Particular Providence and the Afterlife

102. I was lately engaged in conversation with a friend who loves sceptical paradoxes; where, though he advanced many principles, of which I can by no means approve, yet as they seem to be curious, and to bear some relation to the chain of reasoning carried on throughout this enquiry, I shall here copy them from my memory as accurately as I can, in order to submit them to the judgement of the reader.

102. I recently spoke with a friend who loves skeptical paradoxes. He put forward many principles that I cannot approve of. Still, these principles seem interesting and related to the line of reasoning in this enquiry. So I will recall them as accurately as I can and leave them to the reader's judgment.

Our conversation began with my admiring the singular good fortune of philosophy, which, as it requires entire liberty above all other privileges, and chiefly flourishes from the free opposition of sentiments and argumentation, received its first birth in an age and country of freedom and toleration, and was never cramped, even in its most extravagant principles, by any creeds, concessions, or penal statutes. For, except the banishment of Protagoras, and the death of Socrates, which last event proceeded partly from other motives, there are scarcely any instances to be met with, in ancient history, of this bigotted jealousy, with which the present age is so much infested. Epicurus lived at Athens to an advanced age, in peace and tranquillity: Epicureans²⁷ were even admitted to receive the sacerdotal character, and to officiate at the altar, in the most sacred rites of the established religion: And the public encouragement²⁸ of pensions and salaries was afforded equally, by the wisest of all the Roman emperors²⁹, to the professors of every sect of philosophy. How requisite such kind of treatment was to philosophy, in her early youth, will easily be conceived, if we reflect, that, even at present, when she may be supposed more hardy and robust, she bears with much difficulty the inclemency of the seasons, and those harsh winds of calumny and persecution, which blow upon her.

Our conversation began with my admiration for philosophy’s remarkable good fortune. Above all other privileges, philosophy requires complete freedom. It flourishes chiefly through the free exchange of opposing views and arguments. Yet it was born in a time and country of freedom and tolerance. Even its most extravagant principles were never restricted by creeds, declarations of belief, or laws imposing penalties. Ancient history offers hardly any examples of the bigoted suspicion so widespread in our own age. The exceptions are the banishment of Protagoras and the death of Socrates. Even Socrates’ death arose partly from other motives. Epicurus lived peacefully and quietly in Athens to an advanced age. Epicureans²⁷ were even allowed to become priests and serve at the altar in the most sacred rites of the established religion. And the wisest of all Roman emperors²⁹ publicly supported teachers of every philosophical school equally, providing pensions and salaries²⁸. We can easily see how necessary such treatment was to philosophy in its early youth. Even now, when philosophy may be thought hardier and stronger, it has great difficulty enduring the harsh seasons. It also struggles against the fierce winds of slander and persecution that blow upon it.

You admire, says my friend, as the singular good fortune of philosophy, what seems to result from the natural course of things, and to be unavoidable in every age and nation. This pertinacious bigotry, of which you complain, as so fatal to philosophy, is really her offspring, who, after allying with superstition, separates himself entirely from the interest of his parent, and becomes her most inveterate enemy and persecutor. Speculative dogmas of religion, the present occasions of such furious dispute, could not possibly be conceived or admitted in the early ages of the world; when mankind, being wholly illiterate, formed an idea of religion more suitable to their weak apprehension, and composed their sacred tenets of such tales chiefly as were the objects of traditional belief, more than of argument or disputation. After the first alarm, therefore, was over, which arose from the new paradoxes and principles of the philosophers; these teachers seem ever after, during the ages of antiquity, to have lived in great harmony with the established superstition, and to have made a fair partition of mankind between them; the former claiming all the learned and wise, the latter possessing all the vulgar and illiterate.

You admire what you call philosophy’s extraordinarily good fortune, says my friend. But it seems to follow naturally from the course of events and to be unavoidable in every age and nation. You complain that stubborn bigotry is so fatal to philosophy. Yet bigotry is really philosophy’s offspring. After joining forces with superstition, bigotry abandons its parent’s interests entirely and becomes her most bitter enemy and persecutor. The abstract religious doctrines that now cause such furious disputes could not possibly have been imagined or accepted in the world’s early ages. At that time, people were wholly illiterate and formed an idea of religion better suited to their limited understanding. Their sacred beliefs consisted chiefly of tales accepted by tradition rather than debated or disputed. The philosophers’ new paradoxes and principles caused alarm at first. Once that alarm had passed, however, these teachers seem to have lived in great harmony with the established superstition throughout antiquity. They also seem to have divided humanity fairly between them. The philosophers claimed all the learned and wise, while superstition held all the common and illiterate people.

103. It seems then, say I, that you leave politics entirely out of the question, and never suppose, that a wise magistrate can justly be jealous of certain tenets of philosophy, such as those of Epicurus, which, denying a divine existence, and consequently a providence and a future state, seem to loosen, in a great measure, the ties of morality, and may be supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the peace of civil society.

103. It seems, then, I say, that you leave politics entirely out of the question. You never consider that a wise magistrate might justly be wary of certain philosophical doctrines, such as those of Epicurus. These doctrines deny the existence of a god and, consequently, divine providence and an afterlife. They seem to weaken moral obligations to a great extent. For that reason, they may be thought harmful to the peace of civil society.

I know, replied he, that in fact these persecutions never, in any age, proceeded from calm reason, or from experience of the pernicious consequences of philosophy; but arose entirely from passion and prejudice. But what if I should advance farther, and assert, that if Epicurus had been accused before the people, by any of the sycophants or informers of those days, he could easily have defended his cause, and proved his principles of philosophy to be as salutary as those of his adversaries, who endeavoured, with such zeal, to expose him to the public hatred and jealousy?

“I know,” he replied, “that these persecutions have never, in any age, come from calm reasoning. Nor have they come from experience of philosophy’s harmful consequences. They have arisen entirely from passion and prejudice. But what if I went further? Suppose that one of the sycophants or informers of those days had accused Epicurus before the people. He could easily have defended himself. He could have shown that his philosophical principles were just as beneficial as those of his opponents. Yet those opponents were so eager to make the public hate and distrust him.”

I wish, said I, you would try your eloquence upon so extraordinary a topic, and make a speech for Epicurus, which might satisfy, not the mob of Athens, if you will allow that ancient and polite city to have contained any mob, but the more philosophical part of his audience, such as might be supposed capable of comprehending his arguments.

I said, I wish you would test your eloquence on such an extraordinary subject. Give a speech for Epicurus that would satisfy the more philosophical members of his audience, not the Athenian mob. That is, if you will allow that such an ancient and civilized city had any mob at all. I mean those listeners who could be expected to understand his arguments.

The matter would not be difficult, upon such conditions, replied he: And if you please, I shall suppose myself Epicurus for a moment, and make you stand for the Athenian people, and shall deliver you such an harangue as will fill all the urn with white beans, and leave not a black one to gratify the malice of my adversaries.

That would not be difficult under those conditions, he replied. If you like, I will imagine myself as Epicurus for a moment and have you stand for the Athenian people. I will give you a speech that will fill the voting urn with white beans. It will leave no black bean to satisfy the malice of my opponents.

Very well: Pray proceed upon these suppositions.

Very well. Please continue on the basis of these assumptions.

104. I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly what I maintained in my school, and I find myself impeached by furious antagonists, instead of reasoning with calm and dispassionate enquirers. Your deliberations, which of right should be directed to questions of public good, and the interest of the commonwealth, are diverted to the disquisitions of speculative philosophy; and these magnificent, but perhaps fruitless enquiries, take place of your more familiar but more useful occupations. But so far as in me lies, I will prevent this abuse. We shall not here dispute concerning the origin and government of worlds. We shall only enquire how far such questions concern the public interest. And if I can persuade you, that they are entirely indifferent to the peace of society and security of government, I hope that you will presently send us back to our schools, there to examine, at leisure, the question the most sublime, but at the same time, the most speculative of all philosophy.

104. I come here, Athenians, to defend before your assembly what I taught in my school. Instead of reasoning with calm and impartial inquirers, I find myself accused by furious opponents. Your deliberations should rightly concern the public good and the interests of the commonwealth. Instead, they have turned to questions of speculative philosophy. These grand but perhaps fruitless inquiries have taken the place of your more familiar but more useful work. But I will do what I can to prevent this misuse of your time. We will not debate the origin and governance of worlds here. We will ask only how far such questions affect the public interest. If I can persuade you that they have no bearing on social peace or the security of government, I hope you will send us back to our schools at once. There we can examine at leisure the most sublime question in all philosophy, but also the most speculative.

The religious philosophers, not satisfied with the tradition of your forefathers, and doctrine of your priests (in which I willingly acquiesce), indulge a rash curiosity, in trying how far they can establish religion upon the principles of reason; and they thereby excite, instead of satisfying, the doubts, which naturally arise from a diligent and scrutinous enquiry. They paint, in the most magnificent colours, the order, beauty, and wise arrangement of the universe; and then ask, if such a glorious display of intelligence could proceed from the fortuitous concourse of atoms, or if chance could produce what the greatest genius can never sufficiently admire. I shall not examine the justness of this argument. I shall allow it to be as solid as my antagonists and accusers can desire. It is sufficient, if I can prove, from this very reasoning, that the question is entirely speculative, and that, when, in my philosophical disquisitions, I deny a providence and a future state, I undermine not the foundations of society, but advance principles, which they themselves, upon their own topics, if they argue consistently, must allow to be solid and satisfactory.

Religious philosophers are not satisfied with the traditions of your ancestors and the teachings of your priests. I willingly accept both. But these philosophers indulge a reckless curiosity, trying to see how far reason can establish religion. Instead of settling the doubts that naturally arise from careful and searching inquiry, they stir them up. They describe the order, beauty, and wise arrangement of the universe in the most magnificent terms. Then they ask whether such a glorious display of intelligence could come from a chance gathering of atoms. Could chance produce something that even the greatest genius can never admire enough? I will not examine whether this argument is sound. I will grant that it is as solid as my opponents and accusers could wish. It is enough if I can use their own reasoning to prove that the question is purely speculative. When I deny divine providence and a future life in my philosophical inquiries, I do not undermine the foundations of society. Instead, I put forward principles that my opponents themselves must accept as solid and satisfactory, if they argue consistently from their own premises.

105. You then, who are my accusers, have acknowledged, that the chief or sole argument for a divine existence (which I never questioned) is derived from the order of nature; where there appear such marks of intelligence and design, that you think it extravagant to assign for its cause, either chance, or the blind and unguided force of matter. You allow, that this is an argument drawn from effects to causes. From the order of the work, you infer, that there must have been project and forethought in the workman. If you cannot make out this point, you allow, that your conclusion fails; and you pretend not to establish the conclusion in a greater latitude than the phenomena of nature will justify. These are your concessions. I desire you to mark the consequences.

105. You, my accusers, have acknowledged that the chief or only argument for God’s existence comes from nature’s order. I have never questioned God’s existence. Nature shows such signs of intelligence and design that you think it absurd to attribute its order to chance. You also think it absurd to attribute nature’s order to the blind, unguided force of matter. You agree that this argument moves from effects to causes. From the order of the work, you infer that the maker must have planned and thought ahead. You agree that, if you cannot establish this point, your conclusion fails. You do not claim to establish any conclusion beyond what the evidence of nature justifies. These are your concessions. I ask you to consider their consequences.

When we infer any particular cause from an effect, we must proportion the one to the other, and can never be allowed to ascribe to the cause any qualities, but what are exactly sufficient to produce the effect. A body of ten ounces raised in any scale may serve as a proof, that the counterbalancing weight exceeds ten ounces; but can never afford a reason that it exceeds a hundred. If the cause, assigned for any effect, be not sufficient to produce it, we must either reject that cause, or add to it such qualities as will give it a just proportion to the effect. But if we ascribe to it farther qualities, or affirm it capable of producing other effects, we can only indulge the licence of conjecture, and arbitrarily suppose the existence of qualities and energies, without reason or authority.

When we infer a particular cause from an effect, we must match the cause to the effect. We can attribute to the cause only the qualities needed to produce that effect. Suppose a weight on a scale lifts a ten-ounce object. This may prove that the counterweight exceeds ten ounces, but it can never prove that it exceeds a hundred. If the proposed cause of an effect is not sufficient to produce it, we must reject that cause. Or we must add qualities that make the cause sufficient to produce the effect. But we might attribute further qualities to the cause, or claim that it can produce other effects. Then we are merely indulging in conjecture. We are arbitrarily assuming that the cause has qualities and powers without reason or grounds.

The same rule holds, whether the cause assigned be brute unconscious matter, or a rational intelligent being. If the cause be known only by the effect, we never ought to ascribe to it any qualities, beyond what are precisely requisite to produce the effect: Nor can we, by any rules of just reasoning, return back from the cause, and infer other effects from it, beyond those by which alone it is known to us. No one, merely from the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures, could know, that he was also a statuary or architect, and was an artist no less skilful in stone and marble than in colours. The talents and taste, displayed in the particular work before us; these we may safely conclude the workman to be possessed of. The cause must be proportioned to the effect; and if we exactly and precisely proportion it, we shall never find in it any qualities, that point farther, or afford an inference concerning any other design or performance. Such qualities must be somewhat beyond what is merely requisite for producing the effect, which we examine.

The same rule applies whether the supposed cause is unconscious matter or a rational, intelligent being. If we know a cause only by its effect, we should attribute to it only the qualities needed to produce that effect. Nor can we reason soundly from that cause to other effects, beyond those through which alone we know it. No one could look at one of Zeuxis's paintings and know from that alone that he was also a sculptor or architect. Nor could anyone know that he was as skilled with stone and marble as with paints. We can safely conclude that the artist has the talent and taste shown in the particular work before us. The cause must be proportionate to the effect. If we match the cause exactly to the effect, we will never find qualities in the cause that point any further. Nor will we find qualities that let us infer anything about any other design or work. Such qualities would have to go beyond what is needed to produce the effect we are examining.

106. Allowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the existence or order of the universe; it follows, that they possess that precise degree of power, intelligence, and benevolence, which appears in their workmanship; but nothing farther can ever be proved, except we call in the assistance of exaggeration and flattery to supply the defects of argument and reasoning. So far as the traces of any attributes, at present, appear, so far may we conclude these attributes to exist. The supposition of farther attributes is mere hypothesis; much more the supposition, that, in distant regions of space or periods of time, there has been, or will be, a more magnificent display of these attributes, and a scheme of administration more suitable to such imaginary virtues. We can never be allowed to mount up from the universe, the effect, to Jupiter, the cause; and then descend downwards, to infer any new effect from that cause; as if the present effects alone were not entirely worthy of the glorious attributes, which we ascribe to that deity. The knowledge of the cause being derived solely from the effect, they must be exactly adjusted to each other; and the one can never refer to anything farther, or be the foundation of any new inference and conclusion.

106. Suppose, then, that the gods created the universe or established its order. It follows that they possess exactly the degree of power, intelligence, and benevolence visible in their work. But nothing more can ever be proved, unless we use exaggeration and flattery to make up for faulty argument and reasoning. We may conclude that these qualities exist only as far as we can now see signs of them. To suppose that the gods possess further qualities is mere speculation. It is even more speculative to suppose that these qualities have been or will be displayed more magnificently in distant regions of space or periods of time. The same is true of supposing that the universe has been or will be governed in a way better suited to such imagined virtues. We can never reason from the universe, the effect, up to Jupiter, the cause, and then reason back down from Jupiter to infer some new effect. That would be as if the effects we see now were not fully worthy of the glorious qualities we attribute to Jupiter. Our knowledge of the cause comes entirely from the effect. The cause and effect must therefore correspond exactly. Neither can point beyond the other or serve as the basis for any new inference or conclusion.

You find certain phenomena in nature. You seek a cause or author. You imagine that you have found him. You afterwards become so enamoured of this offspring of your brain, that you imagine it impossible, but he must produce something greater and more perfect than the present scene of things, which is so full of ill and disorder. You forget, that this superlative intelligence and benevolence are entirely imaginary, or, at least, without any foundation in reason; and that you have no ground to ascribe to him any qualities, but what you see he has actually exerted and displayed in his productions. Let your gods, therefore, O philosophers, be suited to the present appearances of nature: and presume not to alter these appearances by arbitrary suppositions, in order to suit them to the attributes, which you so fondly ascribe to your deities.

You observe certain phenomena in nature. You look for a cause or creator and imagine that you have found him. Then you become so enamored of this creation of your own mind that you imagine he must produce something greater and more perfect than the present world. You think this must be so because the world is so full of evil and disorder. You forget that this supreme intelligence and goodness are entirely imaginary, or at least have no basis in reason. You also forget that you have no grounds for attributing any qualities to him except those he has actually shown in his creations. So, philosophers, let your gods fit what we now see in nature. Do not presume to change what we see through arbitrary assumptions to make it fit the qualities you so fondly attribute to your gods.

107. When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O Athenians, talk of a golden or silver age, which preceded the present state of vice and misery, I hear them with attention and with reverence. But when philosophers, who pretend to neglect authority, and to cultivate reason, hold the same discourse, I pay them not, I own, the same obsequious submission and pious deference. I ask; who carried them into the celestial regions, who admitted them into the councils of the gods, who opened to them the book of fate, that they thus rashly affirm, that their deities have executed, or will execute, any purpose beyond what has actually appeared? If they tell me, that they have mounted on the steps or by the gradual ascent of reason, and by drawing inferences from effects to causes, I still insist, that they have aided the ascent of reason by the wings of imagination; otherwise they could not thus change their manner of inference, and argue from causes to effects; presuming, that a more perfect production than the present world would be more suitable to such perfect beings as the gods, and forgetting that they have no reason to ascribe to these celestial beings any perfection or any attribute, but what can be found in the present world.

107. When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O Athenians, speak of a golden or silver age before our present state of vice and misery, I listen with attention and reverence. But philosophers claim to disregard authority and pursue reason. When they say the same thing, I admit that I do not submit to them with the same humble obedience and pious respect. I ask: Who took them into the heavens? Who admitted them to the councils of the gods? Who opened the book of fate to them? How can they so rashly claim that their gods have carried out, or will carry out, any purpose beyond what has actually appeared? If they tell me that they reached these heights by gradually reasoning from effects to causes, I still insist that imagination gave wings to their reason. Otherwise, they could not change their method and argue from causes to effects. They assume that a more perfect creation than the present world would be more fitting for such perfect beings as the gods. They forget that they have no reason to attribute any perfection or quality to these heavenly beings, except what can be found in the present world.

Hence all the fruitless industry to account for the ill appearances of nature, and save the honour of the gods; while we must acknowledge the reality of that evil and disorder, with which the world so much abounds. The obstinate and intractable qualities of matter, we are told, or the observance of general laws, or some such reason, is the sole cause, which controlled the power and benevolence of Jupiter, and obliged him to create mankind and every sensible creature so imperfect and so unhappy. These attributes then, are, it seems, beforehand, taken for granted, in their greatest latitude. And upon that supposition, I own that such conjectures may, perhaps, be admitted as plausible solutions of the ill phenomena. But still I ask; Why take these attributes for granted, or why ascribe to the cause any qualities but what actually appear in the effect? Why torture your brain to justify the course of nature upon suppositions, which, for aught you know, may be entirely imaginary, and of which there are to be found no traces in the course of nature?

This explains all the fruitless effort to account for the evils of nature and defend the honor of the gods. Yet we must acknowledge the reality of the evil and disorder that fill so much of the world. We are told that matter is stubborn and unmanageable, or that general laws must be observed. Some such reason alone, we are told, limited Jupiter’s power and benevolence. It forced him to create mankind and every creature capable of feeling so imperfect and so unhappy. It seems, then, that Jupiter’s power and benevolence are assumed from the start to be unlimited. On that assumption, I admit that such guesses may perhaps be plausible explanations of the evils we observe. But I still ask: Why take these qualities for granted? Why attribute any qualities to the cause except those that actually appear in the effect? Why struggle to justify the course of nature by making assumptions that, for all you know, may be entirely imaginary? There is no trace of these assumptions in the course of nature.

The religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered only as a particular method of accounting for the visible phenomena of the universe: but no just reasoner will ever presume to infer from it any single fact, and alter or add to the phenomena, in any single particular. If you think, that the appearances of things prove such causes, it is allowable for you to draw an inference concerning the existence of these causes. In such complicated and sublime subjects, every one should be indulged in the liberty of conjecture and argument. But here you ought to rest. If you come backward, and arguing from your inferred causes, conclude, that any other fact has existed, or will exist, in the course of nature, which may serve as a fuller display of particular attributes; I must admonish you, that you have departed from the method of reasoning, attached to the present subject, and have certainly added something to the attributes of the cause, beyond what appears in the effect; otherwise you could never, with tolerable sense or propriety, add anything to the effect, in order to render it more worthy of the cause.

The religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered only one way of explaining the visible phenomena of the universe. No sound reasoner will presume to infer a single fact from the hypothesis, changing or adding anything to the observed phenomena. If you think that appearances prove the existence of such causes, you may infer that these causes exist. In such complex and profound matters, everyone should be free to speculate and argue. But you should stop there. If you reason back from the causes you have inferred, you may conclude that some other fact has existed or will exist in nature. This fact might more fully display particular attributes of those causes. But I must warn you that you have departed from the method of reasoning appropriate to this subject. You have certainly added something to the attributes of the cause beyond what appears in the effect. Otherwise, you could not reasonably or properly add anything to the effect to make it more worthy of the cause.

108. Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, which I teach in my school, or rather, which I examine in my gardens? Or what do you find in this whole question, wherein the security of good morals, or the peace and order of society, is in the least concerned?

108. What, then, is so objectionable about the doctrine I teach in my school, or rather, examine in my gardens? What part of this whole question affects good morals or the peace and order of society in the least?

I deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor of the world, who guides the course of events, and punishes the vicious with infamy and disappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and success, in all their undertakings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events, which lies open to every one's inquiry and examination. I acknowledge, that, in the present order of things, virtue is attended with more peace of mind than vice, and meets with a more favourable reception from the world. I am sensible, that, according to the past experience of mankind, friendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only source of tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the virtuous and the vicious course of life; but am sensible, that, to a well-disposed mind, every advantage is on the side of the former. And what can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings? You tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things proceeds from intelligence and design. But whatever it proceeds from, the disposition itself, on which depends our happiness or misery, and consequently our conduct and deportment in life is still the same. It is still open for me, as well as you, to regulate my behaviour, by my experience of past events. And if you affirm, that, while a divine providence is allowed, and a supreme distributive justice in the universe, I ought to expect some more particular reward of the good, and punishment of the bad, beyond the ordinary course of events; I here find the same fallacy, which I have before endeavoured to detect. You persist in imagining, that, if we grant that divine existence, for which you so earnestly contend, you may safely infer consequences from it, and add something to the experienced order of nature, by arguing from the attributes which you ascribe to your gods. You seem not to remember, that all your reasonings on this subject can only be drawn from effects to causes; and that every argument, deducted from causes to effects, must of necessity be a gross sophism; since it is impossible for you to know anything of the cause, but what you have antecedently, not inferred, but discovered to the full, in the effect.

You say that I deny providence and a supreme governor of the world. You say that this governor guides events, punishes the wicked with disgrace and disappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honor and success in all they undertake. But surely I do not deny the course of events itself, which everyone can investigate and examine. I acknowledge that, in the present order of things, virtue brings more peace of mind than vice and is better received by the world. I recognize that, in humanity’s past experience, friendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation is the only source of tranquility and happiness. I never hesitate between a virtuous and a vicious life. I recognize that, for a well-disposed mind, every advantage lies with the virtuous life. And what more can you say, even if I grant all your assumptions and arguments? You tell me, indeed, that this order of things comes from intelligence and design. But whatever its source, the order itself remains the same. Our happiness or misery depends on that order, and so does our conduct in life. I am still as free as you are to guide my behavior by my experience of past events. But suppose you accept divine providence and supreme justice in the distribution of rewards and punishments in the universe. You may then claim that I should expect some further reward for the good and punishment for the bad, beyond the ordinary course of events. In that claim, I find the same fallacy I have already tried to expose. You still imagine that, if we grant the divine existence you argue for so earnestly, you can safely draw further conclusions from it. You think you can add something to the experienced order of nature by reasoning from the attributes you assign to your gods. You seem to forget that all your reasoning on this subject can proceed only from effects to causes. Any argument from causes to effects must be a gross fallacy. For you cannot know anything about the cause except what you have already discovered fully in the effect, not inferred from it.

109. But what must a philosopher think of those vain reasoners, who, instead of regarding the present scene of things as the sole object of their contemplation, so far reverse the whole course of nature, as to render this life merely a passage to something farther; a porch, which leads to a greater, and vastly different building; a prologue, which serves only to introduce the piece, and give it more grace and propriety? Whence, do you think, can such philosophers derive their idea of the gods? From their own conceit and imagination surely. For if they derived it from the present phenomena, it would never point to anything farther, but must be exactly adjusted to them. That the divinity may possibly be endowed with attributes, which we have never seen exerted; may be governed by principles of action, which we cannot discover to be satisfied: all this will freely be allowed. But still this is mere possibility and hypothesis. We never can have reason to infer any attributes, or any principles of action in him, but so far as we know them to have been exerted and satisfied.

109. But what should a philosopher think of those vain thinkers who turn the whole course of nature upside down? Instead of treating the world before us as the only object of their study, they make this life merely a passage to something beyond it. They make it a porch leading to a greater and vastly different building, or a prologue that only introduces the play and gives it more grace and propriety. Where, do you think, can such philosophers get their idea of the gods? Surely from their own ideas and imagination. If they drew it from the phenomena before us, it would never point beyond them. It would have to fit them exactly. We may freely admit that the divinity could possibly have attributes we have never seen exercised. The divinity may also act on principles whose aims we cannot discover to have been fulfilled. But this is still mere possibility and hypothesis. We can never have reason to infer any attributes or principles of action in him beyond those we know to have been exercised or fulfilled.

Are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world? If you answer in the affirmative, I conclude, that, since justice here exerts itself, it is satisfied. If you reply in the negative, I conclude, that you have then no reason to ascribe justice, in our sense of it, to the gods. If you hold a medium between affirmation and negation, by saying, that the justice of the gods, at present, exerts itself in part, but not in its full extent; I answer, that you have no reason to give it any particular extent, but only so far as you see it, at present, exert itself.

Are there any signs of distributive justice in the world? If you answer yes, I conclude that justice is satisfied, since it operates here. If you answer no, I conclude that you have no reason to attribute justice, as we understand it, to the gods. You may take a middle position. You may say that the gods’ justice operates partly at present, but not to its full extent. I answer that you have no reason to assign any particular extent to the gods’ justice. You can only say that it extends as far as you see it operating at present.

110. Thus I bring the dispute, O Athenians, to a short issue with my antagonists. The course of nature lies open to my contemplation as well as to theirs. The experienced train of events is the great standard, by which we all regulate our conduct. Nothing else can be appealed to in the field, or in the senate. Nothing else ought ever to be heard of in the school, or in the closet. In vain would our limited understanding break through those boundaries, which are too narrow for our fond imagination. While we argue from the course of nature, and infer a particular intelligent cause, which first bestowed, and still preserves order in the universe, we embrace a principle, which is both uncertain and useless. It is uncertain; because the subject lies entirely beyond the reach of human experience. It is useless; because our knowledge of this cause being derived entirely from the course of nature, we can never, according to the rules of just reasoning, return back from the cause with any new inference, or making additions to the common and experienced course of nature, establish any new principles of conduct and behaviour.

110. So, Athenians, I bring my dispute with my opponents to a simple point. I can observe the course of nature just as they can. The sequence of events we have experienced is the main standard by which we all guide our conduct. We can appeal to nothing else on the battlefield or in the senate. Nothing else should ever be considered in the classroom or in private study. Our limited understanding cannot break through these boundaries, though our eager imagination finds them too narrow. Suppose we reason from the course of nature to a particular intelligent cause. We infer that this cause first gave the universe its order and still preserves it. In doing so, we adopt a principle that is both uncertain and useless. It is uncertain because the subject lies entirely beyond the reach of human experience. It is useless because all our knowledge of this cause comes from the course of nature. So, by the rules of sound reasoning, we can never reason back from the cause to reach any new conclusion. Nor can we add anything to the ordinary, experienced course of nature and establish any new principles of conduct and behavior.

111. I observe (said I, finding he had finished his harangue) that you neglect not the artifice of the demagogues of old; and as you were pleased to make me stand for the people, you insinuate yourself into my favour by embracing those principles, to which, you know, I have always expressed a particular attachment. But allowing you to make experience (as indeed I think you ought) the only standard of our judgement concerning this, and all other questions of fact; I doubt not but, from the very same experience, to which you appeal, it may be possible to refute this reasoning, which you have put into the mouth of Epicurus. If you saw, for instance, a half-finished building, surrounded with heaps of brick and stone and mortar, and all the instruments of masonry; could you not infer from the effect, that it was a work of design and contrivance? And could you not return again, from this inferred cause, to infer new additions to the effect, and conclude, that the building would soon be finished, and receive all the further improvements, which art could bestow upon it? If you saw upon the sea-shore the print of one human foot, you would conclude, that a man had passed that way, and that he had also left the traces of the other foot, though effaced by the rolling of the sands or inundation of the waters. Why then do you refuse to admit the same method of reasoning with regard to the order of nature? Consider the world and the present life only as an imperfect building, from which you can infer a superior intelligence; and arguing from that superior intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect; why may you not infer a more finished scheme or plan, which will receive its completion in some distant point of space or time? Are not these methods of reasoning exactly similar? And under what pretence can you embrace the one, while you reject the other?

111. “I see that you have not neglected the tricks of the demagogues of old,” I said, finding that he had finished his speech. “You chose to make me represent the people. So you seek my favor by embracing principles to which you know I have always been particularly attached. But I grant that experience is the only standard for judging this and all other questions of fact. Indeed, I think you are right to make it so. Even so, I do not doubt that the very same experience you appeal to may refute the reasoning you have put in Epicurus’s mouth. “Suppose you saw a half-finished building surrounded by piles of brick, stone, and mortar, along with all the tools of masonry. Could you not infer from this result that the building was the work of design and planning? And could you not reason back from that inferred cause to further effects? Could you not conclude that the building would soon be finished and receive all the further improvements that craftsmanship could give it? Suppose you saw the print of one human foot on the shore. You would conclude that a man had passed that way and had also left prints of his other foot. You would do so even though those prints had been erased by shifting sand or flooding water. “Why then do you refuse to accept the same method of reasoning about the order of nature? Consider the world and our present life simply as an imperfect building from which you can infer a superior intelligence. Then reason from that superior intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect. Why may you not infer a more complete scheme or plan, which will be completed at some distant point in space or time? Are these methods of reasoning not exactly alike? And on what grounds can you accept one while rejecting the other?”

112. The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he, is a sufficient foundation for this difference in my conclusions. In works of human art and contrivance, it is allowable to advance from the effect to the cause, and returning back from the cause, to form new inferences concerning the effect, and examine the alterations, which it has probably undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the foundation of this method of reasoning? Plainly this; that man is a being, whom we know by experience, whose motives and designs we are acquainted with, and whose projects and inclinations have a certain connexion and coherence, according to the laws which nature has established for the government of such a creature. When, therefore, we find, that any work has proceeded from the skill and industry of man; as we are otherwise acquainted with the nature of the animal, we can draw a hundred inferences concerning what may be expected from him; and these inferences will all be founded in experience and observation. But did we know man only from the single work or production which we examine, it were impossible for us to argue in this manner; because our knowledge of all the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that case derived from the production, it is impossible they could point to anything farther, or be the foundation of any new inference. The print of a foot in the sand can only prove, when considered alone, that there was some figure adapted to it, by which it was produced: but the print of a human foot proves likewise, from our other experience, that there was probably another foot, which also left its impression, though effaced by time or other accidents. Here we mount from the effect to the cause; and descending again from the cause, infer alterations in the effect; but this is not a continuation of the same simple chain of reasoning. We comprehend in this case a hundred other experiences and observations, concerning the usual figure and members of that species of animal, without which this method of argument must be considered as fallacious and sophistical.

112. The infinite difference between the subjects, he replied, is sufficient reason for the difference in my conclusions. When dealing with works of human art and invention, we may reason from effect to cause. Then we may return from cause to effect and draw new conclusions about the effect. We may consider what changes it has probably undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the basis for this method of reasoning? Plainly, it is this: we know human beings through experience. We are familiar with their motives and intentions. Their plans and inclinations are connected and consistent in certain ways, according to the laws of nature that govern them. So when we find that a work is the product of human skill and effort, we can draw a hundred conclusions about what to expect from its maker. We can do this because we already know the nature of the human animal. All these conclusions will be based on experience and observation. But suppose we knew human beings only from the single work or product we were examining. Then we could not reason in this way. All our knowledge of the qualities we attributed to human beings would come from that product. These qualities could not point to anything beyond it or provide the basis for any new conclusion. A footprint in the sand, considered by itself, can only prove that something shaped to fit it produced it. But a human footprint also proves, from our other experience, that there was probably another foot. That foot also left a print, though time or some other accident erased it. Here we reason from effect to cause, and then return from cause to effect and infer changes in it. But this is not a continuation of the same simple chain of reasoning. In this case, we draw on a hundred other experiences and observations about the usual shape and body parts of that animal species. Without these, this method of argument must be considered false and misleading.

113. The case is not the same with our reasonings from the works of nature. The Deity is known to us only by his productions, and is a single being in the universe, not comprehended under any species or genus, from whose experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by analogy, infer any attribute or quality in him. As the universe shews wisdom and goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness. As it shews a particular degree of these perfections, we infer a particular degree of them, precisely adapted to the effect which we examine. But farther attributes or farther degrees of the same attributes, we can never be authorised to infer or suppose, by any rules of just reasoning. Now, without some such licence of supposition, it is impossible for us to argue from the cause, or infer any alteration in the effect, beyond what has immediately fallen under our observation. Greater good produced by this Being must still prove a greater degree of goodness: a more impartial distribution of rewards and punishments must proceed from a greater regard to justice and equity. Every supposed addition to the works of nature makes an addition to the attributes of the Author of nature; and consequently, being entirely unsupported by any reason or argument, can never be admitted but as mere conjecture and hypothesis³⁰.

113. Our reasoning from the works of nature is different. We know the Deity only through his works. He is a unique being in the universe, not a member of any species or class. So we cannot use our experience of such a group’s qualities to infer his qualities by analogy. To the extent that the universe shows wisdom and goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness. As the universe shows a particular degree of these qualities, we infer that same degree in the Deity, precisely matched to the effect we examine. But no rules of sound reasoning ever allow us to infer or suppose further qualities or greater degrees of the same qualities. Without some such freedom to make suppositions, we cannot reason from the cause to infer any change in the effect beyond what we have directly observed. Greater good produced by this Being must prove a greater degree of goodness. A more impartial distribution of rewards and punishments must come from a greater concern for justice and fairness. Every supposed addition to the works of nature adds to the qualities we attribute to the Author of nature. And because no reason or argument supports such additions, we can accept them only as conjecture and hypothesis³⁰.

The great source of our mistake in this subject, and of the unbounded licence of conjecture, which we indulge, is, that we tacitly consider ourselves, as in the place of the Supreme Being, and conclude, that he will, on every occasion, observe the same conduct, which we ourselves, in his situation, would have embraced as reasonable and eligible. But, besides that the ordinary course of nature may convince us, that almost everything is regulated by principles and maxims very different from ours; besides this, I say, it must evidently appear contrary to all rules of analogy to reason, from the intentions and projects of men, to those of a Being so different, and so much superior. In human nature, there is a certain experienced coherence of designs and inclinations; so that when, from any fact, we have discovered one intention of any man, it may often be reasonable, from experience, to infer another, and draw a long chain of conclusions concerning his past or future conduct. But this method of reasoning can never have place with regard to a Being, so remote and incomprehensible, who bears much less analogy to any other being in the universe than the sun to a waxen taper, and who discovers himself only by some faint traces or outlines, beyond which we have no authority to ascribe to him any attribute or perfection. What we imagine to be a superior perfection, may really be a defect. Or were it ever so much a perfection, the ascribing of it to the Supreme Being, where it appears not to have been really exerted, to the full, in his works, savours more of flattery and panegyric, than of just reasoning and sound philosophy. All the philosophy, therefore, in the world, and all the religion, which is nothing but a species of philosophy, will never be able to carry us beyond the usual course of experience, or give us measures of conduct and behaviour different from those which are furnished by reflections on common life. No new fact can ever be inferred from the religious hypothesis; no event foreseen or foretold; no reward or punishment expected or dreaded, beyond what is already known by practice and observation. So that my apology for Epicurus will still appear solid and satisfactory; nor have the political interests of society any connexion with the philosophical disputes concerning metaphysics and religion.

The main source of our mistake on this subject is our habit of silently imagining ourselves in the Supreme Being’s place. This also leads us to indulge in unlimited speculation. We conclude that he will always act as we would consider reasonable and desirable in his position. But the ordinary course of nature can convince us that almost everything is governed by principles and rules very different from ours. Moreover, it plainly goes against all rules of analogy to reason from human intentions and plans to those of a Being so different from us and so far above us. In human nature, experience shows a certain consistency in people’s plans and inclinations. So, when some fact reveals one of a person’s intentions, experience may often justify inferring another. We may then draw a long chain of conclusions about that person’s past or future conduct. But this way of reasoning can never apply to a Being so remote and beyond our understanding. He has far less in common with any other being in the universe than the sun has with a wax candle. He reveals himself only through faint traces or outlines. Beyond these, we have no grounds for attributing any quality or perfection to him. What we imagine to be a higher perfection may actually be a defect. Or even if it is a perfection, attributing it to the Supreme Being is more like flattery and praise than sound reasoning and sound philosophy, when his works do not show that he has fully exercised it. Therefore, all the philosophy in the world, and all religion, which is only a kind of philosophy, can never take us beyond the usual course of experience. Nor can they give us standards of conduct and behavior different from those provided by reflecting on ordinary life. No new fact can ever be inferred from the religious hypothesis. No event can be foreseen or predicted, and no reward or punishment can be expected or feared, beyond what we already know through practice and observation. My defense of Epicurus will therefore still appear sound and satisfactory. Nor do the political interests of society have any connection with philosophical disputes about metaphysics and religion.

114. There is still one circumstance, replied I, which you seem to have overlooked. Though I should allow your premises, I must deny your conclusion. You conclude, that religious doctrines and reasonings can have no influence on life, because they ought to have no influence; never considering, that men reason not in the same manner you do, but draw many consequences from the belief of a divine Existence, and suppose that the Deity will inflict punishments on vice, and bestow rewards on virtue, beyond what appear in the ordinary course of nature. Whether this reasoning of theirs be just or not, is no matter. Its influence on their life and conduct must still be the same. And, those, who attempt to disabuse them of such prejudices, may, for aught I know, be good reasoners, but I cannot allow them to be good citizens and politicians; since they free men from one restraint upon their passions, and make the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more easy and secure.

114. “There is still one point you seem to have overlooked,” I replied. “Even if I granted your premises, I would have to deny your conclusion. You conclude that religious doctrines and arguments can have no influence on life because they ought to have none. But you do not consider that people reason differently from you. They draw many conclusions from their belief in a divine being. They suppose that God will punish vice and reward virtue beyond what we see in the ordinary course of nature. Whether their reasoning is sound does not matter. It must still have the same influence on their lives and conduct. Those who try to free people from such prejudices may, for all I know, be good reasoners. But I cannot agree that they are good citizens or statesmen. They remove one restraint on people’s passions. In one respect, they make it easier and safer to break the laws of society.”

After all, I may, perhaps, agree to your general conclusion in favour of liberty, though upon different premises from those, on which you endeavour to found it. I think, that the state ought to tolerate every principle of philosophy; nor is there an instance, that any government has suffered in its political interests by such indulgence. There is no enthusiasm among philosophers; their doctrines are not very alluring to the people; and no restraint can be put upon their reasonings, but what must be of dangerous consequence to the sciences, and even to the state, by paving the way for persecution and oppression in points, where the generality of mankind are more deeply interested and concerned.

After all, I may perhaps agree with your general conclusion in favor of liberty, though for different reasons. I think the state should tolerate every philosophical principle. No government has ever suffered harm to its political interests by allowing this. Philosophers are not prone to religious enthusiasm, and their doctrines do not greatly appeal to the public. Any restriction on their reasoning must have dangerous consequences for the sciences and even for the state. Such restrictions would pave the way for persecution and oppression in matters that concern most people more deeply.

115. But there occurs to me (continued I) with regard to your main topic, a difficulty, which I shall just propose to you without insisting on it; lest it lead into reasonings of too nice and delicate a nature. In a word, I much doubt whether it be possible for a cause to be known only by its effect (as you have all along supposed) or to be of so singular and particular a nature as to have no parallel and no similarity with any other cause or object, that has ever fallen under our observation. It is only when two species of objects are found to be constantly conjoined, that we can infer the one from the other; and were an effect presented, which was entirely singular, and could not be comprehended under any known species, I do not see, that we could form any conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If experience and observation and analogy be, indeed, the only guides which we can reasonably follow in inferences of this nature; both the effect and cause must bear a similarity and resemblance to other effects and causes, which we know, and which we have found, in many instances, to be conjoined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to pursue the consequences of this principle. I shall just observe, that, as the antagonists of Epicurus always suppose the universe, an effect quite singular and unparalleled, to be the proof of a Deity, a cause no less singular and unparalleled; your reasonings, upon that supposition, seem, at least, to merit our attention. There is, I own, some difficulty, how we can ever return from the cause to the effect, and, reasoning from our ideas of the former, infer any alteration on the latter, or any addition to it.

115. But a difficulty occurs to me about your main topic, I continued. I will merely mention it without pressing the point, so that it does not lead us into overly subtle and delicate reasoning. In short, I seriously doubt whether a cause can be known only by its effect, as you have assumed throughout. I also doubt whether a cause can be so singular and particular that it has no parallel or resemblance to any other cause or object we have ever observed. Only when two species of objects are found to be constantly connected can we infer one from the other. Suppose we were presented with an entirely singular effect that could not be placed under any known species. I do not see how we could make any conjecture or inference at all about its cause. Experience, observation, and analogy may indeed be the only guides we can reasonably follow in making such inferences. If so, both the effect and the cause must resemble other effects and causes we know. We must also have found those other effects and causes connected in many instances. I leave you to reflect on the consequences of this principle. I will only note one thing. Epicurus’s opponents always suppose that the universe, an entirely singular and unparalleled effect, proves the existence of a Deity, a no less singular and unparalleled cause. Given that assumption, your arguments seem, at least, to deserve our attention. I admit there is some difficulty in seeing how we can ever reason back from the cause to the effect. It is difficult to see how, from our ideas of the cause, we could infer any change in the effect or any addition to it.