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ONE considerable advantage that arises from Philosophy, consists in the sovereign antidote which it affords to superstition and false religion. All other remedies against that pestilent distemper are vain, or at least uncertain. Plain good sense and the prac|tice of the world, which alone serve most purposes of life, are here found ineffectu|al: History as well as daily experience fur|nish instances of men endowed with the
strongest capacity for business and affairs, who have all their lives crouched under sla|very to the grossest superstition. Even gai|ety and sweetness of temper, which infuse a balm into every other wound, afford no remedy to so virulent a poison; as we may particularly observe of the fair sex, who tho' commonly possest of these rich presents of nature, feel many of their joys blasted by this importunate intruder. But when sound Philosophy has once gained possession of the mind, superstition is effectually excluded, and one may fairly affirm that her triumph over this enemy is more complete than over most of the vices and imperfections incident to human nature. Love or anger, ambition or avarice, have their root in the temper and affections, which the soundest reason is scarce ever able fully to correct, but superstition being founded on false opinion, must immediately vanish when true philoso|phy has inspired juster sentiments of supe|rior powers. The contest is here more e|qual between the distemper and the medi|cine,
and nothing can hinder the latter from proving effectual but its being false and so|phisticated.
IT will here be superfluous to magnify the merits of Philosophy by displaying the pernicious tendency of that vice of which it cures the human mind. (1) The super|stitious man says Tully* 1.1 is miserable in every scene, in every incident in life; even sleep itself, which banishes all other cares of unhappy mortals, affords to him matter of new terror; while he examines his dreams, and finds in those visions of the night prog|nostications of future calamities. I may add that tho' death alone can put a full period to his misery, he dares not fly to this refuge, but still prolongs a miserable existence from a vain fear lest he offend his Maker, by u|sing the power, with which that beneficent being has endowed him. The presents of God and nature are ravished from us by this
cruel enemy, and notwithstanding that one step would remove us from the regions of pain and sorrow, her menaces still chain us down to a hated being which she herself chiefly contributes to render miserable.
'TIS observed by such as have been re|duced by the calamities of life to the neces|sity of employing this fatal remedy, that if the unseasonable care of their friends de|prive them of that species of Death which they proposed to themselves, they seldom venture upon any other, or can summon up so much resolution a second time as to exe|cute their purpose. So great is our horror of death, that when it presents itself under any form, besides that to which a man has endeavoured to reconcile his imagination, it acquires new terrors and overcomes his feeble courage: But when the menaces of superstition are joined to this natural timidity, no wonder it quite deprives men of all power over their lives, since even many pleasures and enjoyments,
to which we are carried by a strong propen|sity, are torn from us by this inhuman ty|rant. Let us here endeavour to restore men to their native liberty, by examining all the common arguments against Suicide, and shewing that that action may be free from every imputation of guilt or blame, accord|ing to the sentiments of all the antient phi|losophers. (2)
IF Suicide be criminal, it must be a transgression of our duty either to God, our neighbour, or ourselves.—To prove that suicide is no transgression of our duty to God, the following considerations may perhaps suffice. In order to govern the material world, the almighty Creator has established general and immutable laws, by which all bodies, from the greatest planet to the smallest particle of matter, are maintained in their proper sphere and func|tion. To govern the animal world, he has endowed all living creatures with bodi|ly and mental powers; with senses, pas|sions,
appetites, memory, and judgment, by which they are impelled or regulated in that course of life to which they are des|tined. These two distinct principles of the material and animal world, continually encroach upon each other, and mutually re|tard or forward each others operation. The powers of men and of all other animals are restrained and directed by the nature and qualities of the surrounding bodies, and the modifications and actions of these bo|dies are incessantly altered by the operation of all animals. Man is stopt by rivers in his passage over the surface of the earth; and rivers, when properly directed, lend their force to the motion of machines, which serve to the use of man. But tho' the provinces of the material and animal powers are not kept entirely seperate, there results from thence no discord or disorder in the creation; on the contrary, from the mixture, union, and contrast of all the va|rious powers of inanimate bodies and liv|ing creatures, arises that sympathy, har|mony,
and proportion, which affords the surest argument of supreme wisdom. The providence of the Deity appears not imme|diately in any operation, but governs every thing by those general and immutable laws, which have been established from the beginning of time. All events, in one sense, may be pronounced the action of the Almighty, they all proceed from those powers with which he has endowed his creatures. A house which falls by its own weight, is not brought to ruin by his providence, more than one destroyed by the hands of men; nor are the human fa|culties less his workmanship, than the laws of motion and gravitation. When the passions play, when the judgment dictates, when the limbs obey; this is all the opera|tion of God, and upon these animate prin|ciples, as well as upon the inanimate, has he established the goverment of the universe. Every event is alike important in the eyes of that infinite being, who takes in at one glance the most distant regions of space, and
remotest periods of time. There is no e|vent, however important to us, which he has exempted from the general laws that govern the universe, or which he has pecu|liarly reserved for his own immediate ac|tion and operation. The revolution of states and empires depends upon the smallest ca|price or passion of single men; and the lives of men are shortened or extended by the smallest accident of air or diet, sun|shine or tempest. Nature still conti|nues her progress and operation; and if general laws be ever broke by par|ticular volitions of the Deity, 'tis after a manner which entirely escapes human ob|servation. As on the one hand, the ele|ments and other inanimate parts of the cre|ation carry on their action without regard to the particular interest and situation of men; so men are entrusted to their own judgment and discretion in the various shocks of matter, and may employ every fa|culty with which they are endowed, in or|der to provide for their ease, happiness, or
preservation. What is the meaning then of that principle, that a man who tired of life, and hunted by pain and misery, brave|ly overcomes all the natural terrors of death, and makes his escape from this cru|el scene: that such a man I say, has incur|red the indignation of his Creator by en|croaching on the office of divine providence, and disturbing the order of the universe? shall we assert that the Almighty has reser|ved to himself in any peculiar manner the disposal of the lives of men, and has not submitted that event, in common with others, to the general laws by which the universe is governed? This is plainly salse; the lives of men depend upon the same laws as the lives of all other animals; and these are subjected to the general laws of matter and motion. The fall of a tower, or the infusion of a poison, will destroy a man equally with the meanest creature; an in|undation sweeps away every thing with|out distinction that comes within the reach of its fury. Since therefore the lives of men
are for ever dependant on the general laws of matter and motion, is a man's disposing of his life criminal, because in every case it is criminal to encroach upon these laws, or disturb their operation? But this seems absurd; all animals are entrusted to their own prudence and skill for their conduct in the world, and have full authority as far as their power extends, to alter all the operati|ons of nature. Without the excercise of this authority they could not subsist a moment; every action, every motion of a man, inno|vates on the order of some parts of matter, and diverts from their ordinary course the general laws of motion. Putting toge|ther, therefore, these conclusions, we find that human life depends upon the general laws of matter and motion, and that it is no encroachment on the office of provi|dence to disturb or alter these general laws: Has not every one, of consequence, the free disposal of his own life? And may he not lawfully employ that power with which nature has endowed him? In order
to destroy the evidence of this conclusion, we must shew a reason why this particular case is excepted; is it because human life is of such great importance, that 'tis a pre|sumption for human prudence to dispose of it? But the life of a man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster. And were it of ever so great im|portance, the order of human nature has actually submitted it to human prudence, and reduced us to a necessity, in every in|cident, of determining concerning it.—Were the disposal of human life so much reserved as the peculiar province of the Almighty, that it were an encroachment on his right, for men to dispose of their own lives; it would be equally criminal to act for the preservation of life as for its destruc|tion. If I turn aside a stone which is fal|ling upon my head, I disturb the course of nature, and I invade the peculiar province of the Almighty, by lengthening out my life beyond the period which by the gene|ral laws of matter and motion he had assign|ed it. (3)
A hair, a fly, an insect is able to destroy this mighty being whose life is of such im|portance. Is it an absurdity to suppose that human prudence may lawfully dispose of what depends on such insignificant causes? It would be no crime in me to di|vert the Nile or Danube from its course, were I able to effect such purposes. Where then is the crime of turning a few ounces of blood from their natural channel?—Do you imagine that I repine at Providence or curse my creation, because I go out of life, and put a period to a being, which, were it to continue, would render me mise|rable? Far be such sentiments from me; I am only convinced of a matter of fact, which you yourself acknowledge possible, that human life may be unhappy; and that my existence, if further prolonged, would become ineligible; but I thank Provi|dence, both for the good which I have al|ready enjoyed, and for the power with which I am endowed of escaping the ill that
threatens me.* 1.2 To you it belongs to repine at providence, who foolishly imagine that you have no such power, and who must still prolong a hated life, tho' loaded with pain and sickness, with shame and poverty—Do not you teach, that when any ill befals me, tho' by the malice of my enemies, I ought to be resigned to providence, and that the actions of men are the operations of the Almighty as much as the actions of inanimate beings? When I fall upon my own sword, therefore, I receive my death equally from the hands of the Deity as if it had proceeded from a lion, a precipice, or a fever. The submission which you re|quire to providence, in every calamity that befals me, excludes not human skill and in|dustry, if possible by their means I can a|void or escape the calamity: And why may I not employ one remedy as well as another?—If my life be not my own, it were criminal for me to put it in danger, as
well as to dispose of it; nor could one man deserve the appellation of hero, whom glory or friendship transports into the great|est dangers, and another merit the reproach of wretch or miscreant who puts a period to his life, from the same or like motives.—There is no being, which possesses any power or faculty, that it receives not from its Creator, nor is there any one, which by ever so irregular an action can encroach upon the plan of his providence, or disor|der the universe. Its operations are his works equally with that chain of events which it invades, and which ever principle prevails, we may for that very reason con|clude it to be most favoured by him. Be it animate, or inanimate, rational, or irra|tional, 'tis all a case: its power is still de|rived from the supreme Creator, and is a|like comprehended in the order of his pro|vidence. When the horror of pain pre|vails over the love of life; when a volun|tary action anticipates the effects of blind causes, 'tis only in consequence of those
powers and principles which he has im|planted in his creatures. Divine provi|dence is still inviolate, and placed far be|yond the reach of human injuries. 'Tis impious says the old Roman superstition* 1.3 to divert rivers from their course, or invade the prerogatives of nature: 'Tis im|pious says the French superstition to ino|culate for the small-pox, or usurp the busi|ness of providence by voluntarily produc|ing distempers and maladies. 'Tis im|pious says the modern European supersti|tion, to put a period to our own life, and thereby rebel against our Creator; and why not impious, say I, to build houses, culti|vate the ground, or sail upon the ocean? In all these actions we employ our powers of mind and body, to produce some innova|tion in the course of nature; and in none of them do we any more. They are all of them therefore equally innocent, or equal|ly criminal. But you are placed by provi|dence, like a centinal, in a particular station,
and when you desert it without being re|called, you are equally guilty of rebellion against your almighty sovereign, and have incurred his displeasure.—I ask, why do you conclude that providence has placed me in this station? for my part I find that I owe my birth to a long chain of causes, of which many depended upon voluntary actions of men. But providence guided all these causes, and nothing hap|pens in the universe without its consent and co-operation. If so, then neither does my death, however voluntary, happen without its consent; and whenever pain or sorrow so far overcome my patience, as to make me tired of life, I may conclude that I am recalled from my station in the clearest and most express terms. 'Tis providence surely that has placed me at this present in this chamber: But may I not leave it when I think pro|per, without being liable to the imputation of having deserted my post or station? When I shall be dead, the principles of
which I am composed will still perform their part in the universe, and will be equally useful in the grand fabrick, as when they composed this individual creature. The difference to the whole will be no greater than betwixt my being in a chamber and in the open air. The one change is of more importance to me than the other; but not more so to the universe.
—'TIS a kind of blasphemy to imagine that any created being can disturb the or|der of the world, or invade the business of Providence! it supposes, that that being possesses powers and faculties, which it received not from its creator, and which are not subordinate to his government and authority. A man may disturb society no doubt, and thereby incur the displea|sure of the Almighty: But the government of the world is placed far beyond his reach and violence. And how does it appear that the Almighty is displeased with those actions that disturb society? By the prin|ciples
which he has implanted in human nature, and which inspire us with a sen|timent of remorse if we ourselves have been guilty of such actions, and with that of blame and disapprobation, if we ever ob|serve them in others:—Let us now exa|mine, according to the method proposed, whether Suicide be of this kind of actions, and be a breach of our duty to our neigh|bour and to society.
A MAN who retires from life does no harm to society: He only ceases to do good; which, if it is an injury, is of the lowest kind.—All our obligations to do good to society seem to imply something reciprocal. I receive the benefits of soci|ety, and therefore ought to promote its in|terests; but when I withdraw myself altoge|ther from society, can I be bound any lon|ger? But allowing that our obligations to do good were perpetual, they have certainly some bounds; I am not obliged to do a small good to society at the expence of a
great harm to myself; why then should I prolong a miserable existence, because of some frivolous advantage which the public may perhaps receive from me? If upon ac|count of age and infirmities, I may lawful|ly resign any office, and employ my time al|together in fencing against these calamities, and alleviating, as much as possible, the miseries of my future life: why may I not cut short these miseries at once by an action which is no more prejudicial to society?—But suppose that it is no lon|ger in my power to promote the interest of society, suppose that I am a burden to it, suppose that my life hinders some person from being much more useful to society. In such cases, my resignation of life must not only be innocent, but laudable. And most people who lie under any temptation to abandon existence, are in some such si|tuation; those who have health, or pow|er, or authority, have commonly better reason to be in humour with the world. (4)
A MAN is engaged in a conspiracy for the public interest; is seized upon suspi|cion; is threatened with the rack; and knows from his own weakness that the se|cret will be extorted from him: Could such a one consult the public interest bet|ter than by putting a quick period to a miserable life? This was the case of the famous and brave Strozi of Florence.—Again, suppose a malefactor is justly con|demned to a shameful death, can any rea|son be imagined, why he may not antici|pate his punishment, and save himself all the anguish of thinking on its dreadful ap|proaches? He invades the business of pro|vidence no more than the magistrate did, who ordered his execution; and his vo|luntary death is equally advantageous to so|ciety, by ridding it of a pernicious mem|ber.
THAT Suicide may often be consistent with interest and with our duty to ourselves, no one can question, who allows that age,
sickness, or misfortune, may render life a burthen, and make it worse even than an|nihilation. I believe that no man ever threw away life, while it was worth keeping. For such is our natural horror of death, that small motives will never be able to reconcile us to it; and though perhaps the situation of a man's health or fortune did not seem to require this remedy, we may at least be assured that any one who, without apparent reason, has had recourse to it, was curst with such an incurable depravity or gloominess of temper as must poison all en|joyment, and render him equally misera|ble as if he had been loaded with the most grievous misfortunes.—If suicide be suppo|sed a crime, 'tis only cowardice can impel us to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should engage us to rid our|selves at once of existence, when it becomes a burthen. 'Tis the only way that we can then be useful to society, by setting an ex|ample, which if imitated, would preserve to every one his chance for happiness in life,
and would effectually free him from all danger of misery* 1.4.
BY the mere light of reason it seems difficult to prove the Immortality of the Soul; the arguments for it are commonly derived either from metaphysical topics, or moral or physical. But in reality 'tis the Gospel and the Gospel alone, that has brought life and immortality to light.
I. METAPHYSICAL topics suppose that the soul is immaterial, and that 'tis im|possible
for thought to belong to a material substance.— (1) But just metaphysics teach us that the notion of substance is wholly confused and imper|fect, and that we have no other idea of any substance, than as an aggregate of parti|cular qualities, inhering in an unknown something. Matter, therefore, and spirit, are at bottom equally unknown, and we cannot determine what qualities inhere in the one or in the other. (2) They like|wise teach us that nothing can be decided a priori concerning any cause or effect, and that experience being the only source of our judgments of this nature, we cannot know from any other principle, whether matter, by its structure or arrangement, may not be the cause of thought. Abstract rea|sonings cannot decide any question of fact or existence.—But admitting a spiritual substance to be dispersed throughout the u|niverse, like the etherial fire of the Stoics, and to be the only inherent subject of thought, we have reason to conclude
from analogy that nature uses it after the manner she does the other substance, mat|ter. She employs it as a kind of paste or clay; modifies it into a variety of forms and existences; dissolves after a time each modification, and from its substance erects a new form. As the same material sub|stance may successively compose the bodies of all animals, the same spiritual sub|stance may compose their minds: Their consciousness, or that system of thought which they formed during life, may be con|tinually dissolved by death. And nothing interests them in the new modification. The most positive assertors of the mortality of the soul, never denied the immortality of its sustance. And that an immaterial substance, as well as a material, may lose its memory or consciousness, appears in part from experience, if the soul be immateri|al.—Reasoning from the common course of nature, and without supposing any new interposition of the supreme cause, which ought always to be excluded from philoso|phy,
what is incorruptible must also be in|generable. The Soul therefore if immor|tal, existed before our birth; and if the former existence no ways concerned us, neither will the latter.—Animals undoubt|edly feel, think, love, hate, will, and even reason, tho' in a more imperfect manner than men; are their souls also immaterial and immortal? (3)
II. LET us now consider the moral argu|ments, chiefly those derived from the jus|tice of God, which is supposed to be farther interested in the farther punishment of the vicious and reward of the virtuous.—But these arguments are grounded on the sup|position that God has attributes beyond what he has exerted in this universe, with which alone we are acquainted. Whence do we infer the existence of these at|tributes?—'Tis very safe for us to af|firm, that whatever we know the Deity to have actually done, is best; but 'tis very dangerous to affirm, that he must always do
what to us seems best. In how many in|stances would this reasoning fail us with regard to the present world?—But if any purpose of nature be clear, we may affirm, that the whole scope and intention of man's creation, so far as we can judge by natural reason, is limited to the present life. With how weak a concern from the original in|herent structure of the mind and passions, does he ever look farther? What compa|rison either for steadiness or efficacy, be|twixt so floating an idea, and the most doubt|ful persuasion of any matter of fact that oc|curs in common life. There arise indeed in some minds some unaccountable terrors with regard to futurity; but these would quickly vanish were they not artificially sostered by precept and education. And those who foster them, what is their motive? Only to gain a livelihood, and to acquire power and riches in this world. Their ve|ry zeal and industry therefore is an argu|gument against them.
WHAT cruelty, what iniquity, what in|justice in nature, to confine all our concern, as well as all our knowledge, to the present life, if there be another scene still waiting us, of infinitely greater consequence? Ought this barbarous deceit to be ascribed to a beneficent and wise being?—Ob|serve with what exact proportion the task to be performed and the performing pow|ers are adjusted throughout all nature. If the reason of man gives him great superio|rity above other animals, his necessities are proportionably multiplied upon him; his whole time, his whole capacity, activity, courage, and passion, find suffici|ent employment in fencing against the mi|series of his present condition, and fre|quently, nay almost always are too slender for the business assigned them.—A pair of shoes perhaps was never yet wrought to the highest degree of perfection which that co|modity is capable of attaining. Yet it is necessary, at least very useful, that there should be some politicians and moralists,
even some geometers, poets, and philoso|phers among mankind. The powers of men are no more superior to their wants, considered merely in this life, than those of foxes and hares are, compared to their wants and to their period of existence. The inference from parity of reason is therefore obvious.—
ON the theory of the Soul's mortality, the inferiority of women's capacity is easily ac|counted for. Their domestic life requires no higher faculties, either of mind or body. This circumstance vanishes and becomes ab|solutely insignificant, on the religious the|ory: the one sex has an equal task to per|form as the other; their powers of reason and resolution ought also to have been e|qual, and both of them infinitely greater than at present. As every effect implies a cause, and that another, till we reach the first cause of all, which is the Deity; every thing that happens is ordained by him, and nothing can be the object of his punish|ment or vengeance.—By what rule are pu|nishments
and rewards distributed? What is the divine standard of merit and demerit? Shall we suppose that human sentiments have place in the Deity? How bold that hypothesis. We have no conception of any other sentiments.—According to hu|man sentiments, sense, courage, good man|ners, industry, prudence, genius, &c. are essential parts of personal merits. Shall we therefore erect an elysium for poets and heroes like that of the antient mythology? Why confine all rewards to one species of virtue? Punishment, without any proper end or purpose, is inconsistent with our ideas of goodness and justice, and no end can be served by it after the whole scene is closed. Punishment, according to our con|ception, should bear some proportion to the offence. Why then eternal punishment for the temporary offences of so frail a creature as man? Can any one approve of Alex|der's rage, who intended to extirminate a whole nation because they had seized his favorite horse Bucephalus?* 1.5
HEAVEN and Hell suppose two distinct species of men, the good and the bad; but the greatest part of mankind float betwixt vice and virtue.—Were one to go round the world with an intention of giving a good supper to the righteous, and a sound drubbing to the wicked, he would frequent|ly be embarrassed in his choice, and would find that the merits and the demerits of most men and women scarcely amount to the va|lue of either.—To suppose measures of ap|probation and blame different from the hu|man confounds every thing. Whence do we learn that there is such a thing as moral dis|tinctions, but from our own sentiments?—What man who has not met with perso|nal provacation (or what good-natured man who has) could inflict on crimes, from the sense of blame alone, even the common, le|gal, frivolous punishments? And does a|ny thing steel the breast of judges and ju|ries against the sentiments of humanity but reflection on necessity and public interest?
By the Roman law those who had been guil|ty of parricide and confessed their crime, were put into a sack alone with an ape, a dog, and a serpent, and thrown into the ri|ver. Death alone was the punishment of those whose who denied their guilt, how|ever fully proved. A criminal was tried before Augustus, and condemned after a full conviction, but the humane emperor, when he put the last interrogatory, gave it such a turn as to lead the wretch into a de|nial of his guilt.
"You surely (said the prince) did not kill your father."* 1.6 This lenity suits our natural ideas of right even towards the greatest of all criminals, and even though it prevents so inconsidera|ble a sufference. Nay even the most bigot|ted priest would naturally without reflecti|on approve of it, provided the crime was not heresy or infidelity; for as these crimes hurt himself in his temporal interest and ad|vantages, perhaps he may not be altogether so
indulgent to them. The chief scource of moral ideas is the reflection on the interest of human society. Ought these interests, so short, so frivolous, to be guarded by pu|nishments eternal and infinite? The dam|nation of one man is an infinitely great|er evil in the universe, than the subver|sion of a thousand millions of kingdoms. Nature has rendered human infancy pecu|liarly frail and mortal, as it were on purpose to refute the notion of a probationary state; the half of mankind die before they are rational creatures.
III. THE Physical arguments from the a|nalogy of nature are strong for the morta|lity of the soul, and are really the only phi|losophical arguments which ought to be ad|mitted with regard to this question, or in|deed any question of fact.—Where any two objects are so closely connected that all al|terations which we have ever seen in the one, are attended with proportionable alter|ations in the other; we ought to conclude
by all rules of analogy, that, when there are still greater alterations produced in the former, and it is totally dissolved, there fol|lows a total dissolution of the latter.—Sleep, a very small effect on the body, is attended with a temporary extinction, at least a great confusion in the soul.—The weakness of the body and that of the mind in infan|cy are exactly proportioned, their vigour in manhood, their sympathetic disorder in sickness; their common gradual decay in old age. The step further seems unavoidable; their common dissolution in death. The last symptoms which the mind discovers are disorder, weakness, insensibility, and stupi|dity, the fore-runners of its annihilation. The farther progress of the same causes en|creasing, the same effects totally extinguish it. Judging by the usual analogy of na|ture, no form can continue when transfer|red to a condition of life very different from the original one, in which it was pla|ced. Trees perish in the water, fishes in the air, animals in the earth. Even so small a difference as that of climate is of|ten
fatal. What reason then to imagine, that an immense alteration, such as is made on the soul by the dissolution of its body and all its organs of thought and sensation, can be effected without the dissolution of the whole? Every thing is in common be|twixt soul and body. The organs of the one are all of them the organs of the other. The existence therefore of the one must be dependant on that of the other.—The souls of animals are allowed to be mortal; and these bear so near a resemblance to the souls of men, that the analogy from one to the other forms a very strong argument. Their bodies are not more resembling; yet no one rejects the argument drawn from compara|tive anatomy. The Metempsychosis is there|fore the only system of this kind that philo|sophy can hearken to. (4)
NOTHING in this world is perpetual, every thing however seemingly firm is in conti|nual flux and change, the world itself gives symptoms of frailty and dissolution. How contrary to analogy, therefore, to imagine
that one single form, seemingly the frailest of any, and subject to the greatest disorders, is immortal and indissoluble? (5) What da|ring theory is that! how lightly, not to say how rashly entertained! How to dispose of the infinite number of posthumous exis|tences ought also to embarrass the religious theory. Every planet in every solar system we are at liberty to imagine peopled with in|telligent mortal beings, at least we can fix on no other supposition. For these then a new universe must every generation be created beyond the bounds of the present u|niverse, or one must have been created at first so prodigiously wise as to admit of this continual influx of beings. (6) Ought such bold suppositions to be received by a|ny philosophy, and that merely on the pre|text of a bare possibility? When it is asked whether Agamemnon, Thersites Hannibal, Varro, and every stupid clown that ever existed in Italy, Seythia, Bactria or Guinea, are now alive; can any man think, that a scrutiny of nature will furnish arguments
strong enough to answer so strange a ques|tion in the affirmative? The want of argu|ment without revelation sufficiently esta|blishes the negative.—
"Quanto facilius (says Pliny* 1.7) "certius que sibi quemque credere, ac specimen securitatis antigene tali sumere experimento."Our insensibility before the composition of the body, seems to natural reason a proof of a like state after dissolu|tion.—Were our horrors of annihilation an original passion, not the effect of our gene|ral love of happiness, it would rather prove the mortality of the soul. For as nature does nothing in vain, she would never give us a horror against an impossible event. She may give us a horror against an una|voidable event, provided our endeavours, as in the present case, may often remove it to some distance. Death is in the end un|avoidable; yet the human species could not be preserved had not nature inspired us with an aversion towards it. All doctrines are to be suspected which are favoured by
our passions, and the hopes and fears which gave rise to this doctrine are very obvi|ous.
'TIS an infinite advantage in every con|troversy to defend the negative. If the question be out of the common experien|ced course of nature, this circumstance is almost if not altogether decisive. By what arguments or analogies can we prove any state of existence, which no one ever saw, and which no way resembles any that ever was seen? Who will repose such trust in any pretended philosophy as to ad|mit upon its testimony the reality of so marvellous a scene? Some new species of logic is requisite for that purpose, and some new faculties of the mind, that may enable us to comprehend that logic.
NOTHING could set in a fuller light the infinite obligations which mankind have to divine revelation, since we find that no other medium could ascertain this great and important truth.
De Divin. lib. ii.
Agamus Dei gratias, quad nemo in vita teneri potest.SEN. Epist. 12.
TACIT. Ann. lib. i.
IT would be easy to prove that suicide is as lawful un|der the Christian dispensation as it was to the Heathens. There is not a single text of scripture which prohibits it. That great and infallible rule of faith and practice which must controul all philosophy and human reasoning, has left us in this particular to our natural liberty. Resignation to Providence is indeed recommended in scripture; but that implies only submission to ills that are unavoidable, not to such as may be remedied by prudence or courage. Thou shalt not kill, is evidently meant to exclude only the killing of others, over whose life we have no authority. That this pre|cept, like most of the scripture precepts, must be modified by reason and common sense, is plain from the practice of magi|strates, who punish criminals capitally, notwithstanding the letter of the law. But were this commandment ever so express against suicide, it would now have no authority, for all the law of Moses is abolished, except so far as it is established by the law of nature. And we have already endeavoured to prove that suicide is not prohibited by that law. In all cases Christians and Heathens are precisely upon the same foot|ing; Cato and Brutus, Arrea and Portia acted herocially; those who now imitate their example ought to receive the same praises from posterity. The power of committing suicide is regarded by Pliny as an advantage which men possess even above the Deity himself.
"Deus non sibi po|test mortem consciscere si velit quod homini dedit optimum in tantis vitae paenis."Lib. II. cap. 7. (5)
Quint. Curtius lib. VI. cap. 5.
Suet. Augus. cap. 3.
Lib. 7. cap. 55,