Part 14

_The desire of posthumous fame is vain and futile._

XCI. There is no appetite or craving of man can be more irrational, than that, which is directed to an object he can never taste of or enjoy; and such a one, is the desire of having his name become famous in the world after his death. When a man is dead, every thing here that respects himself dies also; and what advantage can it be of to him after his decease, that all the world burst forth in acclamations and applauses of his great deeds and talents? The smoke of all this incense vanishes in the air, nor can the least particle of it, touch or affect him to whom it is offered. He feels no more of the praises of his virtues, than a statue; nor is he any more sensible of the celebrations of his grandeur, than an edifice that is erected to perpetuate it. If his works were pleasing in the eye of God, and he is in the regions of rest, he may feel the satisfaction of having left a good example to the world; and all that passes out of that sphere, let the celebrations of the world be what they will, can be of no avail to him. He will either despise, or be totally ignorant of the eulogiums that are bestowed on him by mortals. What convenience or what satisfaction, do either Alexander and Cæsar now enjoy, from being applauded through the globe for the two most illustrious warriors of the world? Homer and Virgil, from being celebrated as the two most elegant poets? and Cicero and Demosthenes, from being admired as the two most eloquent orators? They are perhaps entirely ignorant of all that is said of them here; and if they are permitted to know it, it is most likely, that such knowledge tends more to torment than please them. Empedocles was certainly a great mad-man, if, according to what some have said of him, he precipitated himself into the flames of Mount Ætna, in order that the world upon not finding his body, should imagine he had ascended up to heaven, and would worship him as a deity. This philosopher however, as he was a follower of the Pythagorean system, and believed the transmigration of souls, might expect, that by his being placed successively in a variety of bodies, he should hereafter view with great pleasure, the worship and adoration that was paid to him in this world; but what enjoyment of this sort can a man hope for, who believes that when he leaves these regions, he shall never return to them again? And what can it be to such a man, whether he is worshiped or forgotten? Thus the emperor Adrian was much madder than Empedocles, who without believing in the doctrine of transmigration, erected temples and altars, and appointed priests, making provision at the same time for maintaining them, and providing victims to be sacrificed to his infamous little idol Antinous. Of what service could all this be to that disgraced and unfortunate boy? And we may make the same observation, on the apotheosis and ridiculous deification of the Roman Emperors. Vespasian, although he expected this farce after his death, would be played over with respect to him, treated the thing with the scorn it deserved, by saying to those who surrounded him when he was near his end, _I feel as if I was going to be converted from a man into a deity_.

XCII. That mankind should be desirous of seeing themselves applauded, and their names honoured while living, seems very natural, because they may find a gratification in it; but that they should be anxious for posthumous honours, which they can neither taste or enjoy, seems to bespeak a disordered imagination, and a distempered brain. Ovid paints Sappho, as feeling great satisfaction, at seeing her muse celebrated by all the world.

_At mihi Pegasides blandissima carmina dictant;_ _Jam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum._

Thus far he expressed himself very properly, because he spoke in the name of Sappho while she was living, and might be supposed to be gratified by, and pleased with the aromatic fumes of those acclamations. But he reasoned very ill, when speaking of Hercules and Theseus, he reckoned as a balance for the loss of those heroes, the applauses the world would bestow on their memories:

_Occidit et Theseus, et qui tumulavit Orestem;_ _Sed tamen in laudes vivit uterque suas._

XCIII. The eulogiums of the dead, can only be enjoyed by the living. The relations, the friends, and the country of the deceased, divide among themselves the whole fragrancy of this grateful gale, nor can the least breath of it reach the region, which is inhabited by those who depart hence. There remains to the dead but one happy lot, and that is derived from, and depends on their having died well. _Beati mortui, qui in Domino moriuntur._

PARADOX XI.

_There is no man of a clear and good understanding who is not a good-intentioned one._

XCIV. I believe that all the mortals in every quarter of the Globe, will be struck with surprize, at hearing me broach this paradox, and will look upon it as one of the greatest chimeras in ethics, that ever entered the head of man; for there is scarce any one of the least observation, who cannot affirm and attest, he has seen and known people of very good capacities, who were very perverse and ill-disposed. But I, in opposition to all this, assert that I never met with such a one; and I not only make this declaration, but declare further, that I think it next to impossible that there should be such a man, and that if by chance such a one should be found, he ought to be considered as a monster.

XCV. But in order that we should not misunderstand or confound things, I think it necessary for me to explain, what I understand by an evil-intentioned man. By an evil-intentioned man, then, I mean such a one in whom those vices reign, which are most pernicious to society, that is to say, malignity of heart, unforgivingness, turbulence or restlessness, and a desire of usurping other peoples property; and in general, all sly and crafty persons should be enumerated in the catalogue of evil-intentioned men, such for example, as are attentive to nothing but their own gratifications and emoluments, and who have not the least concern for, or who are totally indifferent about the good of their neighbour, or the welfare of the public.

XCVI. The deformity, the baseness, and the dissonance from natural reason, there is in a person’s doing a voluntary injury to another, is so strikingly represented to a man of a clear and a sound understanding, that except in here and there an instance, where some violent passion intervenes to disturb and disorder the reason, it seems impossible, that a person should voluntarily commit acts that are directly injurious and offensive to his neighbour. And it may be from this principle, that we have seen some who have been reputed as atheists, who, notwithstanding their erroneous belief that there is no such thing as future rewards and punishments, and that they expect no recompence for their good actions, or chastisement for their bad ones hereafter; as members of human society, have behaved well, or at least have done no civil mischief to it; I mean that they have conducted themselves like quiet peaceable people, and have lived contentedly upon their own patrimonies, or on what they have lawfully acquired, and have shewn themselves averse to all violence and injustice. Such among the antients, was Pliny the elder; and such among those of more modern date, was the Englishman Thomas Hobbes.

XCVII. The genuine and true reason of this is, that the existence of a Supreme Being, although it is most plain and clear, is not with respect to the human understanding, self-evident, or, as the Theologians explain the thing, is not _per se nota quo ad nos_; but is made infallibly evident, by deductions drawn from other principles; and where a deduction of this sort is absolutely necessary, a person may suspect, that it is very possible now and then some fallacy may creep in. But the deformity of such vicious actions as we have been speaking of, is evident of itself; and whenever such actions are represented to the understanding, it clearly comprehends their baseness, and the operation of them is odious and apparent in the eyes of every man, unless as we observed before, some circumstance intervenes to disturb his reason.

XCVIII. To this it may be urged by way of objection, in the first place, that in order to perceive and be convinced of the turpitude of those actions, there is no necessity for a man to be possessed of a bright understanding, as a middling one, or even one below the middle class, would be sufficient for this purpose; so that this reasoning will prove the turpitude to be plain to every understanding, high, middling, and low, or else that it is evident to neither of them.

XCIX. To this I answer, that although the thing may be known with intire certainty to every one of them, there is a great difference between the knowledge and comprehension of one man, and that of another. Two understandings that are unequal, notwithstanding they may both know, and be thoroughly persuaded of the same truth, may be struck with it very differently; and in proportion as one of these understandings is the most clear, that one will know it more distinctly, more strikingly, and with a more refined degree of penetration; and in proportion as the other is less clear, that other will perceive it less distinctly, and more confusedly. In consequence of this inequality of understandings, objects make a more strong or a more weak impression on the soul, and have more or less influence to excite in it, these, or those affections. The same infinite goodness of God which is known to the blessed, is known with infallible certainty by the worldly also. How then comes it to pass, that the first love him necessarily and intensely, and that we worldly mortals are so luke-warm in our love of him? This is occasioned by no other cause than the following, that although our knowledge of him is evident, that of the blessed is the most clear, and ours the most obscure; and in proportion as the understanding knows a good or an evil with greater clearness, the will is moved with a greater impetus, to love the first, and abhor the last.

C. This may be very opportunely and aptly explained, by the operation of any corporeal sense; for he whose olfactory nerves are very quick, will be more offended with an ill smell, than one in whom that sensation is more languid and remiss; and although this last may be able clearly to distinguish the ill smell, he will be less disgusted at it; nor will it appear so hateful to him; and this happens from no other reason, than that the olfactory perception of the first is very clear, and that of the second rather obstructed or more dull; and although not only the man who has a very quick and delicate ear, but also he who has one that is more obtuse, may evidently perceive the dissonance of three or four voices which are totally discordant; the last will bear it without being much affected, and the other will be almost distracted by it; and this is all derived from the cause above-mentioned.

CI. And it happens just so with regard to intellectual perception. The deformity of vicious actions, which are self-evident, is apparent and clear, not only to men of perspicuous understandings, but to those of the most inferior capacities, provided they are not quite stupid; but by the first perceiving them with a lively clearness, and the others somewhat confusedly, they produce a kind of horror in those who have that clearness of perception, which does not permit their wills to embrace such objects; while those to whom they do not appear so disgusting and unpleasant, may be betrayed into grasping turpitudes, under the disguise of delights and pleasures. But I would not have it understood that I mean to insinuate by what I have said here, that there ever is a suspension, or obstruction of the operation, of every, or any man’s free will.

CII. It may be objected in the second place, that there are entire nations, among whom it cannot be denied, that there are to be found many men of excellent understandings, who hold robbery, deceit, and even cruelty to be lawful, and that consequently, they cannot consider these things as turpitudes, or have a just sense of their baseness. To this I answer, that our assertion with respect to a good understanding, does not allude to one placed in such a situation. The general error of a nation in any matter whatever, is like a dark fog which bewilders people, causes them to mistake their way, and perplexes the clearest understandings. If in early infancy, when the rational faculties are weak, children are familiarized to, and brought up under the influence of deceitful prejudices; and when they come to years of maturity, they are accustomed to reverence a common error as irrefragable authority; if it should happen afterwards, that a ray of light breaks in upon them, which discovers to them the truth, they timidly fly from the elucidation, distrust their own reason and reflexion, and are apt to suspect such elucidation to be a delusion, and to suppose that it would be criminal in them to regard it.

CIII. I answer secondly, that it is not known with any degree of certainty, that men of excellent understandings, who are educated and brought up in those nations we call barbarous, are infected with all the errors that prevail in those nations; and with respect to myself, I am fully persuaded they are not. We know that various eminent men among the Gentiles, in matters of religion, thought very differently from the populace. It is true however, that there were but few of them who had sufficient resolution to speak out, as they for the most part disguised their opinions, from motives of fear or policy. We ought also to admit, that among the barbarous nations of these times, there are still to be found men of this character. Nor is there any necessity for limiting such an opinion within the bounds of mere conjecture; for there are various historical relations, which bear testimony to actions of heroic virtue, that have been lately done by some of the individuals of those very nations, where maxims of inhumanity are prevalent at this day; of which if it was necessary, a long catalogue might be adduced.

CIV. In the third place, it may be objected, that experience teaches us, there is scarce a country or populous city, where you may not find some people of perspicuous understandings, and who, although they are of wayward dispositions and depraved inclinations, are subtil and penetrating. To this I answer resolutely and determinedly, that I defy any man to produce such an instance. I have known and conversed with many of those people, who have been esteemed men of good understanding, and perverse dispositions, but have always found the common opinion of those persons to be extremely erroneous. The vulgar frequently look upon persons of very superficial talents, as men of great understanding; and upon hearing them talk off hand, although there is nothing solid in what they say, and observing in them a readiness at expressing themselves, and more especially if they deliver themselves with confidence, and a magisterial air, most people are apt to give them credit for being men of admirable understandings; when in truth, there is hardly one out of a hundred of them, who can penetrate more than skin-deep into the objects he converses upon. There is another very common deception in this matter, and that is, looking upon cunning people as men of depth or penetration, when they are as palpably different from one another, as light is from darkness. I call those cunning people, who are solely attentive to nothing but their own concerns, and who by all sorts of under-hand ways and means, and by all kinds of little arts and deceits, are endeavouring to promote their own particular interest. Can these be called men of sublime understandings? To do this, requires but little depth or penetration, as all that is necessary to accomplish such ends, is low craft and roguery; and there is hardly any capacity, be it ever so mean, which cannot comprehend and apply such trivial artifices: every one may arrive at doing this; but a noble understanding, discerning the baseness of them, abominates such practices; although the vulgar, to whose bastard dispositions they are better suited, embrace them with eagerness. Dissimulation, so far from requiring an exalted understanding to support and carry it on, requires none at all, for we see some irrational animals who exercise it with great address. The foxes are very expert at it, but that does not in any wise render their nature superior to that of brutes; and I repeat again, that I never knew an understanding that had any thing of the elevated or sublime in its composition, that did not abhor all duplicity and fraud.

CV. If we see this matter in the other extreme point of view, we shall find it liable to great equivocation. It frequently happens, that a man of very pure virtue, who has somewhat of native dryness or bluntness in his composition, appears to those of rude and uncultivated capacities, as a person of a depraved disposition. Those who are zealous lovers of truth and justice, are accustomed, not always to accommodate themselves to those courteous condescensions; by which people acquire popular acceptation; as by attending to the substance of things, they are apt to overlook forms and ceremonies. Words from their mouths, signify what the sound and sense of them express: they confider courteous dissimulation as a treacherous enemy of virtue; and are ignorant of the art of painting vice in counterfeit colours, for the sake of pleasing or flattering any man; but on the contrary, are always careful to describe it so, as that it may appear in its true native shape, and in all its deformity. The more prevalent lying, deceit, and perfidy is, the more they loath and nauseate it, and are observed to be more strict and severe in their reprehensions of it; and besides, they never look smilingly, but upon those in whom they perceive a clean mind. This unpleasing integrity, is regarded by the bulk of the world, as a kind of misanthropy, or malevolence towards the generality of mankind; and the number of those, who busy themselves in painting such men, as impracticable, perverse, and ill-intentioned is infinite; for they are pleasing but to very few, as there are but few who are pleased with them; so that either from the malice of their opponents, or from the want of a proper knowledge of the world in those that are indifferent with respect to their opinions of them, it easily comes to pass, that a man of exalted and sincere virtue, is often looked upon by a whole town, as a person of intentional malignity.

CVI. Whoever is upon his guard not to fall into one of the two beforementioned errors, and has capacity to distinguish true virtue from false, and a clear and good understanding, from a cloudy, crooked, or crafty one, will be convinced as I myself have been convinced, that there never fails to be much virtue lodged in the person, in whom you find a real good and clear understanding. I would not however be understood to insinuate, that all men of great genius and capacity should be saints; for meritorious virtue, or such as entitles a man to inherit eternal life, is the child of grace, and not of nature. Neither would I be understood to say, that all kinds of moral virtues should be resplendent in such a man as I have been describing, but only those, whose opposite vices, at first sight, and without the assistance of any reasoning or reflection, are manifest and apparent; and whose deformity, at a glance, strikes the eye of every beholder; nor would I even be understood to assert so much as this, without some limitation and exception; for every vehement passion during the time it lasts, will make the most prudent man act like a mad one, and the most acute one, like a fool; but abstracted from the intervention of such accidents, it is my firm opinion, that every man of a clear and good understanding, is an honest and a good-intentioned one.

THE GREAT AND MASTERLY AUTHORITY of EXPERIENCE.

SECT. I.

I. There arrived in the kingdom of Cosmosia, two famous women, who were very opposite to each other; but both with the same design, which was that of obtaining the absolute dominion over that empire. The first was called Solidina, the other Idearia; the first was learned, but simple; the second ignorant, and ostentatious. The people of the country, were ignorant like the last, and simple as the first. Hence, Solidina thought to win them to her by kindness, and by instructing them; and Idearia, to subdue them by craft and imposition. Idearia opened a public school, and promised in pompous language, that in a very short time, and with little or no trouble, she would make all those extremely learned and wise, who chose to attend her lectures. The greatness of the promise, joined to the imposing appearance of the new doctress, mounted in the professional chair, together with her great volubility, and flow of mountebank rhetoric, soon filled the school with pupils. She began her lectures, which all consisted, in laying before her auditors in new and unusual language, the chimeras, contained in the extensive field of the imagination. And, oh wonderful to relate! either Idearia had somewhat of enchantment about her, or else there was something very singular in her method of applying her artifice and cunning; for in a few years after opening her school, she persuaded those miserable people, they perfectly understood all that could be learned.

II. Solidina, pursued a course diametrically opposite to that taken by Idearia. In an humble garb, and without any parade or ostentation, she went from house to house, and familiarizing herself with all men, taught them in plain and easy language, true and useful documents. The most retired cottages, and the most humble work-shops, were schools suited to her doctrines, for she found in all of them, sensible objects, which examined by the help, or auxiliary aid of the understanding, served the purpose of books for teaching and explaining her lessons; and so far was she from inspiring an indiscreet presumption in her disciples, that she ingenuously told them, that all she taught, was a mere trifle, compared to the infinite deal there is to be learned; and that to arrive at a moderate knowledge of things, required infinite labour and application. This modesty of Solidina’s, was very prejudicial to her, because at the very time she made this declaration, Idearia, was boasting and blazoning in her school, that in a concise mode, and with very little trouble, she would make all her auditors universally learned; the consequence of which was, that the pupils of Solidina one after another began to drop off, and go over to Idearia, in hopes that in her school, they should arrive at the summit of learning _per saltum_. What contributed much to forward this defection, was, that Idearia also spoke of Solidina with contempt, calling her base, vile, mechanical, and stupid; by which means, the poor tutress became abandoned by all the people of rank, and was obliged to retire from the city to the villages, where she applied herself to instructing poor husbandmen, in that sort of knowledge, that was necessary and useful, for the cultivation and improvement of their lands.