MATTER IS INCAPABLE OF SENSATION.
12. The phenomenon of sensibility reveals to us the existence of an order of beings distinct from matter. However perfect we may suppose material organization, it cannot rise to sensation; matter is wholly incapable of sensation; and the absurd system of materialism can neither explain the phenomena of intelligence, nor even of sensation.
It is of little consequence to us that we do not know the intrinsical nature of sensitive being, or of matter; it is enough to know their essential properties, in order to infer with certainty that they belong to distinct orders. It is not true that the principal idea of the essence of things is necessary, in order to demonstrate their absolute contradiction; thousands of times we consider two geometrical figures whose essential property we do not know; yet not, therefore, do we fail to see that they are different, and that one cannot possibly be the other.
Matter, whatever opinion may be entertained of its essential property, is necessarily a composite being; matter without parts, is not matter. A composite being, although calledone, inasmuch as its parts are united together, and conspire to the same end, is always a collection of many beings; for the parts though united are still distinct If sensation could be predicated of a composite being, the sensitive would not be a single being, but a collection of beings; but sensation essentially belongs to a being which isone, and if divided is destroyed; therefore, no composite being, however well organized, is capable of sensation.
If we observe what takes place in us, and reason from analogy, to other sensitive beings, we shall discover amid the variety of sensations a single being which perceives them; it is one and the same being that hears, sees, touches, smells, and tastes; that remembers sensations after they have disappeared; that seeks them when agreeable, and avoids them when unpleasant, enjoys the former and suffers in the latter. All this enters into the idea of sensitive being; if brutes had not thiscommonsubject of all sensations; were they notonein the midst of multiplicity,identicalin diversity, andpermanentunder succession, they would not be sensitive beings, such as we conceive them to be; they would have no sensation, properly so called; for there is no sensation, in the sense in which we here understand it, without a being affected by it, a being which perceives it.
If we imagine a flow and ebb of sensations without any connection, without a constant being to experience them, the result will not be a sensitive being, but a collection of phenomena, each one of which by itself alone offers the same difficulty as all united, the necessity of a being to experience it.
13. Let us take a being composed of two parts, A and B, and see if it can acquire, for instance, the sensation of sound. If both parts perceive, either both perceive the whole sound, or each a portion of it. If both perceive it entire, one of them is superfluous, for we are only seeking to explain the realization of the phenomenon, which wouldthus be verified in one alone. If each part hear the sound, not entire, but only a portion of it, we shall have a divided sound; and what is the division of a sound?
But even such an imaginary division does not serve to explain the phenomenon; for the part of the sound perceived by A will not be perceived by B; never, therefore, will there result a complete sensation.
Shall we suppose A and B to be in relation, and to mutually communicate their corresponding parts? But then A perceives all its own part and also what B communicates to it: of what use, then, is B, if A perceives the whole? Why not place the whole primitive sensation in A? We here see that such a communication is an absurd hypothesis, since it would make a successive and mutual communication of the parts, and a perception by each of its own part, and also of that transmitted to it by the others, indispensable to the formation of an entire sensation. Thus we should have not one sensation only, but as many as there are parts; not one sensitive being only, but as many such beings as there are parts.
This hypothesis of communication of the parts paves the way for our system, since it recognizes the necessity of unity to constitute sensation. Why do the parts mutually communicate what they have respectively perceived? Because an entire sensation could not otherwise be formed, and so each part must receive what it has not of itself. The object of this is, that each one may perceive the whole; the sensation, therefore, must be wholly in only one subject; therefore, at the very time that unity is denied, it is acknowledged to be necessary.
14. These parts, A and B, either are simple or they are not; if they are simple, why persist in advocating materialism, when we must finally return to simple beings? It is a manifest contradiction to say that sensation is an effect oforganization, and yet place it in a simple being, for the simple cannot be organized; there is no organization where there are no parts organized. If we admit the simple being, and place the sensation in it, the organization will then be, if you choose, a medium, a conduit, an indispensable condition to the realization of the phenomenon; then not it, but the simple being will be the subject. If these parts are not simple, they are composed of others; and of these we may argue the same as of the former; for we must come to simple beings, or else proceed to infinity. If we admit such a process, the sensible being will not be one, but infinite; the difficulties encountered with only two parts, A and B, will be multiplied even to infinity, and so the sensible being will be not one but infinite, and every sensation infinite.
15. Here we find a very serious difficulty. If matter be incapable of perceiving, the soul of brutes is not material; if immaterial, it is a spirit, which cannot be admitted.
Let us determine well the meaning of the words, and this difficulty will vanish. An immaterial being is not the same as a spirit; every spirit is immaterial, but not every thing immaterial is a spirit.Immaterialdenotes negation of matter; spirit implies more than this; for we understand by it a simple being endowed with understanding and free-will. The soul of brutes is then immaterial, but not a spirit.
Some one may say, that what is not body is spirit, that between these two classes of beings there is no medium. But why? Whence such certainty? If it be said that there is no medium between the material and the immaterial, this is true; for there is, in truth, no medium between yes and no; every thing either is or is not; but there enters into the idea of spirit much more than the simple negationof matter; there is the idea of an active, intelligent, and free principle.
16. It may then be asked: wherein consists the nature of the soul of brutes? And we ask, wherein consists the nature of the greater part of the things which we perceive? Do we know this nature in itself or in its acts? Do we see our own soul intuitively? Or do we, perchance, know it by the acts of which we are conscious? If so, we know in like manner the sensitive soul by its acts, that is, by perception of the senses; we know that it is not matter, for matter is incapable of sensation; and the reasons which show us that our soul is a simple being, an active principle endowed with understanding and free-will enable us to say that the soul of brutes is a simple being endowed with the faculty of feeling, and with instincts and appetites of the sensible order.
We know not what this active principle in itself considered is, but its acts show it to be a force superior to bodies, one of the many activities which are the life of nature. We encounter this living force in a portion of matter admirably organized; the end of this organization is the harmonious exercise of the faculties of that living being which we call animal. Not to know what this force in itself is, does not prevent us from affirming its existence, for phenomena reveal it to us in an indisputable manner.
17. What, then, will be the fate of these souls, or living forces, if the organization which gives them life be destroyed? Will they be reduced to non-existence, since, not being composed of parts, they cannot be decomposed? Will they continue to exist until their turn shall come to preside over a new organization? It will be well to separate these various questions, and examine them apart.
If the soul of brutes be not composed of parts, it cannot perish by disorganization; what has no organizable partsis not organized, and what is not organized cannot be disorganized. Hence we infer that the soul of brutes cannot perish by corruption, properly so called; for no being not composed of matter can. We see not what difficulty can arise from this view; but the question is only resolved in its negative part, for thus far we know only that the soul of brutes cannot die, or be corrupted by decomposition; we must know what is done with it. Is it annihilated? Does it continue to exist? And if so, in what way? These are different questions.
First of all we must observe, that we have here only conjectures, and these rather as to the possibility than as to the reality. Philosophy may indeed enable us to see what may be, but not what is, for we can know the reality only by experience, which in the present case we cannot have. When sound philosophy, examining this point, is asked what is, its best reply is, that it knows not; if it is asked what may be, it enters into an argumentation founded on general principles, and more especially upon analogy.
18. It is usually said that nothing is annihilated; but this needs some explanation. What is the meaning ofannihilation? To cease to be, so that nothing, which before was, remains. If a body be disorganized, it ceases to be as an organized body; but the matter remains, and there is no annihilation. Is it true that nothing is annihilated? Some say we must distinguish between substances and accidents; for, as these latter are a kind of incomplete beings, there is no reason why they should not cease to exist, and nothing of them remain; but in this disappearance there is no annihilation, strictly so called; thus we see things continually transformed, and undergoing a succession of accidents which cease to exist whenever the thing ceases to be modified by them. As to substances, there would indeedbe true annihilation should they cease to exist, but this they do not, because no substance is annihilated. Thus some think; we know not how true this system may be, for we know not upon what solid foundation it rests. If a substance be destined to an end, why may it not be annihilated when this end no longer exists? A created being incessantly needs the conservatory action of the Creator, for which reason conservation is said to be a continued creation; when, then, the end to which the created substance was destined ceases, why may it not be annihilated? We see nothing in its being annihilated repugnant to the wisdom or goodness of God. The artificer abandons a tool no longer serviceable; this, in God, would be equivalent to the withdrawal of his conservatory act, and in the creature, to the reduction to non-existence. If it be not repugnant to the wisdom and goodness of God for an organized being to be disorganized, or cease to exist as an organized being, why may he not allow a substance which has accomplished the object for which it was created to cease to exist? From this we infer that it would not be against sound philosophy to maintain that the souls of brutes are reduced to non-existence.
19. But supposing there is no question of annihilation, is there any reason against their continuing to exist? If there be, we know not what it is.
We know not of what use they would be; but we may conjecture that absorbed anew into the bosom of nature they would not be useless. Neither do we know the use of many other beings, and yet we cannot therefore deny their existence, or doubt their utility. Who says that the vital principle residing in brutes can have no object if the organization which it animates be destroyed? Does the destruction of a plant involve, perchance, the extinction of all the vital principles residing in it? Do these principles, bynot operating upon the organized being just destroyed, therefore cease to be of any use in the wonderful laboratory of nature? Who will say that a vital principle cannot be useful if it does not act upon an object within our observation? Who will assert that vital principles do not in the recesses of nature act in many and different ways, and that the effects of their activity are not presented very differently according to circumstances, yet always in conformity to laws established by infinite wisdom? Do not the magnificent profusion of radical materials, the gems without number which we everywhere discover, the immense amount of matter susceptible of transformation and assimilation by the living being, the mysteries of generation in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, all indicate to us that there are scattered over the universe an infinite number of vital principles, which exercise their activity in very different ways, and over a scale of astonishing extent? Who shall assure us that the same vital principle may not present very diverse phenomena, according to the conditions which determine its action? Does not the same principle reside in the acorn, as in the gnarled old oak that for ages has defied the fury of the tempest? Did experience not show it to be so, who would ever have suspected the vital principle of a shapeless and filthy caterpillar to be the same as that of a beautiful butterfly? It is not then contrary either to reason or to experience to suppose the soul of brutes, the vital principle residing in them, to continue after the organization of the body is destroyed, and, absorbed anew in the treasures of nature, to be there preserved, not as a useless thing, but in the exercise of its faculties in different ways, according to the conditions to which it is subjected.(29)