A Cynic Looks at Life

The desire for life everlasting has commonly been affirmed to be universal—­at least that is the view taken by those unacquainted with Oriental faiths and with Oriental character.  Those of us whose knowledge is a trifle wider are not prepared to say that the desire is universal nor even general.

If the devout Buddhist, for example, wishes to “live always,” he has not succeeded in very clearly formulating the desire.  The sort of thing that he is pleased to hope for is not what we should call life, and not what many of us would care for.

When a man says that everybody has “a horror of annihilation,” we may be very sure that he has not many opportunities for observation, or that he has not availed himself of all that he has.  Most persons go to sleep rather gladly, yet sleep is virtual annihilation while it lasts; and if it should last forever the sleeper would be no worse off after a million years of it than after an hour of it.  There are minds sufficiently logical to think of it that way, and to them annihilation is not a disagreeable thing to contemplate and expect.

In this matter of immortality, people’s beliefs appear to go along with their wishes.  The man who is content with annihilation thinks he will get it; those that want immortality are pretty sure they are immortal; and that is a very comfortable allotment of faiths.  The few of us that are left unprovided for are those who do not bother themselves much about the matter, one way or another.

The question of human immortality is the most momentous that the mind is capable of conceiving.  If it is a fact that the dead live all other facts are in comparison trivial and without interest.  The prospect of obtaining certain knowledge with regard to this stupendous matter is not encouraging.  In all countries but those in barbarism the powers of the profoundest and most penetrating intelligences have been ceaselessly addressed to the task of glimpsing a life beyond this life; yet today no one can truly say that he knows.  It is as much a matter of faith as ever it was.

Our modern Christian nations profess a passionate hope and belief in another world, yet the most popular writer and speaker of his time, the man whose lectures drew the largest audiences, the work of whose pen brought him the highest rewards, was he who most strenuously strove to destroy the ground of that hope and unsettle the foundations of that belief.

The famous and popular Frenchman, Professor of Spectacular Astronomy, Camille Flammarion, affirms immortality because he has talked with departed souls who said that it was true.  Yes, monsieur, but surely you know the rule about hearsay evidence.  We Anglo-Saxons are very particular about that.

M. Flammarion says: 

“I don’t repudiate the presumptive arguments of schoolmen.  I merely supplement them with something positive.  For instance, if you assumed the existence of God this argument of the scholastics is a good one.  God has implanted in all men the desire of perfect happiness.  This desire cannot be satisfied in our lives here.  If there were not another life wherein to satisfy it then God would be a declever. Voila tout.”

There is more:  the desire of perfect happiness does not imply immortality, even if there is a God, for

(1) God may not have implanted it, but merely suffers it to exist, as he suffers sin to exist, the desire of wealth, the desire to live longer than we do in this world.  It is not held that God implanted all the desires of the human heart.  Then why hold that he implanted that of perfect happiness?

(2) Even if he did—­even, if a divinely implanted desire entail its own gratification—­even if it cannot be gratified in this life—­that does not imply immortality.  It implies only another life long enough for its gratification just once.  An eternity of gratification is not a logical inference from it.

(3) Perhaps God is “a deceiver” who knows that he is not?  Assumption of the existence of a God is one thing; assumption of the existence of a God who is honorable and candid according to our conception of honor and candor is another.

(4) There may be an honorable and candid God.  He may have implanted in us the desire of perfect happiness.  It may be—­it is—­impossible to gratify that desire in this life.  Still, another life is not implied, for God may not have intended us to draw the inference that he is going to gratify it.  If omniscient and omnipotent, God must be held to have intended whatever occurs, but no such God is assumed in M. Flammarion’s illustration, and it may be that God’s knowledge and power are limited, or that one of them is limited.

M. Flammarion is a learned, if somewhat theatrical, astronomer.  He has a tremendous imagination, which naturally is more at home in the marvelous and catastrophic than in the orderly regions of familiar phenomena.  To him the heavens are an immense pyrotechnicon and he is the master of the show and sets off the fireworks.  But he knows nothing of logic, which is the science of straight thinking, and his views of things have therefore no value; they are nebulous.

Nothing is clearer than that our pre-existence is a dream, having absolutely no basis in anything that we know or can hope to know.  Of after-existence there is said to be evidence, or rather testimony, in assurances of those who are in present enjoyment of it—­if it is enjoyable.  Whether this testimony has actually been given—­and it is the only testimony worth a moment’s consideration—­is a disputed point.  Many persons living this life profess to have received it.  But nobody professes, or ever has professed, to have received a communication of any kind from one in actual experience of the fore-life.  “The souls as yet ungarmented,” if such there are, are dumb to question.  The Land beyond the Grave has been, if not observed, yet often and variously described:  if not explored and surveyed, yet carefully charted.  From among so many accounts of it that we have, he must be fastidious indeed who cannot be suited.  But of the Fatherland that spreads before the cradle—­the great Heretofore, wherein we all dwelt if we are to dwell in the Hereafter, we have no account.  Nobody professes knowledge of that.  No testimony reaches our ears of flesh concerning its topographical or other features; no one has been so enterprising as to wrest from its actual inhabitants any particulars of their character and appearance.  And among educated experts and professional proponents of worlds to be there is a general denial of its existence.

I am of their way of thinking about that.  The fact that we have no recollection of a former life is entirely conclusive of the matter.  To have lived an unrecollected life is impossible and unthinkable, for there would be nothing to connect the new life with the old—­no thread of continuity—­nothing that persisted from the one life to the other.  The later birth would be that of another person, an altogether different being, unrelated to the first—­a new John Smith succeeding to the late Tom Jones.

Let us not be misled here by a false analogy.  Today I may get a thwack o’ the mazzard which will give me an intervening season of unconsciousness between yesterday and to-morrow.  Thereafter I may live to a green old age with no recollection of anything that I knew, or did, or was before the accident; yet I shall be the same person, for between the old life and the new there will be a nexus, a thread of continuity, something spanning the gulf from the one state to the other, and the same in both—­namely, my body with its habits, capacities and powers.  That is I; that identifies me to others as my former self—­authenticates and credentials me as the person that incurred the cranial mischance, dislodging memory.

But when death occurs all is dislodged if memory is; for between two merely mental or spiritual existences memory is the only nexus conceivable; consciousness of identity is the only identity.  To live again without memory of having lived before is to live another.  Re-existence without recollection is absurd.  There is nothing to re-exist.