Chapter VI: Part 6

XLV. But the prodigious child, that was born at Lubec in 1721, and died in 1725, exceeded every thing we have hitherto heard of. His name was Christian Henry Heneiken. The relation I shall give of him, is taken from the first volume of the Memoirs of Trevoux of 1731, into which it was copied, from the accounts we have had of him from various authors of the same city and country, all of whom were esteemed men of the greatest credit and veracity. This surprizing child, at ten months old begun to speak, and at twelve, understood the principal events contained in the Pentateuch; and at thirteen, those of the history of the Old Testament; at fourteen those of the New; and at two years of age, he answered pertinently to any questions that were asked him, concerning antient or modern history, and likewise, with respect to geography. He very soon after, began to speak Latin with ease, and immediately upon that, French also. Before he entered into his fourth year, he knew the genealogies of the principal houses in Europe, and explained sensibly and judiciously, many sentences and passages of holy scripture. He soon after this, learned to write, at a time when he was scarce able to hold the pen. He abhorred all other aliment except milk, which must always be that of the nurse who first begun to suckle him; so that he was not weaned till a few months before his death. He was of a very delicate frame, and frequently visited with sickness. And at length, on the 27th of June, 1725, he died; filling with astonishment all those who knew him, at the constancy and heroic resignation he shewed through the whole course of his sickness, till the period, that he surrendered his soul into the hands of his Creator.

XLVI. I am very well aware, that the circumstances of this history may have been exaggerated, but I do not find any thing impossible in them. Who knows the ultimate bounds, to which the ability of man may extend? Perhaps there may be none assigned to it, but that it may continue to increase more and more, and that the limits of its extension have never yet been fixed or assigned. With respect to his essential perfection, all philosophers and theologians agree, that no creature was ever so perfect, but that God may create another still more perfect. Why then with regard to accidental perfection in the same species, do we not see the same thing? Our gross mode of reasoning, is apt to confine possibility within the narrow limits of our experience. That which we never saw, we imagine can never happen; as if in the little which God has been pleased to present to our view, is displayed the utmost extent of the omnipotent power. Setting bounds to possibility, is setting them to the operations of the all powerful.

XLVII. I agree, that our assent to the existence of a thing, should not be extended so far, as not to be confined within less bounds, than the immense space of possibility; letting our belief be regulated by probability, is much safer, than letting it extend to possibilities; possibility, can only be measured by the extent of the divine power; probability, may be guided and limited by the force and credibility of testification. Thus he would act prudently, who with respect to the history of the child of Lubec, should reject a good portion of the circumstances, but still admit enough of them, to render the story a most wonderful one, the like of which, had never been known in former ages; as it is not probable, that the authors who were the countrymen of the child, should lie exorbitantly, in a case where if they had deviated greatly from the truth, it was in the power of thousands of living witnesses to have convicted them of the imposture.

XLVIII. From the beforementioned examples, and an infinite number of others that might be instanced, may be inferred, the enormous difference there is between some souls and others, which difference, is owing solely to a difference of temperament; compared to which, that produced by a disparity of age, is very small, even if we compute it from early manhood, to the period of decadence. The result of my own observation, with the exception of here and there a rare instance, is, that those who at thirty years old are dull, will always be dull; that those who at that age are imprudent, will always be imprudent; and that those who at thirty, in matters of argument or conversation, do not talk pertinently, or reason well, will never reason well. I do not however deny, that cultivation will not improve both men and plants, but it will never make thorns bear grapes, or brambles figs.

XLIX. I think there seems now to remain but one objection for me to answer out of all those that have been urged to what I have advanced; and that is, that although admitting some have a great natural superiority of talents compared to others; still, the impetuosity and fire which commonly prevails in the flower of a man’s youth, is apt to have a pernicious effect on his conduct. Granted. But besides the exceptions to this rule being infinite, as we every day see youths, who are very sedate and discreet; and to which we may add, that there is another passion very predominant in old people that is productive of much more mischief in public affairs, than the fire or impetuosity of youth; I mean the vice of avarice, in the operations of which, there is not a moment’s relaxation; on the contrary, the passion of anger, is only apt to be excited by particular accidents, and when the ebullitions of choler abate or subside, they are succeeded by long intervals of calm and tranquillity. Anger is a transitory fury, or a fever of short duration, whose attacks are sudden, and last but for a little while, and which in a moderate space of time vanish and disappears; but avarice is a harpy, that has nested itself in the heart, and is a dropsy of the soul, which increases and grows worse every day. The first, now and then disturbs and irritates the moral temper of man; the other, vitiates all his actions, because its venomous influence ever exists. The first grows weaker every day, and is enfeebled by its own exertions; the other, is incessantly gaining new strength, and becoming more powerful, _vires acquirit eundo_; so that avarice contrary to the ordinary course of nature, is by so much the more vigorous, by so much the older it grows; it is a passion, that not only acts in cold blood, but acts with so much the more activity, the colder the blood grows; and hence it is, that its mischiefs are not only greater than those produced by anger; but they are also much more incurable. Thus if the infirmities incident to youth, are pernicious in those who occupy posts of importance in the public line, those that are attendant on old age are much more so.

PARADOX V.

_All Handicraft Trades Should be hereditary._

L. In Lacedemonia, which was one of the best-governed states of antiquity, it was an inviolable law, as Herodotus informs us, that the son of a husbandman, should be bred a husbandman, and the son of a taylor, a taylor, and the same with respect to all other occupations where people earn their living by their labour. The same practice prevailed in Egypt, and prevails among the idolatrous people of Indostan at this day.

LI. I know very well, that to enforce the importance and propriety of this paradox, the authority of these, and other such examples that might be instanced, is weak, compared to the infinite number of opposite ones that might be produced against it. Therefore, it will be absolutely necessary for us to have recourse to reason, to supply this defect of authority.

LII. It appears to me, that two advantages of great importance would be derived to the public by trades being hereditary; the first of which is, that it would contribute greatly to the perfectioning of arts. When there is no other relation or connexion between the master and his pupil, than the latter being the apprentice of the first, the master is seldom very anxious about instructing his scholar; and what is more, he is not well disposed to communicate to him any particular secrets of his art, which he has acquired by virtue of his own penetration and experience; and generally, contents himself with instructing him in what is commonly known and practised. But there is no reserve of this sort, when the instruction is conveyed from the father to his son, for paternal love cannot assent to it; and hence it is, that where the skill of the master is equal, he will be better taught who learns of his father, than he who is instructed by a stranger.

LIII. By this total translation of skill from father to son, and by the same trade being continued in, and handed down to their posterity, there would without doubt result this benefit, that the art of it would be improved, and that it would continue advancing every age, nearer and nearer to perfection. It is very common, for one artist to make some improvements on what he has learned from another; and it is very common also, for him who has made them, to let them die and be buried with him; on account of its being against his interest, to communicate them to other people. This impediment to making his improvements known, seldom subsists between father and son; because the father, most commonly considers the interest of his son as his own; and consequently, communicates to his son all he knows. If the son from his own ingenuity, makes improvements on what he has been taught by his father, and hands them down to the grandson; and they all continue to do the same by their successors; the arts by this means, would proceed to approach nearer to perfection every generation.

LIV. There are two other circumstances that are very worthy of being attended to, which would contribute to recommend this political system for improving the arts; the one is, that children would begin to learn much sooner than they commonly do. In the house of an artificer, where the son is destined to follow the trade of his father, he will scarce have done sucking the breast of his mother, when he will begin to drink the milk of his father’s instruction; in consequence of which, not only time would be gained, but his application to the business would become more natural to him. The other circumstance is, that the state would avoid the loss of many good artificers, which is occasioned by the inconstancy of the tempers and dispositions of youth. Those, who by continuing to work at the trade they first began to learn, would become excellent artificers, by going on to change their occupations continually, would never arrive at being more, than mere novices, or beginners; and this mischief would be avoided, by obliging the son of every handicraft person, to follow the trade of his father.

LV. The second convenience that would result to the public by trades being hereditary, is, that it would ascertain the ranks and classes of people in a state; it being no uncommon thing, for disputes to arise between families, about birth and precedence; which inconvenience would be remedied by such a regulation, as in such a case, the rank of most people would be ascertained, and the cause of these disputes in a great measure removed.

PARADOX VI.

_Torture is a very fallible means for discovering the truth in criminal Cases._

LVI. I enter upon this essay, begging permission of all tribunals of justice to speak my sentiments on this head. I venerate the laws and the use of them; but as I am treating here of such as are purely human, I apprehend I may be permitted to reason on the tendency or propriety of them. Nor is the torture being admitted in the ecclesiastical courts, as a mode of enquiry in the examination into crimes, any objection to my doing this, for as the learned Canonist Francis Schomer observes, this practice is not conformable to the antient discipline of the church; and he quotes other authors in support of this opinion, and says further, that in a long course of time, it by little and little, came to be transferred from the secular tribunals to the ecclesiastical ones: _Predetentim à curiis sæcularibus ad ecclesiasticas pervenisse_ (Schmier in Supplem. ad lib. v. Decret); so that doubting of the propriety of inquiring by torture in the ecclesiastical courts, amounts to no more, than disputing whether the antient or modern practice of those courts, is the most consonant to reason.

LVII. Besides, this being a matter which in its own nature is open to controversy, there are two notable circumstances in it, which encourage me to enter upon the discussion of the point. The first is, that very many people think as I do on the subject, and that among those very many, there are more than a few of the very judges, who practise ordering the torture, in cases where that practice has been long established. Their sentiments in theory do not correspond with their conduct, but notwithstanding this, they act as they should do, for they have no authority to dispense with the laws, but are only ministerial under them. The second is, that the most learned father Claudius Lacroix, has preceded me in publishing the same sentiments I entertain on this subject, in his first volume of Moral Theology, lib. iv. &c.

LVIII. Countenanced and encouraged by so illustrious an author, whose opinion in questions of morality is so much respected, and so generally assented to by all Christendom, I shall enter upon the undertaking boldly, and shall argue with spirit in support of his opinion and my own. The extent of the question is but short, and whenever reason sets its foot within its boundary, it soon arrives at the end of it.

LIX. It cannot be denied, that the not confessing in the torture, depends upon the spirit and fortitude of the person tortured, to resist the rigour of that trial; and I ask now, is this spirit and fortitude produced by the innocence of such a person? It clearly is not, but rather by the robustness of mind or body which that person possesses. The torture then, can be of no use to ascertain the guilt or innocence of any one, but it is the bodily strength or weakness of mind, of whoever is unfortunate enough to experience its rigour, that determines the point.

LX. Nero having unjustly repudiated his wife Octavia, and married Poppea, she not content with having usurped the bridal bed, and crown of Octavia, but in order to deprive her of life and honour also, accused her of having had a criminal correspondence with a slave. For the purpose of ascertaining the guilt of Octavia, six of her female servants were put to answer by the torture; and what was the result of this? why, that some of them declared her guilty, and others denied it. Did not they all know that the accusation was false? and do not all authors agree that they did? But what did this signify, if, in the torture, their pain, and not their veracity, influenced them to confess she was guilty of the crime? Whoever has fortitude enough to endure the rigour of the cord, will deny the fault he is tortured to confess, although he was really guilty of it; whoever has not, will confess a crime he never committed. The effects of the torture on the servants of Octavia, tended to prove the fortitude of some of then, and the weakness of others; but for ascertaining the truth were of no use.

LXI. It seems then, that the innocent are exposed to equal danger from the torture with the guilty. A terrible inconvenience this, but the worst part of it is, that the danger is not equal, but greater on the side of innocence. I may be told that I am advancing a new paradox, and I confess that I am, but if I am not greatly mistaken, I shall make it appear, that I have been advancing nothing that is not strictly true. It is a known fact, that those who are daring enough to commit great crimes, are much more hardened, robust, and ferocious people, than those who lead a quiet and regular life. It should follow then from these premises, that they are better calculated to endure the rigours of a torture, than the tranquil and inoffensive part of mankind; and it will also follow from thence, that these last will be more likely to confess themselves guilty of a crime they are falsely accused of, than the others will be, to confess one they have really committed. This is a remark made by father Lacroix, and the following are his words: _sequitur per torturas sæpè everti justitiam, quia innocentes, qui sæpè sunt impatientes dolorum, coguntur se fateri nocentes; e contra nocentes, qui plerumque sunt ferociores, tolerata tortura se probant innocentes._

LXII. On the contrary, those of quiet and peaceable dispositions, are generally people of more delicate feelings than the others, and especially, if their mode of living has corresponded with the native excellence of their tempers. From whence it should follow, that the probable result of putting one of these to the torture, would be, that he would sooner confess himself guilty of a crime he never committed, than one of the others, would own himself guilty of one he had actually perpetrated.

LXIII. I consider the sentiment of Plato to be a true one, who says, that great vices, no less than great virtues, require great powers and fortitude to exercise them. The serenity with which Geronimus Olgiatus, Balthasar Gerardus, and Francis Ravillac, the first for the assassination of Galeazus Maria duke of Milan, the second for that of William prince of Orange, and the third for that of Henry the Fourth of France, fully demonstrate, that those who dare attempt great and dangerous things, are capable of enduring great torments.

LXIV. I shall conclude this subject, with the striking, and most efficacious testimony of Father Frederic Spe, which throws all the light upon this matter that can be wished for, or desired. This learned German Jesuit, when he is treating of the little dependance there is to be placed on the confessions of people accused of witchcraft, which confessions have been extorted from them by the rack; quotes, in support of what he advances, the testimony of the Baron de Leibnitz, and Vincent Placcius, whom he supposes to be the author of the anonymous Treatise, intituled, _Cautio criminalis in processu contra sagas_.

LXV. Father Spe, when he is speaking of the confessions that have been made by supposed witches and wizards, when put to torture, delivers himself thus; the numbers of lyes they will tell, both of themselves and others, is incredible. All which the judges are desirous they should say is true, they confess to be true; and they own every thing they would have them own of themselves, compelled to it by the violence of the torture; and they do not afterwards dare to retract what they have said, for fear of being tortured again; thus these miserable wretches, go to their deaths attesting a falsehood. Father Spe concludes in this manner, I am certain that what I have said is just and right, and I appeal for the truth of it, to the judge of that supreme tribunal, where all mankind, both quick and dead, will one day be sentenced to rewards and punishments, proportioned to their merits and demerits.

LXVI. I declare that when I first read this account, I found my whole frame pervaded by a deep melancholy sensation, that resembled somewhat like horror mixed with pity. He who gives the relation, is a learned, grave, exemplary, and sound divine, instructed in this case, not by conjectural reasoning, but by certain informations, acquired in the sacred confessional chair, and taken from the mouths of those, who were on the point of being led to execution as guilty people; and this he declared from repeated experience he had had of those matters, during a long course of years. What can be objected that is deserving of any attention, to so conclusive a testimony?

LXVII. The certainty Father Spe had, of the almost invincible force of the torture, to oblige innocent people to confess themselves guilty of crimes they never committed, is very forcibly illustrated, in a vehement declaration to the judges, with which he concludes his Essay. He says to them, why are you so solicitous in searching out, and why do you take so much pains to discover, people who are guilty of witchcraft? There is no necessity for your giving yourselves all this trouble, for if you want to discover more, I can tell you how to furnish yourselves with them, without labour or difficulty; take the first Capuchins, the first Jesuits, and the first men of any other religious order, that you shall meet by chance, and put them to the torture; and if you shall be desirous of making them do so, you will find that there is scarce one of them, who will not confess that he has been guilty of the crime of witchcraft. If any of them should deny it, repeat the torture two or three times, and I will engage that you will bring them to. Pluck out their hair by the roots, exorcise them, and repeat to them the common-place cant that the devil has hardened them; and as if you was convinced this suspicion was just, behave to them, with determined inflexibility, and you will perceive, that there is not one among them, who will refuse to submit. I have pointed out to you already how you may be supplied with an ample stock of sorcerers, but if you want more still, take the prelates of the churches, and all the canons and doctors belonging to them; and by the application of the same means, you will be convinced, that they may be all brought to confess themselves guilty of witchcraft; for people who have been bred up in so delicate a way, will hardly find themselves able to resist the rigours of a torture. But if you are not satisfied with this supply, and should want more still, I would recommend to you, to put one or two of yourselves to the torture, and you will find that you will confess also in the same manner the others have done; and if immediately after this, you were to torture me, you would be satisfied, that I should do the same. And by this mode of proceeding, you may make witches, wizards, and magicians, of all mankind.

LXVIII. I am ready to admit, that so vehement a declamation, should not be made to all judges indifferently, but that it should be addressed only to such as proceeded with the little caution those did whom Father Spe alludes to; although it is certain, that in accusations for witchcraft, there is more danger of innocent people being brought to capital punishment by the torture, than there is by charges of any other nature. Every man of discretion knows, upon what ridiculous grounds, the common people spread reports of folks being guilty of witchcraft, and with what ease the world believe them, and how ready they are to testify to the truth of such reports. In consequence of which, if the accused persons happen to be brought before judges, who, like the rustic vulgar, are filled with the notion or belief, that there are multitudes of witches and wizards, they immediately have recourse to the torture, and innocent people are tormented like delinquents. From whence it follows, that those who are falsely accused, from their inability to resist the pain of the rack, assent to the interrogatory, and against their consciences own themselves guilty. To this number, we may add many others, who own themselves guilty from delusion or infatuation. This delusion is contagious, and multiplies and spreads exceedingly, whenever there prevails a rage for finding out witchcrafts; for the numbers of these delinquents are increased, in all places where there are officious inquisitors after sorcerers, just as the numbers of possessed people are, where there are plenty of persevering and absurd exorcists.

LXIX. But notwithstanding that in such accusations, on account of their being so frequently ill-founded, the hazard of innocence being oppressed by the anguish of the torture becomes greater than in other cases; still the same danger subsists, though not in so great a degree, with respect to all those who are falsely accused of any other serious crimes. I mean, that if any one from want of fortitude, confesses in the torture the crime of witchcraft, which he is quite innocent of, he may in the same manner, and by the same means, be brought to confess himself guilty of a murder, a sacrilege, a robbery, or any other great offence he never committed. Thus the experience of the learned Jesuit, with respect to the fallibility of the torture in the examination into the truth of witchcraft; identifies and proves its fallibility, in the inquiry into the certainty, of whether any other person has been guilty of a crime he stands accused of.

PARADOX VII.

_It should be the Duty of Magistrates, to oblige every individual in a state to earn his own living._

LXX. This was one of the laws of the most prudent Solon; and it was so inviolably observed in Athens, that Athenæus tells us, the two philosophers Asclepiades and Menedemus, were convened before the Areopagus, to give an account how they got their living; and they obviated the charge that had been brought against them, of leading an idle life, and having no visible means of subsistence; by proving, that they earned two drachmas every night, by grinding in, or turning a horse-mill; and Herodotus says, that before the days of Solon, this same law had been established in Egypt by King Amasis.

LXXI. There is no doubt, but the same establishment would be useful in all states. Why do I say useful? It would be laudable also, and of the utmost importance. By a careful examination into, and attention to this matter, communities would be freed from the nuisance of great numbers of drones, and poisonous reptiles. There is scarce a populous town or city, where you don’t see great numbers of people, who without any estate or income, and without employing themselves in any honest or useful occupation, live well in their houses, and appear genteelly and handsomely dressed in the streets. And what are the funds by which they support all this? why some of them support themselves, by thefts and robberies; others by the vile practice, of prostituting the beauty of their wives for hire; others by money they borrow of a thousand people, without any intention of ever paying it; others by tricks and cheats of various kinds, with which they impose upon innocent and unguarded people; and indeed, if the mask was to be taken off from all those who are said to live by their ingenuity, it would be found, that almost all of them, live by foul practices and roguery; and the mask would be taken off, by adopting the before proposed examination and enquiry, and by providing, and rigorously executing punishments proportioned to such evils, the body politic, would be purged and cleansed from an infinite number of vicious humours.

PARADOX VIII.

_A great part of what is expended in Alms, is not only thrown away, but does mischief._

LXXII. The following sentence of King David’s is a remarkable one; _Blessed is he who exercises his attention and his understanding, for the relief of the poor and the needy._ Beatus qui intelligit super egenum, et pauperem.—He does not say, blessed is he who to succour the poor, exercises his love, his compassion, or his charity, but blessed is he who exercises his attention or understanding on this object. There is doubtless the appearance of a mystery in this, but the mystery is, that alms, unless distributed with understanding, discretion, and judgment, do no good.

LXXIII. A hand that is precipitate in giving, such a one for example, as Claudian represents that of Probus to have been,

_Præceps illa manus fluvios superabat Ibèros_
_Aurea dona vomens_—

who relieved many poor, but at the same time supported many people in idleness; and such conduct not only supports, but it creates or breeds up many such, for wherever alms are distributed copiously and without discretion, there will be found many people, who without this assistance would betake themselves to work to procure themselves a livelihood, who at present live idly, and omit their own industry, which they are enabled to do, at the expence, and by the profusion of others. The evils that result to a state from such imprudent dispensations, are sufficiently serious; it loses by this means, the work of a great many useful hands, and the numbers of the indolent, vicious, and profligate, are greatly increased by it.

LXXIV. It is said of a man who distributes great quantities of alms, that he gives with both hands; but he should remember, that according to the directions of our Lord and Saviour, he should only give with one; he says, when you dispense alms, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand does: _te autem faciente eleemosynam, nesciat sinistra tua quid faciat dextra tua_. This implies, that it is with the right hand only that alms should be given. If I am told that I dwell too much on the literal meaning of the word, I answer it was never my intention to do so; for I am inclined to think, there is a profound implied sentiment couched under this description. It is the constant stile of holy writ, to use the expression right hand, to symbolize or define good works, and the expression left hand to signify the contrary; and hence it is, that in many parts of it, when it speaks of the hand of God, it never mentions it in an emphatical manner, without the addition of the adverb right, which is used to convey an idea, that the operations of God are just and holy. Christ then requires, that alms should be given with the right hand, by which expression, we may suppose he meant to signify, that there are good and bad alms, and that he approves the first, and condemns the others; and also to prohibit our giving with both hands, for that this would be proceeding without choice or distinction, and would also confound the good with the bad.

LXXV. I know some divines are of opinion, that we should bellow our charity, and that it is not incumbent on us to examine scrupulously into the necessities of those we bestow it on; but this is no argument why a state should not take proper precautions, to prevent those from receiving the benefit of charitable christian donations, who ought to get their living by their labour, and to exclude all such from being partakers of this benevolence, who surrender themselves up to indolence, and a voluntary and vicious state of poverty.

PARADOX IX.

_Death should not be dreaded, on account of what there is simply in the thing itself, or on account of what a person feels at that crisis._

LXXVI. There is a fear of death, which is well founded and salutary; another, which is ill founded and pernicious; and another, which ought to be indifferent, because it is natural, and which only by being carried to too great an excess can become vicious. He fears death reasonably and profitably, who contemplates it as a transition from hence to eternity; he fears it naturally, who considers it as the termination of his life; and he fears it unreasonably, who viewing it simply with regard to what there is in the thing itself, abstracted from all that has preceded, and all that is to follow it, supposes that it will be attended with excessive pain.

LXXVII. This apprehension, although it is very common both among the ignorant and the learned, I look upon to be chimerical and vain, and to have no foundation in truth, therefore, I shall not scruple placing it in the catalogue of vulgar errors. I don’t mean to treat here, of the pains incident to diseases which dispose or lead to death, which without doubt are often very severe; but I only mean to enquire or examine, whether it is probable we feel any, or any very sensible pain, at that moment when the soul is separated from the body. It is generally thought, that at that instant, a more intense pain is felt, than can be produced by all the torments a man is capable of inventing. Authors exaggerate this pain in books, orators in pulpits, and all sorts of people in conversation, and reason upon it in the following manner. If, say they, tearing a nail from the finger, or a finger from the hand, produces a pain so acute, that a man is scarce able to endure it, what must he feel, or how will he be able to bear that which tears the soul from the body? Here the strict union between these parts is described in the most feeling manner, in order to enhance or aggravate the sensation that must be experienced at their separation; and they compare it to the final parting of two fast or fond friends, who have lived long and happily together; or to two integrant parts of an animated body, the division of which is the more painful, the more firmly and intimately they are united together. To heighten this description, they add, that this pain pervades all, and every one of the parts of the human body, both internal and external, because the soul is torn equally from them all alike; which is a universality, that cannot exist in any other pain, because he who is roasted alive, or thrown into a great fire, does not feel pain in his entrails, at the time his external parts begin to scorch: agreeable to this mode of reasoning, they conclude, that the pain which is felt at the moment of death, is enormous, beyond all imagination and description.

LXXVIII. I see this matter in quite a different light, and look upon all this aggravated degree of pain to be imaginary, and consider the reasoning by which the existence of it is attempted to be proved, as fallacious and delusive. It is confounding our ideas of objects, to suppose that the division of integral parts, is analogous to the separation of the soul from the body. The pain in the first instance, consists in the forcibly breaking their connexions, or in the first shocks of the violence, which disposes to their disunion. In the separation of the soul from the body, there is no insertion of material fibres to be torn out by the roots, nor any division to be made of connected substantial parts. From whence then can bodily pain be derived?

LXXIX. The using the same words promiscuously, causes mankind to run into infinite errors, and especially if the application of them is made to things that are fundamentally very different. The expression _tearing the soul from the body_, fascinates or misleads many people in the business we are now treating of; the phrase should be understood in a figurative sense, and we are apt to construe it in a strict or literal one. In consequence of which, as we know we can’t tear from our bodies, the most minute shred, without feeling great pain, or even extract any foreign substance, that has been violently introduced into, and sticks in any part of our frame, without being liable to the same sensation; led away then and betrayed by the sound of the expression, we are apt to imagine, that something similar happens in the separation of the soul from the body; but the soul is a pure spirit, that can neither adhere, or be made to adhere to any body whatever, nor can it be bound to it by ligatures, nor united with it by fibres, nor fixed to it by any kind of fastening, nor intangled with it by any kind of roots or insertions; and finally, the mode of its union to the body, is incomprehensible to all our philosophy or understanding; and consequently, a description of its disunion cannot be given in the words of any language. There is no doubt, but the term _tearing from_ is metaphorical; and that we might with less impropriety, although we never can with propriety, in describing the separation of the soul from the body, say, that it evaporated off, it was dissipated, or that it had been exhaled, than that it had been torn away; for its disunion from the body, is performed by a movement that is supremely insensible, because on the part of the corporeal substance, there is not the least resistance made to its flying off. Vapours are continually exhaling from every part of our bodies, without giving us the least pain. And why is this? Why it is, because that on account of their thinness and delicacy, they find no opposition in their passage, either from the solids, or the pores of the skin. What obstruction then can you suppose the soul meets with, in its exit from the body, which is infinitely more subtil and thin, than the finest vapours?

LXXX. Let us contemplate the thing in another point of view; and admit that the soul at the time of its being snatched away from the body, caused a violent shock, like that of tearing to pieces all the entrails, and inverting the whole interior organization. I say that even supposing this, the pain that it would occasion would be very slight, or next to nothing; and the reason is, because that in those ultimate stages of life, all the faculties are so extremely languid, and the operations of nature so feeble and remiss, as hardly to be perceived; and the sensation of pain, which is one of those faculties, being in the same state with the others, and the agent which is to stimulate them being equally feeble with the rest; although in the time of vigour, it was capable of exerting a force that had the power of producing great pain, in the present state of things, it is not capable of giving a shock that can excite any very acute sensation, nor if it was, is the subject it is exercised upon capable of perceiving, or being violently affected by it.

LXXXI. I am inclined to think, that a few moments before death, there comes on a kind of half death, or stupor, that is something like a lethargy or swooning, and that in this interval, there remains no kind of recollection or reflexion; and it is probable, that the morning of our life, and the evening of our death, are preceded by a sort of crepuscules or twilight, which brighten and grow clearer as the day of our life comes on, and which darken and grow more obscure, as the total night of our death draws near.

LXXXII. Hitherto we have been treating of natural deaths; but violent deaths, which do not happen till three or four days after receiving the injury that occasions them, may be considered to come under the description of natural ones; as we may suppose those people die in the same way, that those do who are carried off by an acute disease.

LXXXIII. Sudden violent deaths, which are so much dreaded, are the least painful of all; and indeed I was about to say, that people in such cases, hardly feel any pain at all, or at most but an instantaneous one; because the operation of the cause which induces them, takes away in a moment, all sense of feeling. It is well known, that those who have fallen from a great height, and have lain a considerable time afterwards as if they were dead, have, when they came to themselves, affirmed, they did not feel the blow they received upon coming to the ground. The great Chancellor Bacon, tells a story of a gentleman who was very desirous of knowing what people felt who were hanged, and in order to be satisfied about it, determined to make an experiment of the thing on himself. For this purpose, he fastened a rope to the cieling of a room, in which rope he made a noose, and after adjusting it to a proper length, he stood upon a stool, and fixed the nooze round his neck, in the expectation, that after suffering himself to be suspended, he should be able to recover the stool again; but the good gentleman was a little out in his calculation; for if it had not been for a friend who was present, to whom he had communicated what he intended to do, and who cut the rope in time, the experimental philosopher had been as dead as if he had been executed by the hands of the hangman. The account he gave of this matter was, that from the moment his body became suspended by the rope, he lost all sense and recollection; that he had not the least remembrance of the stool, or apprehension of the danger he was in, nor even any sensation of pain, arising from the suffocation that was brought on.

LXXXIV. This, I firmly believe, is what happens to all those who are executed by the hands of justice, whether they are hanged, strangled by the bow-string, or beheaded; and in general, to all those who suffer violent deaths that are as sudden as these are; for they can only feel a momentary or instantaneous pain, and the instant they receive the fatal blow, they are from that time, to the separation of the soul from the body, mere effigies of men, and have no more sensation of pain, than stocks or stones; and notwithstanding, that between the intermediate space of their receiving the blow, or in case they are hanged, of being turned off, they are seen to make some convulsive motions, these motions are merely mechanical, and are by no means governed by the will, or directed by reason.

LXXXV. We will not exempt, as coming under this general rule, even those who are burnt alive. This is a sort of punishment, which strikes all the world with extreme horror, because they generally conceive, that from the instant a person who is executed in this way, is thrown into the fire, to the time of his resigning his last breath, he feels the excruciating torments of the fire. But I am of opinion, that he feels nothing after the first minute that he is committed to the flames; nor can I conceive, that his perception of pain can endure even so long as that.

LXXXVI. I think I have tolerably well proved, what I at first asserted; but as the reader may object, that this paradox ought to have been classed among physical matters, instead of among moral and political ones, I will endeavour now, to remove this objection; which I hope I shall be able to do, notwithstanding the decadence of the faculties, and the want of sensation at the moment of death, are properer objects for philosophical, than moral speculations. I shall begin with observing, that we ought to distinguish between the matter of the proof, and the essence of the subject we are handling. The subject in the present case, consists in a theoretical proposition, that death with respect to what there is simply and merely in the thing itself, ought not to be feared, or that the fear of death, considered in this manner, is not reasonable or well-founded; now thus considered, the question is purely a moral one, because it directly combats an inordinate passion of the soul. The proofs of the truth of the proposition, appertain to philosophy; but this is what we see happen every day with regard to other moral questions. When the question is, whether a marriage should be dissolved on account of imbecility, all the proofs in the trial are purely physical, &c.

LXXXVII. But the question more immediately appertains to morality, on account of the end for which I proposed it, than it does with respect to its own proper matter; for this end is a point of morality of the most serious importance. There is great necessity for banishing this panic terror, and this dismal apprehension of the tormenting pains of death. It is very common to see dying people (and I speak of what I have known and experienced myself) extremely distressed by this idea, not so much on account of the dread of the exquisite pain itself, as on account of the consequences that may result from it. They figure to themselves, that the pains which terminate this mortal life, are so extremely intense, that they will occasion them to lose all patience, and prevent their submitting themselves to the will of Providence with the christian resignation they ought; and are also apprehensive, that it would cause them to break out into furious acts of desperation. This anxiety has such an effect on them, that it prevents the operation of those christian dispositions, that should accompany a man in his last moments, and which are so necessary to promote his dying a good death; and besides this, they even put him in danger of distrusting the Divine Goodness at so critical a period. I have seen many who were in their perfect senses, and who had been people of good and exemplary lives, who have been greatly distressed by this idea;

_O genus attonitum gelidæ formidine mortis!_

LXXXVIII. I suppose that sentence of St. Paul’s, _Fidelis autem Deus est, qui non patietur vos tentari supra id quod potestis_, in English, _God is good and just, and will not suffer you to be tried or tempted beyond your strength_, would be an excellent antidote for this malady. The thinking otherwise of the Deity, would not be contemplating him, as a most merciful father, nor as a just God, but considering him as a cruel tyrant, who at the moment on which your eternal happiness depends, should afflict you so severely, as to cause you to commit acts of desperation. What faith, and the light of natural reason teaches us, is, that his goodness never permits the rigour of the trial, to exceed the power of the soul to contend with and resist it; and as I observed before, this reflexion is an excellent antidote against the malady we have been speaking of; but with all this, if it is not assisted and enforced by the persuasive eloquence of an able friend, or a good pastoral director, it is apt to lose some of its efficacy, and not to quiet the fluctuations of the mind so thoroughly as could be wished, and especially if not attended to in time; and I therefore think that it would be necessary, whether sick or well, for all people to remain in a firm persuasion, that these excruciating pains in the article of death are imaginary.

_Appendix to the foregoing._

LXXXIX. I have sometimes observed, that those who attend on dying people have been much dejected upon finding them in their last moments, make some very irregular and extraordinary motions, and have been afraid and believed that those agitations, had proceeded from some impatience that had seized them. But let them not be uneasy on this account; because it is most likely, that these motions are merely mechanical; and that in case they should not be so, there is no mischief to be apprehended from them; for in that proximate state to death, if people are not deprived of their senses, the use of their reason is so feeble, or so confused, that very little, if any, of that free will can be exercised by them which is necessary to constitute sin, or at least any serious sin; for no intoxicated man, nor any one at the instant he awakes from a profound sleep, can be in a more stunned or stupified state, than a dying person at such a crisis.

XC. Finally, both with respect to the matter of this appendix, as well as with regard to that of the subject of this Essay, I shall proceed to give a last, and most efficacious consolation, against the apprehension, that the extreme pains of death are likely to endanger the loss of people’s souls; for admitting that those pains were real, and as severe as they are represented to be, is there any danger that the dying person who is oppressed by them, should fall into the serious sin of impatience, or that he should incur the guilt of any other mortal crime? To this, I resolutely answer that he could not; for the same reasoning that states the pain to be so insufferably intense, removes all the hazard of sinning, because it must disturb the understanding to such a degree, as to deprive a man of all free will. This is a consequence resulting from all passions that are excessively violent, as is agreed by all philosophers and theologians. Virgil, who had great judgment and penetration in these matters, represents Chorœbus, who had been totally deprived of his senses by grief for the imprisonment of his beloved Cassandra, as divested of all free will or reflexion also, in the following lines:

_Non tulit hanc speciem furiatâ mente Chorœbus,_
_Et sese medium injecit moriturus in agmen._

PARADOX X.

_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_.