Part 6

It must be a slight fabric, indeed, said DEMEA, which can be erected on so tottering a foundation. While we are uncertain whether there is one deity or many; whether the deity or deities, to whom we owe our existence, be perfect or imperfect, subordinate or supreme, dead or alive, what trust or confidence can we repose in them? What devotion or worship address to them? What veneration or obedience pay them? To all the purposes of life the theory of religion becomes altogether useless: and even with regard to speculative consequences, its uncertainty, according to you, must render it totally precarious and unsatisfactory.

A very weak structure indeed, said DEMEA, must be all you can build on such an unstable foundation. We are uncertain whether there is one deity or many. We do not know whether the deity or deities responsible for our existence are perfect or imperfect, subordinate or supreme. We do not even know whether they are dead or alive. While we remain uncertain about all this, what trust or confidence can we place in them? What devotion or worship can we offer them? What reverence or obedience can we show them? For every practical purpose in life, the theory of religion becomes entirely useless. And even as a matter of abstract reasoning, its uncertainty must, according to you, make it completely unreliable and unsatisfactory.

To render it still more unsatisfactory, said PHILO, there occurs to me another hypothesis, which must acquire an air of probability from the method of reasoning so much insisted on by CLEANTHES. That like effects arise from like causes: this principle he supposes the foundation of all religion. But there is another principle of the same kind, no less certain, and derived from the same source of experience; that where several known circumstances are observed to be similar, the unknown will also be found similar. Thus, if we see the limbs of a human body, we conclude that it is also attended with a human head, though hid from us. Thus, if we see, through a chink in a wall, a small part of the sun, we conclude, that, were the wall removed, we should see the whole body. In short, this method of reasoning is so obvious and familiar, that no scruple can ever be made with regard to its solidity.

To make it even less satisfactory, said PHILO, another hypothesis occurs to me. The reasoning CLEANTHES insists on so strongly must give this hypothesis an air of probability. Similar effects come from similar causes. He takes this principle as the foundation of all religion. But another principle of the same kind is just as certain and comes from the same source, experience. When several known features are observed to be similar, the unknown features will also turn out to be similar. So, if we see the limbs of a human body, we conclude that it also has a human head. We draw this conclusion even though the head is hidden from us. Likewise, if we see a small part of the sun through a crack in a wall, we draw another conclusion. If the wall were removed, we would see the whole sun. In short, this way of reasoning is so obvious and familiar that its soundness can never be doubted.

Now, if we survey the universe, so far as it falls under our knowledge, it bears a great resemblance to an animal or organised body, and seems actuated with a like principle of life and motion. A continual circulation of matter in it produces no disorder: a continual waste in every part is incessantly repaired: the closest sympathy is perceived throughout the entire system: and each part or member, in performing its proper offices, operates both to its own preservation and to that of the whole. The world, therefore, I infer, is an animal; and the Deity is the SOUL of the world, actuating it, and actuated by it.

Now, if we examine the universe, as far as we know it, it closely resembles an animal or organized body. The universe seems driven by a similar principle of life and motion. Matter constantly circulates within the universe without causing disorder. Constant losses in every part are continually repaired. The closest connection can be seen throughout the entire system. Each part or member, by performing its proper functions, helps preserve both itself and the whole. Therefore, I conclude that the world is an animal. The Deity is the SOUL of the world, giving it life and motion, and receiving life and motion from it.

You have too much learning, CLEANTHES, to be at all surprised at this opinion, which, you know, was maintained by almost all the Theists of antiquity, and chiefly prevails in their discourses and reasonings. For though, sometimes, the ancient philosophers reason from final causes, as if they thought the world the workmanship of God; yet it appears rather their favourite notion to consider it as his body, whose organisation renders it subservient to him. And it must be confessed, that, as the universe resembles more a human body than it does the works of human art and contrivance, if our limited analogy could ever, with any propriety, be extended to the whole of nature, the inference seems juster in favour of the ancient than the modern theory.

You are too well-read, CLEANTHES, to be at all surprised by this opinion. As you know, almost all ancient Theists held this view, and it dominates their discussions and arguments. Ancient philosophers sometimes reason from the purposes things serve, as if they considered the world God’s handiwork. Yet they seem to prefer viewing the world as God’s body, organized to serve him. And we must admit that the universe resembles a human body more than anything humans design or make. If our limited analogy could ever properly extend to all of nature, the ancient theory seems better supported than the modern one.

There are many other advantages, too, in the former theory, which recommended it to the ancient theologians. Nothing more repugnant to all their notions, because nothing more repugnant to common experience, than mind without body; a mere spiritual substance, which fell not under their senses nor comprehension, and of which they had not observed one single instance throughout all nature. Mind and body they knew, because they felt both: an order, arrangement, organisation, or internal machinery, in both, they likewise knew, after the same manner: and it could not but seem reasonable to transfer this experience to the universe; and to suppose the divine mind and body to be also coeval, and to have, both of them, order and arrangement naturally inherent in them, and inseparable from them.

The former theory had many other advantages, too, that appealed to the ancient theologians. Nothing conflicted more with all their ideas than a mind without a body, because nothing conflicted more with common experience. Such a mind would be a purely spiritual substance, beyond their senses and understanding. They had not observed a single example of such a substance anywhere in nature. They knew both mind and body because they experienced both. Through that same experience, they also knew that both had order, arrangement, organization, or internal machinery. So applying this experience to the universe could only seem reasonable to them. They would suppose that the divine mind and body had always existed together. They would also suppose that order and arrangement were naturally present in both and inseparable from either.

Here, therefore, is a new species of Anthropomorphism, CLEANTHES, on which you may deliberate; and a theory which seems not liable to any considerable difficulties. You are too much superior, surely, to systematical prejudices, to find any more difficulty in supposing an animal body to be, originally, of itself, or from unknown causes, possessed of order and organisation, than in supposing a similar order to belong to mind. But the vulgar prejudice, that body and mind ought always to accompany each other, ought not, one should think, to be entirely neglected; since it is founded on vulgar experience, the only guide which you profess to follow in all these theological inquiries. And if you assert, that our limited experience is an unequal standard, by which to judge of the unlimited extent of nature; you entirely abandon your own hypothesis, and must thenceforward adopt our Mysticism, as you call it, and admit of the absolute incomprehensibility of the Divine Nature.

Here, then, is a new kind of Anthropomorphism for you to consider, CLEANTHES. This theory seems to face no serious difficulties. Surely you are too far above rigid theoretical prejudices to find one assumption harder to accept than the other. An animal body may originally possess order and organization on its own, or through unknown causes. Why should this be harder to accept than a similar order in a mind? But the common belief that body and mind must always accompany each other should not, one would think, be entirely dismissed. For that belief rests on everyday experience, your only stated guide in all these theological inquiries. And suppose you claim that our limited experience cannot adequately measure the unlimited extent of nature. If so, you abandon your own hypothesis entirely. From then on, you must adopt our Mysticism, as you call it, and admit that the Divine Nature is absolutely incomprehensible.

This theory, I own, replied CLEANTHES, has never before occurred to me, though a pretty natural one; and I cannot readily, upon so short an examination and reflection, deliver any opinion with regard to it. You are very scrupulous, indeed, said PHILO: were I to examine any system of yours, I should not have acted with half that caution and reserve, in starting objections and difficulties to it. However, if any thing occur to you, you will oblige us by proposing it.

I admit, replied CLEANTHES, that this theory has never occurred to me before, though it seems quite natural. After so little time to examine and consider the theory, I cannot readily offer an opinion on it. You are very cautious indeed, said PHILO. If I were examining any theory of yours, I would not have shown half as much caution and restraint. I would have raised objections and difficulties far more freely. Still, if any objections occur to you, please share them with us.

Why then, replied CLEANTHES, it seems to me, that, though the world does, in many circumstances, resemble an animal body; yet is the analogy also defective in many circumstances the most material: no organs of sense; no seat of thought or reason; no one precise origin of motion and action. In short, it seems to bear a stronger resemblance to a vegetable than to an animal, and your inference would be so far inconclusive in favour of the soul of the world.

Well then, replied CLEANTHES, it seems to me that the world does resemble an animal’s body in many ways. But the comparison also fails in many of the most important ways. The world has no sense organs, no center of thought or reason, and no single source of movement and action. In short, the world seems more like a plant than an animal. So your argument would, to that extent, fail to establish that the world has a soul.

But, in the next place, your theory seems to imply the eternity of the world; and that is a principle, which, I think, can be refuted by the strongest reasons and probabilities. I shall suggest an argument to this purpose, which, I believe, has not been insisted on by any writer. Those, who reason from the late origin of arts and sciences, though their inference wants not force, may perhaps be refuted by considerations derived from the nature of human society, which is in continual revolution, between ignorance and knowledge, liberty and slavery, riches and poverty; so that it is impossible for us, from our limited experience, to foretell with assurance what events may or may not be expected. Ancient learning and history seem to have been in great danger of entirely perishing after the inundation of the barbarous nations; and had these convulsions continued a little longer, or been a little more violent, we should not probably have now known what passed in the world a few centuries before us. Nay, were it not for the superstition of the Popes, who preserved a little jargon of Latin, in order to support the appearance of an ancient and universal church, that tongue must have been utterly lost; in which case, the Western world, being totally barbarous, would not have been in a fit disposition for receiving the GREEK language and learning, which was conveyed to them after the sacking of CONSTANTINOPLE. When learning and books had been extinguished, even the mechanical arts would have fallen considerably to decay; and it is easily imagined, that fable or tradition might ascribe to them a much later origin than the true one. This vulgar argument, therefore, against the eternity of the world, seems a little precarious.

But next, your theory seems to imply that the world has always existed. I think the strongest reasons and probabilities can refute that view. I shall offer an argument against it that, I believe, no writer has emphasized before. Some argue against the world’s eternal existence because the arts and sciences began relatively recently. Though that argument has some force, the nature of human society may perhaps provide an answer. Society constantly shifts between ignorance and knowledge, freedom and slavery, wealth and poverty. So our limited experience cannot tell us with certainty what events we can or cannot expect. Ancient learning and history seem to have come close to disappearing entirely after the invasions of barbarian peoples. Had those upheavals lasted a little longer, or been a little more violent, we would probably know nothing of earlier centuries. Indeed, without the Popes’ superstition, Latin would have been lost entirely. They preserved a little Latin jargon to maintain the appearance of an ancient and universal church. Had Latin disappeared, the Western world would have been entirely barbarous. It would not have been ready to receive GREEK language and learning, brought west after the sack of CONSTANTINOPLE. Once learning and books had disappeared, even the practical crafts would have declined considerably. We can easily imagine how myths or traditions might then give those crafts a much later origin than their true one. So this common argument against the world’s eternal existence seems somewhat uncertain.

But here appears to be the foundation of a better argument. LUCULLUS was the first that brought cherry-trees from ASIA to EUROPE; though that tree thrives so well in many EUROPEAN climates, that it grows in the woods without any culture. Is it possible, that throughout a whole eternity, no EUROPEAN had ever passed into ASIA, and thought of transplanting so delicious a fruit into his own country? Or if the tree was once transplanted and propagated, how could it ever afterwards perish? Empires may rise and fall, liberty and slavery succeed alternately, ignorance and knowledge give place to each other; but the cherry-tree will still remain in the woods of GREECE, SPAIN, and ITALY, and will never be affected by the revolutions of human society.

But here we seem to have the basis for a better argument. LUCULLUS was the first to bring cherry trees from ASIA to EUROPE. Yet cherry trees thrive so well in many EUROPEAN climates that they grow wild in the woods without cultivation. Is it possible that, throughout all eternity, no EUROPEAN had ever traveled to ASIA and thought of bringing such delicious fruit home? Or if cherry trees had once been transplanted and spread, how could they ever have died out afterward? Empires may rise and fall. Freedom and slavery may take turns, and ignorance and knowledge may give way to each other. But cherry trees will still remain in the woods of GREECE, SPAIN, and ITALY. They will never be affected by upheavals in human society.

It is not two thousand years since vines were transplanted into FRANCE, though there is no climate in the world more favourable to them. It is not three centuries since horses, cows, sheep, swine, dogs, corn, were known in AMERICA. Is it possible, that during the revolutions of a whole eternity, there never arose a COLUMBUS, who might open the communication between EUROPE and that continent? We may as well imagine, that all men would wear stockings for ten thousand years, and never have the sense to think of garters to tie them. All these seem convincing proofs of the youth, or rather infancy, of the world; as being founded on the operation of principles more constant and steady than those by which human society is governed and directed. Nothing less than a total convulsion of the elements will ever destroy all the EUROPEAN animals and vegetables which are now to be found in the Western world.

Vines were brought to FRANCE less than two thousand years ago, though no climate in the world suits them better. Horses, cows, sheep, pigs, dogs, and grain were unknown in AMERICA less than three centuries ago. Is it possible that, through the changes of an entire eternity, no COLUMBUS ever appeared? Could no such explorer have opened contact between EUROPE and that continent? We might just as well imagine all men wearing stockings for ten thousand years without ever thinking of garters to secure them. All these facts seem convincing proofs that the world is young, or rather, still in its infancy. For these proofs rest on principles far more constant and steady than those that govern and guide human society. Nothing short of a complete upheaval of the elements could ever destroy all the EUROPEAN animals and plants now found in the Western world.

And what argument have you against such convulsions? replied PHILO. Strong and almost incontestable proofs may be traced over the whole earth, that every part of this globe has continued for many ages entirely covered with water. And though order were supposed inseparable from matter, and inherent in it; yet may matter be susceptible of many and great revolutions, through the endless periods of eternal duration. The incessant changes, to which every part of it is subject, seem to intimate some such general transformations; though, at the same time, it is observable, that all the changes and corruptions of which we have ever had experience, are but passages from one state of order to another; nor can matter ever rest in total deformity and confusion. What we see in the parts, we may infer in the whole; at least, that is the method of reasoning on which you rest your whole theory. And were I obliged to defend any particular system of this nature, which I never willingly should do, I esteem none more plausible than that which ascribes an eternal inherent principle of order to the world, though attended with great and continual revolutions and alterations. This at once solves all difficulties; and if the solution, by being so general, is not entirely complete and satisfactory, it is at least a theory that we must sooner or later have recourse to, whatever system we embrace. How could things have been as they are, were there not an original inherent principle of order somewhere, in thought or in matter? And it is very indifferent to which of these we give the preference. Chance has no place, on any hypothesis, sceptical or religious. Every thing is surely governed by steady, inviolable laws. And were the inmost essence of things laid open to us, we should then discover a scene, of which, at present, we can have no idea. Instead of admiring the order of natural beings, we should clearly see that it was absolutely impossible for them, in the smallest article, ever to admit of any other disposition.

And what argument do you have against such upheavals? replied PHILO. Strong, almost undeniable evidence can be found across the earth that every part lay completely underwater for many ages. And even if order were inseparable from matter and inherent in matter, matter might still undergo many great transformations. Such transformations could occur throughout the endless span of eternity. The constant changes affecting every part of matter seem to suggest such large-scale transformations. Yet all the changes and decay we have ever experienced are only transitions from one ordered state to another. Nor can matter ever remain in total disorder and confusion. What we observe in the parts, we may infer about the whole. At least, that is the method of reasoning on which you base your entire theory. If I had to defend any particular theory of this kind, I would never do so willingly. But I consider none more plausible than the theory that the world contains an eternal, inherent principle of order. Such order could coexist with great and continual upheavals and changes. This theory resolves all the difficulties at once. Because the explanation is so general, it may not be entirely complete and satisfactory. But whatever theory we accept, we must sooner or later turn to this explanation. How could things be as they are without some original, inherent principle of order, either in thought or in matter? And it makes very little difference which of the two we prefer. Chance has no place in any theory, whether skeptical or religious. Everything is surely governed by fixed laws that cannot be broken. And if the deepest nature of things were revealed to us, we would discover something we cannot now even imagine. Instead of admiring the order of natural things, we would clearly see that no other arrangement was possible. Not even the smallest detail could ever have been different.

Were any one inclined to revive the ancient Pagan Theology, which maintained, as we learn from HESIOD, that this globe was governed by 30,000 deities, who arose from the unknown powers of nature: you would naturally object, CLEANTHES, that nothing is gained by this hypothesis; and that it is as easy to suppose all men animals, beings more numerous, but less perfect, to have sprung immediately from a like origin. Push the same inference a step further, and you will find a numerous society of deities as explicable as one universal deity, who possesses within himself the powers and perfections of the whole society. All these systems, then, of Scepticism, Polytheism, and Theism, you must allow, on your principles, to be on a like footing, and that no one of them has any advantage over the others. You may thence learn the fallacy of your principles.

Suppose someone wanted to revive ancient Pagan Theology. According to HESIOD, this teaching held that 30,000 deities governed the world and arose from nature’s unknown powers. You would naturally object, CLEANTHES, that this theory explains nothing. It is just as easy to suppose that all humans and animals came directly from a similar source. These beings are more numerous than those deities, but less perfect. Take the same reasoning one step further. You will find that a large society of deities is as easy to explain as one universal deity. That single deity contains within himself all the powers and perfections of the whole society. So, by your own principles, you must admit that Scepticism, Polytheism, and Theism all stand on equal ground. None of these systems has any advantage over the others. From this, you may learn how flawed your principles are.