Humphry Clinker

by Tobias Smollett

  In Part II, Cleanthes proposes a version of the Design Argument. He says that the argument is a posteriori, that is, from matters of fact established by experience, and that it is the only argument needed to prove both ‘the existence of a deity and his similarity to human mind and intelligence’. An analogy can be seen between the structure of the world, and machines. The world resembles ‘one great machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines’. As in a machine, the parts are ‘adjusted to each other’ with astonishing accuracy. In the case of machines, we know that the adjustment of parts to each other, and the ‘adapting of means to ends’, are caused by ‘human design, thought, wisdom, and intelligence’. Since the ordered structure of a machine resembles the ordered structure of the world, and that of a machine is caused by intelligent design, we may infer ‘by all the rules of analogy’ that the cause of the ordered structure of the world is also intelligent design. As the structure of the world so much surpasses that of a machine, so, by analogy, the mind of the author of nature surpasses that of a man. He is proved to be ‘somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which he has executed’.

  In giving this argument, Cleanthes has claimed to be inferring a cause from an effect, and to be arguing analogically. But he has not, of course, given any detailed account of these principles of reasoning. By the device of having Philo suggest that Demea’s vehement objection to the argument arises in part from his failing to see its logical structure, Hume introduces some of his own theory of such reasoning through Philo’s ‘restatement’ of it. Philo paraphrases Hume to establish that ‘experience alone can point out to [anyone] the true cause of any phenomenon’. It follows that whether or not such phenomena as ‘order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final causes’ are caused by design is something which can be established only by experience. If we consider only what is a priori conceivable, then it could be that the material world has a cause of its order inherent within it. Subtly, Philo brings out that Cleanthes must be assuming that the ideas in God’s mind cause order in the world by themselves being ordered and structured, and similarly the ideas in the mind of a human being who makes a watch or a house ‘arrange themselves so as to form the plan’. So Cleanthes is committed to the possibility of some things being inherently ordered. A priori, it could be matter as much as mind which has a cause of order inherent in it. So Cleanthes is claiming that it is from experience that we know that matter is not, but mind is, inherently ordered. Philo implies that all of this is already tacitly contained in Cleanthes’ initial argument. By thus ‘restating’ it in terms of Hume’s philosophy, Philo in fact identifies some of the weak points in it. But Cleanthes is invited to confirm that Philo has ‘made a fair representation of it’, and does so.

  Throughout Part II Philo raises a series of difficulties with Cleanthes’ method of argument, some of which are explored further in other parts. He objects, for example, that the analogy between the world and a machine is not close enough to permit the inference to design in the case of the world to be anything more than a conjecture. He points out that we know that design is a cause of order only in human activities, and these are a tiny part of the universe. Can we make such a small part a rule for the whole? He suggests that since the universe taken as a whole is a special, unique case, we simply have no relevant experience at all from which we could infer its cause. For himself, he says, so far as reason goes, he is content to say that he does not know what is the cause of the ordered, structured and purposeful world.

  Hume’s introduction of his own epistemology into the Dialogues as a critical weapon can be seen also in the case of Demea. From Part II to Part VIII, Cleanthes’ design argument is thoroughly examined. As a result, it appears full of difficulties, and open to many doubts. Demea thinks such an argument, which Cleanthes asserted to be the only possible way to establish results in natural theology, is wholly inadequate as a basis for religious belief. In its place, he offers a ‘simple and sublime argument a priori’ which will be ‘infallible’. This is a version of what is known as the cosmological argument. Whatever exists must have a cause or reason for its existence. In considering the series of causes of things, we must either think of this as going on in infinite succession, or we must think that there is an ultimate cause whose existence is necessary. But there cannot be an infinite series of things each of which is caused to exist by its predecessor and causes its successor to exist. For, if we consider the infinite series as a whole, it too must have a cause for its existence. (There could have been nothing at all rather than the whole infinite series.) Ex hypothesi there is no external cause for the whole infinite series. Nothing which is a member of the series can cause the whole. Consequently, it has no cause for its existence, which contradicts the premiss that whatever exists has a cause for its existence. ‘We must, therefore, have recourse to a necessarily existent being who carries the reason of his existence in himself; and who cannot be supposed not to exist, without an express contradiction.’

  This time it is Cleanthes who refutes the argument, employing Hume’s principles. The essence of the refutation rests on the distinction between relations of ideas and matters of fact. Whether or not something exists is a matter of fact. Anything which is provable a priori is such that its negation is inconceivable. But whatever we think of as existing, we can equally think of as not existing. Therefore, there is nothing whose non-existence is inconceivable, and so nothing whose existence can be proved a priori. In fact, ‘the words… “necessary existence” have no meaning’. What Cleanthes says here is derived from Book I, Part III, Section VII of the Treatise. There Hume says:

  ‘Tis evident… that the idea of existence is nothing different from the idea of any object, and that when after the simple conception of any thing we wou’d conceive it as existent, we in reality make no addition to or alteration on our first idea. Thus when we affirm, that God is existent, we simply form the idea of such a being, as he is represented to us; nor is the existence, which we attribute to him, conceiv’d by a particular idea, which we join to the idea of his other qualities, and can again separate and distinguish from them.18

  When we form the idea that 16 is the square of 4, we have a complex idea which contains the component ideas of 16 and the square of 4. By reflecting on this complex idea, we see that the components must stand in the relation they do. But, if Hume is right about existence, when we think of something, and when we think of it as existing, there is no additional component idea of existence which is related to the idea of the thing. Consequently, it cannot be that by reflection we see that the idea of existence must be connected with the idea of the thing, because there is no separable idea of existence. Hence the words ‘necessary existence’ cannot stand for an idea. They have no meaning. Whether or not something exists is a matter of whether there is in reality anything corresponding to our idea; it is not a matter of what the content of our idea is.

  The design argument given by Cleanthes is supposed to establish the existence of God, and something of his nature – that he possesses great wisdom, for example. The a priori argument given by Demea is also intended to prove the existence of a deity. But at the beginning of the Dialogues it is said that the existence of God is not in question; what will be discussed is the divine attributes, the nature of God. However, that there is no dispute about the existence of God is asserted initially by Pamphilus. Although all three characters are prepared to say that there is a God, they are not agreed about either what this means or whether it can be established by reason. Given Hume’s view about existence, one could not believe that God exists without having an idea of God. So the distinction between questions about the existence and questions about the nature of God is shaky. Cleanthes holds that the design argument establishes similarity between God and human minds. This is attacked by both Philo and Demea. Demea’s objection is that God is transcendent; he is beyond our comprehension. God’s nature is a religi
ous mystery. But, he says, the method of reasoning employed by Cleanthes suggests that we can understand the nature of God as analogous to our own. From his first statement of this position, in Part II, Demea expresses his position in religious rather than philosophical language:

  Finite, weak, and blind creatures, we ought to humble ourselves in his august presence, and, conscious of our frailties, adore in silence his infinite perfections which eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.

  He goes on to quote from Malebranche’s De la recherche de la vérité (The Search after Truth, 1674–5), in order to suggest that there is here harmony between reason and faith. This allows Hume to introduce into the Dialogues the notion of anthropomorphism, that is, the attribution to God of human characteristics. Philo and Demea then can use this term to summarize their criticism of Cleanthes. Demea regards the anthropomorphic notion of God generated by the design argument as not a proper object of religious devotion. In Part III, Cleanthes tries to support his argument with thought experiments – the examples of ‘an articulate voice… heard in the clouds’, and of a library of books which are ‘natural volumes’, not produced by mankind, but reproducing themselves ‘in the same manner with animals and vegetables, by descent and propagation’. If there were such phenomena, he says, it would be absurd not to infer that they were the product of intelligence and design, for they would contain intelligible messages. He then draws an analogy with the actual structure of nature. (The idea of nature as a book, in which we can read the message of divine purpose, is an ancient one; it is found, for example, in the Natural Theology of Raymond Sebond, written around 1430.19) Demea objects that in reading a book we enter into the mind of the author, but we cannot enter into the mind of God. ‘His ways are not our ways.’ Besides, he says, the human mind, both in its sentiments and its ideas is wholly unlike the divine mind. Human sentiments, such as gratitude, love, pity, etc., ‘have a plain reference to the state and situation of man’. And human thought is ‘fluctuating, uncertain, fleeting, successive, and compounded’. But the God of faith cannot be thought to have sentiments or thoughts as we do.

  In the main, however, it is left to Philo to develop the criticism of anthropomorphism. In Part V, he emphasizes that, insofar as Cleanthes is arguing from analogy, his conclusion will be better supported the more similar the inferred cause (of the order in nature) is to the known cause (of the order in machines). Thus the logic of Cleanthes’ position pushes him into a more and more anthropomorphic conception of the mind of God. Cleanthes agrees with Philo that, for his argument, comparing divine and human intelligence, ‘the liker the better’.

  Philo exploits this in a series of arguments. He shows that the argument from analogy cannot establish any of God’s attributes to be infinite, for ‘the cause ought only to be proportioned to the effect’. Again, if we knew a priori that God is a perfect being, the imperfection in nature could be said to appear an objection only because of our limited understanding. (In Part X Demea expresses his faith that the wickedness and misery of mankind will at last be seen ‘in some future period of existence’ not to be inconsistent with divine power and benevolence. Cleanthes regards this as ‘building entirely in the air’.) But if we are arguing a posteriori, then ‘these difficulties become all real’. Furthermore, even if nature were perfect, the analogy with human design could suggest that the product results from trial and error: ‘Many worlds might have been botched and bungled, throughout an eternity, ere this system was struck out.’ Again, arguing from analogy cannot establish the unity of God. It would be even more analogous to human creation to suppose that so great a creation as the universe required the cooperation of a number of deities.

  While Philo and Demea seek to make evident the incompatibility of Cleanthes’ anthropomorphism with the religious idea of a single, transcendent, infinitely perfect God, Cleanthes attacks the idea that God’s nature is incomprehensible as ‘mysticism’. At the beginning of Part IV he asks how the thesis that the nature of God is incomprehensible differs from the view of ‘sceptics or atheists’ that the first cause is unknown. Similarly, in Part XI, he says that ‘if we abandon all human analogy… I am afraid we abandon all religion, and retain no conception of the great object of our adoration.’ Cleanthes is here as before depending on the empiricist account of the origin of ideas: that all our ideas must be derived from experience. Although Demea and Philo are initially made to appear in agreement, Demea is affronted by Philo’s radical scepticism. Philo is concerned above all to establish a negative conclusion, that argument from analogy cannot yield the traditional view. Their divergence, hinted early in the Dialogues, becomes most apparent in Parts X and XI, which deal with the problem of evil.

  Demea and Philo combine to paint a powerful picture of moral and natural evil. But Demea and not Philo thinks that in some way the imperfections of nature support religious belief. His attempt at arguing a priori having proved a failure, he now suggests:

  that each man feels, in a manner, the truth of religion within his own breast; and from a consciousness of his imbecility and misery, rather than from any reasoning, is led to seek protection from that being, on whom he and all nature is dependent.

  Philo gives to this a characteristically Humean twist. Nature appears unconcerned about the happiness of individuals, and to seek only the preservation of species. And while man can through society guard against many natural enemies, ‘does he not immediately raise up to himself imaginary enemies, the demons of his fancy, who haunt him with superstitious terrors, and blast every enjoyment of life?’ Demea’s view, that men look to religion for consolation in the vale of tears, and believe that evil and suffering are, from the point of view of eternity, reconcilable with divine power and benevolence, is attacked by both Philo and Cleanthes. Philo remarks that the religious imagination is moved as much by fear as by hope. Cleanthes objects that Demea’s position is entirely speculative.

  Philo’s principle target, however, is the possibility of deriving the moral attributes of God from the nature of the world. When Cleanthes presented the design argument, we were invited to ‘look round the world’, and to infer divine intelligence and design from its order and purpose. Here, where the attribute of divine benevolence is in question, Hume brilliantly balances Cleanthes’ speech with Philo’s:

  Look round this universe. What an immense profusion of beings, animated and organized, sensible and active! You admire this prodigious variety and fecundity. But inspect a little more narrowly these living existences, the only beings worth regarding. How hostile and destructive to each other! How insufficient all of them for their own happiness! How contemptible or odious to the spectator! The whole presents nothing but the idea of a blind nature, impregnated by a great vivifying principle, and pouring forth from her lap, without discernment or parental care, her maimed and abortive children.

  Philo claims that in arguing from nature to God, the mixture of good and evil to be found in nature prevents any inference to a wholly good, or wholly evil, cause of the universe. He allows that the idea of there being both a good and an evil principle has some probability, but rejects it on the ground of ‘the uniformity and steadiness of general laws’; and consequently, he says, we are left with the idea of ‘blind’ nature–the cause or causes of the universe have no moral attributes at all. Earlier, in Part II, Philo had accepted that the existence of God is ‘unquestionable and self-evident. Nothing exists without a cause; and the original cause of this universe (whatever it be) we call GOD; and piously ascribe to him every species of perfection.’ Now he makes clear that the ascription of moral perfection to God can only be a matter of faith. So far as reasoning from the nature of the world goes, the most probable view is that God (i.e. whatever is the cause of the universe) has no moral nature. This conclusion is as unacceptable to Demea as it is to Cleanthes, who points out in Part X that ‘there is an end at once of all religion. For to what purpose establish the natural attributes o
f the deity, while the moral are still doubtful and uncertain?’

  These are some of the themes of the Dialogues. But there are others, also important to the question of the possibility of natural theology. I have not attempted a detailed analysis; for this there are a number of helpful studies, mentioned later. In any case, a systematic exposition of arguments, let alone a critical assessment, would not be in harmony with Hume’s intention in writing in dialogue form. His general position about natural theology is sceptical, and his style is carefully adopted in order to achieve his sceptical aims. It is appropriate, therefore, to bear in mind some aspects of Hume’s attitude towards scepticism.

  Scepticism was a classical Greek philosophical method, taking various forms over a long period, from around 300 BC to about AD 220. At the end of this period, the aims and methods of the sceptics were summarized by Sextus Empiricus in Outlines of Pyrrhonism. This work appeared in translation towards the end of the sixteenth century, and from that time scepticism played a major role in the development of philosophy. Pyrrhonism, which takes its name from Pyrrho of Elis (c. 360—275 BC), was the most extreme form of scepticism; Hume sometimes calls it ‘total scepticism’. Another source of knowledge of classical scepticism was Cicero’s Academica, written in or after 45 BC. The Academy was the school of philosophy founded by Plato. Some considerable time after his death, scepticism was introduced and developed by successive heads of the school. Originally the scepticism of the Academy was total, but in time a more dogmatic position emerged, partly through the influence of the rival school of Stoicism. (Sceptics and Stoics are compared in Part I of the Dialogues.) One of those responsible for this was Philo, with whom Cicero studied scepticism when Philo was in Rome. Later, more full-blooded Pyrrhonism was revived, outside the Academy, and it is this later revival that is represented in the writings of Sextus Empiricus.