under our notice. We frame propositions,
and, detaching ourselves from the immediate impressions of sense,
proceed to generalities, which exist only, in a way confused, and
not distinctly adverted to, in the conceptions of the animal
creation.
It is thus that we arrive at science, and go forward to those
subtleties, and that perspicuity of explanation, which place man
in a distinct order of being, leaving all the other inhabitants
of earth at an immeasurable distance below him. It is thus that
we communicate our discoveries to each other, and hand down the
knowledge we have acquired, unimpaired and entire, through
successive ages, and to generations yet unborn.
But in certain respects we pay a very high price for this
distinction. It is to it that we must impute all the follies,
extravagances and hallucinations of human intellect. There is
nothing so absurd that some man has not affirmed, rendering
himself the scorn and laughing-stock of persons of sounder
understanding. And, which is worst, the more ridiculous and
unintelligible is the proposition he has embraced, the more
pertinaciously does he cling to it; so that creeds the most
outrageous and contradictory have served as the occasion or
pretext for the most impassioned debates, bloody wars, inhuman
executions, and all that most deeply blots and dishonours the
name of man--while often, the more evanescent and frivolous are
the distinctions, the more furious and inexpiable have been the
contentions they have produced.
The result of the whole, in the vast combinations of men into
tribes and nations, is, that thousands and millions believe, or
imagine they believe, propositions and systems, the terms of
which they do not fully understand, and the evidence of which
they have not considered. They believe, because so their fathers
believed before them. No phrase is more commonly heard than, "I
was born a Christian;" "I was born a Catholic, or a Protestant."
The priest continues what the nurse began,
And thus the child imposes on the man.
But this sort of belief forms no part of the subject of the
present Essay. My purpose is to confine myself to the
consideration of those persons, who in some degree, more or less,
exercise the reasoning faculty in the pursuit of truth, and,
having attempted to examine the evidence of an interesting and
weighty proposition, satisfy themselves that they have arrived at
a sound conclusion.
It is however the rarest thing in the world, for any one to found
his opinion, simply upon the evidence that presents itself to him
of the truth of the proposition which comes before him to be
examined. Where is the man that breaks loose from all the
shackles that in his youth had been imposed upon hills, and says
to Truth, "Go on; whithersoever thou leadest, I am prepared to
follow?" To weigh the evidence for and against a proposition, in
scales so balanced, that the "division of the twentieth part of
one poor scruple, the estimation of a hair," shall be recognised
and submitted to, is the privilege of a mind of no ordinary
fairness and firmness.
The Scriptures say "The heart of man is deceitful above all
things." The thinking principle within us is so subtle, has
passed through so many forms of instruction, and is under the
influence and direction of such a variety of causes, that no man
can accurately pronounce by what impulse he has been led to the
conclusion in which he finally reposes. Every ingenuous person,
who is invited to embrace a certain profession, that of the
church for example, will desire, preparatorily to his final
determination, to examine the evidences and the merits of the
religion he embraces, that he may enter upon his profession under
the influence of a sincere conviction, and be inspired with that
zeal, in singleness of heart, which can alone prevent his
vocation from being disgraceful to him. Yet how many motives are
there, constraining him to abide in an affirmative conclusion?
His friends expect this from him. Perhaps his own inclination
leads him to select this destination rather than any other.
Perhaps preferment and opulence wait upon his decision. If the
final result of his enquiries lead him to an opposite judgment,
to how much obloquy will he be exposed! Where is the man who
can say that no unconscious bias has influenced him in the
progress of his investigation? Who shall pronounce that, under
very different circumstances, his conclusions would not have been
essentially other than they are?
But the enquiry of an active and a searching mind does not
terminate on a certain day. He will be for ever revising and
reconsidering his first determinations. It is one of the leading
maxims of an honourable mind, that we must be, at all times, and
to the last hour of our existence, accessible to conviction built
upon new evidence, or upon evidence presented in a light in which
it had not before been viewed. If then the probationer for the
clerical profession was under some bias in his first
investigation, how must it be expected to be with him, when he
has already taken the vow, and received ordination? Can he with
a calm and unaltered spirit contemplate the possibility, that the
ground shall be cut away from under him, and that, by dint of
irrefragable argument, he shall be stripped of his occupation,
and turned out naked and friendless into the world?
But this is only one of the broadest and most glaring instances.
In every question of paramount importance there is ever a secret
influence urging me earnestly to desire to find one side of the
question right and the other wrong. Shall I be a whig or a tory,
believe a republic or a mixed monarchy most conducive to the
improvement and happiness of mankind, embrace the creed of free
will or necessity? There is in all cases a "strong temptation
that waketh in the heart." Cowardice urges me to become the
adherent of that creed, which is espoused by my nearest friends,
or those who are most qualified to serve me. Enterprise and a
courageous spirit on the contrary bid me embrace the tenet, the
embracing of which shall most conduce to my reputation for
extraordinary perspicuity and acuteness, and gain me the
character of an intrepid adventurer, a man who dares commit
himself to an unknown voyage.
In the question of religion, even when the consideration of the
profession of an ecclesiastic does not occur, yet we are taught
to believe that there is only one set of tenets that will lead us
in the way of salvation. Faith is represented as the first of
all qualifications. "If I had not come and spoken unto them,
they had not had sin." With what heart then does a man set
himself to examine, and scrupulously weigh the evidence on one
side and the other, when some undiscerned frailty, some secret
bias that all his care cannot detect, may lurk within, and insure
for him the "greater condemnation?" I well remember in early
life, with what tingling sensation and unknown horror I looked
into the books of the infidels and the repositories of unlawful
tenets, lest I should be seduced. I held it my duty to "prove
all things;" but I knew not how far it might be my fate; to
sustain the penalty attendant even upon an honourable and
virtuous curiousity.
It is one of the most received arguments of the present day
against religious persecution, that the judgments we form are not
under the authority of our will, and that, for what it is not in
our power to change, it is unjust we should be punished: and
there is much truth in this. But it is not true to the fullest
extent. The sentiments we shall entertain, are to a considerable
degree at the disposal of inticements on the one side, and of
menaces and apprehension on the other. That which we wish to
believe, we are already greatly in progress to embrace; and that
which will bring upon us disgrace and calamity, we are more than
half prepared to reject. Persecution however is of very
equivocal power: we cannot embrace one faith and reject another
at the word of command.
It is a curious question to decide how far punishments and
rewards may be made effectual to determine the religion of
nations and generations of men. They are often unsuccessful.
There is a feeling in the human heart, that prompts us to reject
with indignation this species of tyranny. We become more
obstinate in clinging to that which we are commanded to discard.
We place our honour and our pride in the firmness of our
resistance. "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the
church." Yet there is often great efficacy in persecution. It
was the policy of the court of Versailles that brought almost to
nothing the Huguenots of France. And there is a degree of
persecution, if the persecuting party has the strength and the
inexorableness to employ it, that it is perhaps beyond the
prowess of human nature to stand up against.
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