Category Archives: The Early Modern Period

WILLIAM BLACKSTONE
(1723-1780)

from Commentaries on the Laws of England


Sir William Blackstone was born in London to a wealthy family of the middle class and received a broad education in logic, mathematics, and the classics. A member and fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, he became a barrister in 1746 after studying at the Middle Temple. His practice went badly, and he subsequently devoted himself to teaching at Oxford in 1753, three years after receiving the Doctor in Civil Law degree. His lectures on English law were the first ever presented in a university setting. Blackstone later abandoned academic life in favor of a political one. From 1761 until 1770, he served in the House of Commons as a member of Parliament while continuing to practice law, and in 1763, was made solicitor general to the queen. In 1770, Blackstone became judge of the Court of Common Pleas, a position he held until his death.

While Blackstone’s work was criticized for frequently being inaccurate, uncritical, and simplistic, his historical importance resides in the ability he had to explain and describe to the layman, in simple and elegant terms, the complexities of English law. He was often criticized, especially by the reformist Jeremy Bentham [q.v.], for his view that dissent in law was a crime, since civil laws are valid due to their harmony with the laws of nature and God.

Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England (1765–1769) were the first attempt, since Henri de Bracton [q.v.] in the 13th century, to describe the doctrines of English law in a comprehensive and systematic manner. The enormously influential Commentaries, published in four volumes, became the basis of the university system of legal education in both England and the United States. In the section “Homicide,” Blackstone characterizes suicide as “among the highest crimes” and an act of cowardice, and outlines possible punishments of suicides by the law.

Sources

Sir William Blackstone, “Homicide,” Book IV, chapter XIV, section III, of Commentaries on the Laws of England, 4 volumes, 18th edition, ed. Archer Ryland. London: Sweet, Pheney, Maxwell, Stevens & Sons, 1829, pp. 188-190. Also from the Avalon Project at Yale Law School.

from COMMENTARIES ON THE LAWS OF ENGLAND

Homicide
Felonious homicide is … the killing of a human creature, of any age or sex, without justification or excuse. This may be done, either by killing one’s self, or another man.

Self-murder, the pretended heroism, but real cowardice, of the Stoic philosophers, who destroyed themselves to avoid those ills which they had not the fortitude to endure, though the attempting it seems to be countenanced by the civil law, yet was punished by the Athenian law with cutting off the hand, which committed the desperate deed. And also the law of England wisely and religiously considers, that no man hath a power to destroy life, but by commission from God, the author of it: and, as the suicide is guilty of a double offence; one spiritual, in invading the prerogative of the Almighty, and rushing into his immediate presence uncalled for; the other temporal, against the king, who hath an interest in the preservation of all his subjects; the law has therefore ranked this among the highest, crimes, making it a peculiar species of felony, a felony committed on oneself. a felo de se therefore is he that deliberately puts an end to his own existence, or commits any unlawful malicious act, the consequence of which is his own death: as if, attempting to kill another, he runs upon his antagonist’s sword; or, shooting at another, the gun bursts and kills himself. The party must be of years of discretion, and in his senses, else it is no crime. But this excuse ought not to be strained to that length, to which our coroners’ juries are apt to carry it, viz. that the very act of suicide is an evidence of insanity; as if every man who acts contrary to reason, had no reason at all: for the fame argument would prove every other criminal non compos, as well as the self-murderer. The law very rationally judges, that every melancholy or hypochondriac fit does not deprive a man of the capacity of discerning right from wrong; which is necessary, as was observed in a former chapter, to form a legal excuse. And therefore, if a real lunatic kills himself in a lucid interval, he is a felo de se as much as another man.

But now the question follows, what punishment can human laws inflict on one who has withdrawn himself from their reach? They can only act upon what he has left behind him, his reputation and fortune: on the former, by an ignominious burial in the highway, with a stake driven through his body; on the latter, by a forfeiture of all his goods and chattels to the king: hoping that his care for either his own reputation, or the welfare of his family, would be some motive to restrain him from so desperate and wicked an act. And it is observable, that this forfeiture has relation to the time of the act done in the felon’s lifetime, which was the cause of his death. As if husband and wife be possessed jointly of a term of years in land, and the husband drowns himself; the land shall be forfeited to the king, and the wife shall not have it by survivorship. For by the act of casting himself into the water he forfeits the term; which gives a title to the king, prior to the wife’s title by survivorship, which could not accrue till the instant of her husband’s death. And, though it must be owned that the letter of the law herein borders a little upon severity, yet it is some alleviation that the power of mitigation is left in the breast of the sovereign, who upon this (as on all other occasions) is reminded by the oath of his office to execute judgment in mercy.

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Filed under Blackstone, William, Europe, Selections, Stoicism, The Early Modern Period

JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(1712-1778)

from Julie, or the New Heloise


 

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the French philosopher, novelist, and political essayist, profoundly influenced the Enlightenment period during which he lived and the Romantic movement and French Revolution to come. He was born in Geneva in 1712; his mother died within days of his birth. He had almost no formal education. He was apprenticed unsuccessfully to both a notary public and an engraver, and committed a series of petty thefts and other breaches of discipline that earned him beatings but did not change his behavior; they served largely to reinforce his hatred of authority. Rousseau finally found a patron in the wealthy baroness Mme. de Warens, with whom he lived at Annecy and at Chambéry. In about 1743, he took as his mistress an illiterate inn servant, Thérèse le Vasseur, with whom he fathered five children, all placed in a foundling hospital. Rousseau wrote an opera and papers on musical notation, for which he received some recognition. He published two influential essays in response to a competition established by the Academy of Dijon, the Discourse on the Arts and Sciences (1750) and the Discourse upon the Origin and Foundations of Inequality (1755). Other important works by Rousseau include Julie, or the New Heloise (1761), from which the selection here is taken, A Treatise on the Social Contract (1762), Emile, or On Education (1762), banned in Geneva and Paris, and burned publicly when it was first published; and his remarkably intimate and ultimately influential Confessions, published posthumously.

Rousseau’s life and work were filled with controversy. Some of his works were banned in parts of Europe and burned in others; he was forced to flee arrest in Paris; and he experienced growing persecution during his travels in Europe. He eventually returned to Paris where he lived as a music copyist. Of a suspicious and paranoid temperament, he quarreled with his close friend David Hume [q.v.] and died at least partly insane in a cottage in Ermenonville in 1778.

Julie, or the New Heloise is an epistolary novel, one among the many works expressing Rousseau’s conviction that the Enlightenment’s confidence in rational, scientific progress was misguided and that human culture and law were artificial, man-made constructs that created inequality and took humankind away from its natural, happier state. In the novel, two characters debate the issues in suicide: a young man, potentially suicidal, defending a secular argument in favor of suicide much influenced by classical literature and Stoicism, and the more senior Lord Edward Bomston, who uses religious and friendship-based covenantal considerations to argue against it. “Listen to me, mad youth,” Bomston says in his reply to the young man’s letter, in a much-repeated bit of advice, “let me teach you to love life. Every time you are tempted to exit it, say to yourself: ‘Let me do one more good deed before I die’ ”—advice that Bomston believes will deter any morally decent human being.

SOURCE
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Julie, or the New Heloise: Letters of Two Lovers Who Live in a Small Town at the Foot of the Alps, in The Collected Writings of Rousseau, vol. 6, trs. Philip Steward and Jean Vaché. Hanover and London: Dartmouth College; University Press of New England, 1997, letters 21 and 22, pp. 310-323.

 

from JULIE, OR THE NEW HELOISE

To Milord Edward

Yes, Milord, it is true; my soul is oppressed with the weight of life.  For a long time it has been a burden to me; I have lost everything that could have endeared it to me, only the sorrows remain to me.  But they say I have no right to dispose of it without an order from the one who gave it me.  I also know that it belongs to you in more than one way.  Your ministrations have saved it twice and your kindnesses constantly preserve it.  I will never dispose of it without being sure of my right to do so without crime, nor so long as the slightest hope remains of employing it for you.

You used to say I was necessary to you; why did you deceive me?  Since we have been in London, far from thinking of ways to make me useful to you, all you do is look after me.  What superfluous precautions you take!  Milord, as you know, I hate crime even more than life; I worship the eternal Being; I owe you everything, I love you, I hold to you alone on earth; friendship, duty can chain a miserable man to earth: pretexts and sophisms will never do so.  Enlighten my reason, speak to my heart; I am ready to hear you: but remember that despair cannot easily be fooled.

You want reasoning: well then let us reason.  You want the deliberation scaled to the importance of the question under discussion, I agree to that.  Let us seek truth peaceably, tranquilly.  Let us discuss the general proposition as if it concerned someone else.  Robeck wrote an apology for willful death before he killed himself.  I do not mean to write a book as he did and I do not find his very satisfactory, but I hope to imitate his detachment in this discussion.

I have long meditated on this grave subject.  That you must know, for you are aware of what has happened and I am still alive.  The more I reflect on it, the more I find that the question comes down to this fundamental proposition: to seek what is good and flee what is ill for oneself insofar as it offends no one else is the right of nature.  When our life is an ill for us and a good for no one it is therefore permissible to deliver oneself of it.  If there is one evident and certain maxim in the world, I think that is it, and if someone managed to overturn it, there is no human deed that could not be made into a crime.

What do our Sophists say about this?  First of all they regard life as something that is not ours, because it has been given to us; but it is precisely because it has been given to us that it is ours.  Did God not give them two arms?  Yet when they fear gangrene they have one cut off, and both, if need be.  Precisely the same holds for anyone who believes in the immortality of the soul; for if I sacrifice my body to preserve something more precious which is my body, I sacrifice my body to preserve something more precious which is my well-being.  Although all the gifts that Heaven has given us are naturally good things for us, they are only too subject to changing in nature, and to them it added reason to teach us to discern among them.  If this rule did not entitle us to choose some and reject others, what use would it be among men?

They turn this insubstantial objection over in a thousand ways.  They consider man living on earth as a soldier on sentry duty.  God, they say, has placed you in this world, why do you quit it without his leave?  But how about you, whom he has placed in your own city, why so you quit it without his leave?  Is leave not implicit in ill-being?  Wherever he places me, whether in the body, or on the earth, it is to remain there so long as I am well off, and to quit it as soon as I am badly off.  Such is the voice of nature and of God.  We are to await the order, I grant; but when I die naturally God does not order me to give up this life, he takes it from me: it is by making life unbearable to me that he orders me to give it up.  In the first case, I hold out with all my strength, in the second I have the merit of obeying.

Can you imagine how there can be people unjust enough to stigmatize willful death as rebellion against providence, as if one meant to escape its laws?  It is not to escape them that one ceases to live, but to carry them out.  What!  Does God have power only over my body?  Is there some place in the universe where some extant being is not under his hand, and will he act less immediately on me, when my purified substance is more of a piece, and more like his own?  No, his justice and goodness are my hope, and if I believed the death could remove me from his power, I would no longer wish to die.

That is one of the Phaedo’s Sophisms, full as it otherwise is of sublime truths.  If your slave killed himself, says Socrates to Cebes, would you not punish him, if you could, for having unjustly deprived you of your property?  Good Socrates, what are you telling us?  Does one no longer belong to God after death?  That is not it at all, but you should have said: if you burden your slave with a garment that impedes him in the service he owes you, will you punish him for having cast off the garment the better to carry out his service?  The great error is to attribute too much importance to life; as if our being depended on it, and after death we were nothing at all.  Our life is nothing in God’s eyes; it is nothing in the eyes of reason, it should be nothing in ours, and when we leave our body, we merely lay aside an inconvenient garment.  Is that worth such ado?  Milord, these declaimers are not in good faith.  Absurd and cruel in their reasonings, they make the alleged crime worse as if one were ending one’s existence, and punish it, as if one still existed.

As for the Phaedo, which furnished them the only imposing argument they ever invoked, this question there is treated only very lightly and as it were in passing.  Socrates, condemned by an unjust sentence to lose his life within a few hours, had no need to examine very closely whether he had the right to dispose of it.  Even if we grant that he actually spoke the words Plato puts in his mouth, believe me, Milord, he would have pondered them more carefully at the point of putting them into practice; and the proof that no good objection to the right to dispose of one’s own life can be drawn from that immortal work is that Cato read it all the way through twice, the very night he departed this world.

These same Sophists ask whether life can ever be an evil?  Considering the throng of errors, torments, and vices with which it is filled, one would be much more inclined to ask whether it was ever good?  Crime continually besieges the most virtuous man, every moment of his life, he is on the verge of becoming the wicked man’s prey or becoming wicked himself.  To struggle and suffer, such is his fate in this world: to do evil and suffer, is that of the dishonest man.  In everything else they differ, they have nothing in common but life’s miseries.  If you required authorities and facts, I could cite you oracles, wise men’s replies, acts of virtue rewarded by death.  Let us leave all that aside, Milord; it is to you I am speaking, and I ask you, what is the principle occupation of the wise man here below, if not to distill himself, so to speak, into the recesses of his soul, and attempt to be dead while he lives?  The only means reason has found to spare us humanity’s woes, is it not to detach us from worldly objects and all that is mortal in us, to meditate within ourselves, raise ourselves to sublime contemplations; and if our passions and errors cause our misfortunes, with what zeal ought we not yearn for a condition that delivers us from both?  What do these sensual men do by so indiscreetly multiplying their sufferings by their voluptuous delights?  They obliterate so to speak their existence by dint of expanding it on earth; they compound the weight of their chains by the number of their attachments; they have no ecstasies but that lay in store for them a thousand bitter deprivations: the more they feel, the more they suffer: the more they plunge into life, the more unhappy they are.

But I am ready to concede that in general, it is if one so wishes a good thing for man to crawl sadly over the surface of the earth: I do not pretend that all of humankind should immolate itself by common consent, nor turn the earth into a vast graveyard.  There are, there are indeed some wretched creatures too privileged to follow the common road, and for whom despair and bitter sufferings are nature’s passport.  In their case it would be as foolish to believe their life a good as it was for the Sophist Possidonius, tormented with gout, to deny it was an evil.  As long as it is good for us to live we desire it strongly, and nothing but the experience of extreme suffering can overcome in us this desire: for we have all received from nature an enormous horror of death, and this horror conceals from our eyes the miseries of human condition.  One long endures a painful and doleful life before resigning oneself to relinquishing it; but once the weariness of living overcomes the horror of dying, then life is obviously a great evil, and one cannot too soon be freed from it.  Thus, although one cannot identify the precise point where it ceases being a good, at least one knows with certainty that it is an evil long before it so appears to us, and in every rational man the right to relinquish it comes well ahead of the temptation to do so.

This is not all: after denying that life can be an evil, in order to deprive us of our right to do away with it, they then say it is an evil, in order to reproach us for our inability to endure it.  According to them it is craven to elude its suffering and pains, and none but cowards precipitate their own death.  O Rome, conqueror of the world, what a host of cowards gave thee empire over it!  If Arria, Empona, Lucretia are among them, that is because they were women.  But Brutus, but Cassius, and thou who shared with the Gods the respect of a dumbfounded world, great and divine Cato, thou whose august and sacred image used to inspire the Romans with a holy zeal and make Tyrants quake, thy proud admirers never thought that one day in the dusty corner of a college, vile Rhetors would prove thou wert a mere coward, for having denied to triumphant crime the tribute of virtue in fetters.  Power and greatness of modern writers, how sublime you are; and how intrepid they are with pen in hand!  But tell me, brave and valiant hero who so courageously flee the battlefield so you can endure life’s burden longer: when a burning ember happens to fall on this eloquent hand, why do you retract it so suddenly?  What!  You have the cravenness not to dare bearing the heat of the fire!  Nothing, say you, obliges me to bear the ember; and I, who obliges me to bear life?  Did it cost providence more effort to engender a man than a straw, and are not the two equally its handiwork?

There is courage, no doubt, in suffering with constancy ills one cannot avoid; but only a fool would willingly suffer those he can elude without doing wrong, and it is often a very great wrong to endure a wrong needlessly.  He who is unable to deliver himself from a painful life through a prompt death is like the man who prefers to let a wound fester rather than entrust it to the salutary knife of a surgeon.  Come, worthy Parisot, cut off this leg of mine which is going to kill me.  I will watch you do it without raising an eyebrow, and let myself be called a coward by the braggart who watches his own leg rot for fear of facing the same operation.

I admit there are duties towards others, which do not allow every man to dispose of himself, but on the other hand how many are there that command it?  Let a Magistrate on whom the fatherland’s welfare depends, let a paterfamilias who owes subsistence to his children, let an insolvent debtor who would ruin his creditors, devote themselves to their duty come what may; let a thousand other civil and domestic ties force an honorable unfortunate to bear the misfortune of living, so as to avoid the greater misfortune of being unjust, can one, for that, in completely different circumstances, preserve at the expense of a multitude of wretches a life that is useful solely to the man who dares not die?  Kill me, my child, says the decrepit savage to his son who carries him bending under the weight; the enemy is upon us; go fight with your brothers, go save your children, and do not expose your father to falling alive into the hands of those whose relatives he ate.  Even if hunger, pains, misery, these domestic enemies worse than savages, allowed a wretched cripple to consume in his bed the bread of a family that can scarcely earn enough for itself; why should the man who has no ties, the man Heaven has reduced to living alone on earth, the man whose wretched existence can yield nothing good, not have at least the right to quit an abode where his moans are bothersome and his sufferings fruitless?

Weight these considerations, Milord; combine all these reasons and you will find that they come down to the simplest of natural rights which a reasonable man never questioned.  Indeed, why should it be permissible to be cured of the gout and not of life? Are not the one and the other sent to us by the same hand?  If dying is painful, what does that matter?  Is it pleasant to take drugs?  How many people prefer death to medicine?  Proof that nature abhors both.  Let them show me why it is more permissible to deliver oneself from a passing illness by using remedies, than from an incurable illness by taking one’s life, or why one is less blameworthy for taking quinine for fever than opium for stones.  If we consider the objective, each serves to deliver us from ill-being; if we consider the means, each is equally natural; if we consider their abhorrence, it is equal on both sides; if we consider the master’s will, what illness could one combat that he has not sent upon us?  What suffering could one elude that comes not from his hand?  What is the point where his power ends, and where one can legitimately resist?  Is it then not permissible for us to change the state of anything, because all that is, is as he has willed it?  Must one do nothing in this world for fear of violating his laws, and whatever we do can we ever violate them?  No Milord, man’s vocation is greater and nobler.  God has not breathed life into him in order for him to remain immobile in a perpetual quietism.  But he has given him freedom to do good, conscience to will it, and reason to choose it.  He has constituted him sole judge of his own acts.  He has written in his heart: do what is good for you and harmful to no one.  If I feel it is right for me to die, I resist his command by clinging obstinately to life; for by making my death desirable, he instructs me to seek it.

Bomston, I appeal to your wisdom and your candor; what more certain maxims can reason deduce from Religion concerning willful death?  If the Christians have established others contrary to them, they have drawn them neither from the principles of their Religion, nor from its unique rule, which is Scripture, but solely from pagan philosophers.  Lactantius and Augustine, who first put forward this new doctrine on which neither Jesus Christ nor the Apostles had said a single word, founded themselves solely on the reasoning is the Phaedo which I have already contested; and so it is that the faithful who believe they are following in this the authority of the Gospel, are merely following Plato’s.  Indeed, where will one find in the entire Bible a law against suicide, or even a simple disapproval; and is it not quite strange that in the examples of people who have taken their own lives, not a word of blame is found against any of these examples?  Furthermore, Samson’s is sanctioned by a wonder that avenges him of his enemies.  Would this miracle have been performed to justify a crime; and would this man who lost his strength for having allowed a woman to seduce him have recovered it to commit an authentic crime, as if God himself had wished to deceive mankind?

Thou shalt not kill, says the Decalogue. What follows from this? If this commandment is to be taken literally, one must kill neither evildoers nor enemies; and Moses who brought about the death of so many people had a very poor understanding of his own precept. If there are a few exceptions, the first of them is certainly in favor of willful death, because it is free of violence and injustice, the only two criteria that can make homicide criminal, and because nature has, besides, created sufficient obstacle to it.

But, they further say, suffer patiently the ills that God sends your way; count your pains as a merit.  How poorly it is to grasp the spirit of Christianity, to apply its maxims thus!  Man is subject to a thousand ills, his life is a web of miseries, and he seems born only to suffering.  Of these ills, reason counter to reason, approves.  But how small is their sum compared to those he is forced to suffer despite himself!  These are the ones a merciful God allows men to count for merit; he accepts as homage freely given the mandatory tribute he imposes on us, and imputes to the benefit of the next life our resignation in this one.  Man’s true penitence is imposed on him by nature; if he patiently endures everything he is constrained to endure, he has done in this respect everything that God requires of him, and if anyone is arrogant enough to pretend he can go beyond that, he is a madman who ought to be locked up, or an imposter who ought to be punished.  Let us then flee without qualm all the ills we can flee, there will always be only too many left for us to suffer.  Let us deliver ourselves without remorse from life itself, once it has become an ill for us; since it is within our power to do so, and since in doing so we offend neither God nor men.  If something must be sacrificed to the Supreme Being, is dying nothing?  Let us offer to God the death he imposes on us through the voice of reason, and commit peacefully to his bosom our soul which he reclaims from us.

Such are the general precepts that good sense dictates to all men and Religion sanctions.*  Let us return to us.  You have been willing to open your heart to me; I know your sufferings; you suffer no less than I; your ills like mine are without remedy, and all the more since the laws of honor are more immutable than those of fortune.  You endure them, I concede, steadfastly.  Virtue sustains you; one step farther; it releases you.  You urge me to suffer: Milord, I dare urge you to put an end to your sufferings, and I let you be the judge which of us cherishes the other more.

Why postpone taking a step that must in any case be taken?  Shall we wait until old age and years attach us basely to life after taking away its charms, and until we trail about with effort, ignominy, and pain a body crippled and bent over?  We are at the age when the soul’s vigor easily releases itself from its fetters, and when man still knows how to die; later on he wailingly lets life be wrested from him.  Let us take advantage of a time when the weariness of life makes death desirable; let us beware lest it come with its horrors at the moment when we no longer want it.  I remember, there was a moment when I asked Heaven for but an hour, and would have died of despair had I not obtained it.  Ah how painful it is to break the ties that bind our hearts to earth, and how it is to give it up as soon as they are broken!  I can feel, Milford, that we are both worthy of a dwelling more pure; virtue points us the way, and fate beckons us to seek it.  May the friendship that joins us unite us once more in our last hour. O what ecstasy for two true friends to end their days willingly in each other’s arms, to mingle their last sighs, breathe forth at once the two halves of their soul!  What pain, what regret can poison their last instants? What do they leave behind in departing the world?  They go off together; they leave nothing behind.

Reply 

Young man, you are being carried away by a blind transport; restrain yourself; do not give counsel while you are seeking it.  I have known other ills than yours.  My soul is staunch; I am an Englishman, I know how to die, for I know how to live, to suffer like a man.  I have seen death at close range, and consider it with too much detachment to go seeking it out.  Let us talk about you.

It is true, you were necessary to me; my soul needed yours; your assistance could prove useful to me; your reason could possibly enlighten me in the most importance concern of my life; if I make no use of it, whose fault do you think that is?  Where is it?  What has become of it?  What can you do?  What good are you in your present condition? What services can I expect from you?  Unreasonable sorrows render you dumb and merciless.  You are not a man; you are nothing; and if I did not take into account what you are capable of being, such as you are I see nothing in this world beneath you.

The only proof I need is your Letter itself.  Formerly I found sense, truth in you.  Your sentiments were straightforward, your reasoning was clear, and I loved you not only by affinity but by choice as another means for me to cultivate wisdom.  What have I now found in the reasoning’s of this Letter you seem so smug about?  A miserable and perpetual sophism which by the distractions of you reason indicates those of your heart, and which I would not even bother pointing out had I not taken pity on your ranting.

To overthrow all that in a word, I need ask you only one thing.  You who believe in God’s existence, the soul’s immortality, and man’s freedom, do not think, no doubt, that an intelligent being receives a body and is placed on earth at random, merely to live, suffer, and die?  There is indeed, perhaps, in human life a goal, an end, a moral objective? I beg you to answer me clearly on this point; after which we will take up your letter step by step, and you will blush for having written it.

But let us leave aside general maxims, of which often much ado is made without any of them ever being followed; for there is always in the application some particular circumstances that so changes the state of things that everyone believes himself dispensed from obeying the rule he prescribes to others, and we know full well that any man who posits general maxims expect them to oblige everyone, except himself.  Once more let us talk about you.

So you are entitled, in your opinion, to cease living?  The proof is a strange one; it is that you want to die.  That is to be sure a convenient argument for scoundrels:  They must be most obliged to you for the weapons you furnish them; there will no longer be any crimes they will not justify by the temptation to commit them, and once the violence of passion has won out over the horror of crime, in the desire of doing evil they will also see the right to do so.

So you are entitled to cease to live?  What I would like to know is whether you have even begun?  What!  Were you placed on earth to do nothing here?  Did Heaven not assign to you along with life a task to fill it?  If you have done your day’s work before evening, rest for what remains of the day, that you can do; but let us have a look at how much you have accomplished.  What answer do you have ready for the Supreme Judge who will ask for an account of your time?  Speak up, what will you tell him?  I have seduced an honest maiden.  I abandon a friend amidst his troubles.  Poor fool!  Find me that righteous man who boasts he has lived enough; let me learn from him how one must have borne life so as to have the right to relinquished it.

You enumerate humanity’s ills.  You do not blush at exhausting commonplaces rehashed a hundred times, and you say: life is an evil. But, look about, search in the order of things, whether you can find in it any good things that are not admixed with evil.  Is this then to say that there is no good in creation, and you confuse what is evil by nature with what suffers evil only by accident?  As you yourself have said, man’s passive life is nothing, and concerns only a body from which he will soon be delivered; but his active and moral life, which must influence his whole being, consists in the exercise of his will.  Life is an evil for the wicked man who prospers, and a good for the honorable man who is unfortunate: for it is not a passing modification, but its relationship to its objective that makes it good or bad.  What are after all these painful sorrows that force you to relinquish it?  Do you think that I have not detected beneath your feigned impartiality in counting up the evils of this life the shame of speaking of your own?  Heed my advice, do not abandon all your virtues at once.  Keep at least your former frankness, and tell your friend openly:  I have lost the hope of corrupting an honest woman, so here I am forced to be a man of honor; I would rather die.

You tire of living, and you say: life is an evil.  Sooner or later you will be consoled, and you will say: life is good.  You will be closer to the truth without reasoning any better: for nothing will have changed but you.  That being so, change right away, and since all the evil is in the disposition of your soul, amend you disorderly affections, and do not burn your house down to avoid the bother of putting it in order.

I suffer, you tell me?  Is it in my power not to suffer?  First, this changes the status of the question; for the problem in not whether you suffer, but whether it is an ill for you to live.  Let us go on.  You suffer, you must seek to put an end to your suffering.  Let us examine whether that calls for dying.

Consider a moment the natural progress of the soul’s ills directly opposite the progress of the body’s, as the two substances are opposite nature.  The latter become chronic, worsen with age, and finally destroy this mortal machine.  The former, on the contrary, external and temporary alterations of an immortal and simple being, fade away little by little and leave it in its original form which nothing could ever change.  Sorrow, woe, regrets, despair are short-lived pains that never take root in the soul, and experience ever belies that sentiment of bitterness that makes us regard our sufferings as eternal.  I will say more; I cannot believe that the vices that corrupt us are more ingrained in us than our troubles; not only do I think they disappear with the body that occasions them; but I do not doubt that a longer life could allow men to be reformed, and that several centuries of youth would teach us that there is nothing better than virtue.

However that may be, since most of our physical ills only increase endlessly, excruciating bodily pain, when it is incurable, may justify a man’s disposing of himself: for all his faculties being estranged by pain, and the evil being without remedy, he no longer has use of either his will or his reason; he ceases to be a man before he dies, and by taking his own life merely completes the separation from a body that bogs him down and where already his soul no longer is.

But such is not the case with pains of the soul, which, however acute, always bring the remedy with them.  Indeed, what makes any ill intolerable?  It is its duration.  The operations of surgery are commonly much more cruel than the sufferings they heal; but the ill’s pain is permanent, the operation’s temporary, and we prefer the latter.  What need is there then for an operation for pains that are assuaged by their own duration, which alone would make them unbearable?  Is it reasonable to apply such violent remedies to ills that fade away by themselves?  To anyone who prizes constancy and avoids valuing years more than they are worth, which of two means of delivering himself from the same sufferings is to be preferred, death or time?  Wait and you will be healed.  What more do you ask?

Ah! It only compounds my suffering to think it will end! The vain sophism of grief!  The clever phrase devoid of reason, of accuracy, and perhaps of good faith.  What an absurd excuse for despair is the hope of ending one’s misery!*  Even supposing this bizarre sentiment, who would not rather sharpen the present pain for a moment with the assurance of seeing it end, as one scrapes a wound to make it scab?  And if the pain had a charm that made us love suffering, would not depriving ourselves of it by taking our life be to accomplish at that very instant everything we fear from the future?

Think about that, young man; what are ten, twenty, thirty years to an immortal being?  Pain and pleasure pass like a shadow; life is gone in an instant; it is nothing in itself, its worth depends on its use.  The good one has done alone remains, and it is through it that life amounts to something.

Therefore say no more that for you it is an evil to live, since it is in your power alone to make it a good, and if it is an evil to have lived, that is another reason to live on.  Do not say, either, that you are entitled to die; for it would be as good to say that you are entitled not to be a man, entitled to rebel against the author of your being, and betray your purpose.  But when you add that your death does no one harm, are you forgetting that it is to your friend you dare to say this?

Your death does no one harm? I see! To die at our expense hardly matters to you, you count our mourning for nothing.  I am not talking now about the rights of friendship,  which you dismiss; are there not yet dearer ones* that oblige you to preserve yourself?  If there is one person on earth who has loved you enough not to wish to survive you, and whose happiness is incomplete without yours, do you think you owe her nothing?  Will your lethal designs once carried out not trouble the peace of soul restored with such difficulty to its original innocence?  Do you not fear reopening in this too tender heart wounds that are poorly healed?  Do you not fear that your loss will bring about another yet more cruel, by depriving the world and virtue of their worthiest ornament?  And if she survives you, do you not fear provoking remorse in her breast, heavier to bear than life?  Ungrateful friend, indelicate lover, will you always be preoccupied with yourself?  Will you never be mindful of anything but your pains?  Are you not at all sensible to the happiness of that which you cherished?  And could you not manage to live for her who intended to die with you?

You mention the duties of the magistrate and paterfamilias, and because they are not imposed on you, you think you are completely uncommitted.  How about society to which you owe your preservation, your talents, your lights; the fatherland to which you belong, the wretched who need you, do you owe them nothing?  Oh what an impeccable enumeration you make!  Among the duties you count, you forget only those of man and Citizen.  Where is that virtuous patriot who refuses to sell his blood to a foreign prince because he must shed it only for his country, and who now, a desperate man, means to shed it against the express injunction of the laws?  The laws, the laws. Young man!  Does the wise man scorn them?  Guiltless Socrates, out of respect for them was unwilling to leave prison.  You do not hesitate to violate them in order to leave life unjustly, and you ask: what harm am I doing?

You try to justify yourself with examples.  You dare to cite me Romans! You, Romans!  Some right you have to dare pronounce those illustrious names!  Tell me, did Brutus die a desperate lover, and did Cato rip out his entrails for his mistress?  Petty, feeble man, what is shared between Cato and you?  Show me the common measure between that sublime soul and yours.  Brash fellow, hush!  I fear profaning his name by eulogizing him.  Before that holy and august name, every friend of virtue ought to bury his forehead in the dust, and honor in silence the memory of the greatest of men.

How ill chosen your examples are, and what low esteem you hold Romans in, if you think they believed they were entitled to take their lives as soon as they seemed onerous.  Look at the prime of the Republic, and see whether you will find there a single virtuous citizen delivering himself thus from the weight of his duties, even after the cruelest of misfortunes.  Did Regulus returning to Carthage avert by his death the torments that awaited him?  What would Posthumius not have given to enjoy that resource at the Caudine Forks?  What effort of courage did the Senate itself not admire in the Consul Varro for having managed to survive his defeat?  For what reason did so many Generals willingly allow themselves to be delivered to their enemies, they to whom ignominy was so cruel, and to whom dying was of so little price?  It is because they owed their blood, their lives, and their last breath to the fatherland, and because neither shame nor setbacks could turn them aside from that sacred duty.  But when the Laws were abolished and the State was a prey to Tyrants, the Citizens reclaimed their natural liberty and their rights over themselves.  When Rome was no longer, it was permissible for Romans to cease to exist; they had fulfilled their function on earth, they had lost their fatherland, they were entitled to dispose of themselves, and restore to themselves the liberty they could no longer restore to their country.  After using their life in the service of expiring Rome and fighting for law, they died virtuous and great as they had lived, and their death was yet another tribute to the glory of the Roman name, that in none of them should be held up the unworthy spectacle of true Citizens serving a usurper.

But you, who are you?  What have you done?  Do you think your obscurity is an excuse?  Does your weakness exempt you from you duties, and does having neither name nor rank in your Fatherland make you less subject to its laws?  Some right you have to dare speak of dying while you owe the use of your life to your fellow men!  Know that a death such as you contemplate is dishonorable and devious.  It is a larceny committed against mankind.  Before you take your leave of it, give it back what it has done for you.  But I have no attachments?  I am of no use to the world? Philosopher for a day!  Have you not learned that you could not take a step on earth without finding some duty to fulfill, and that every man is useful to humanity, by the very fact that he exist?

Listen to me, mad youth; you are dear to me; I pity your errors.  If you still have deep in your heart the least sentiment of virtue, come, let me teach you to love life.  Every time you are tempted to exit it, say to yourself: “Let me do one more good deed before I die.”  Then go find someone needy to assist, someone unfortunate to console, someone oppressed to defend.  Reconcile me with the wretched who are too intimidated to approach me; do not fear to squander either my purse or my influence: help yourself; exhaust my fortune, make me rich.  If this consideration hold you back today, it will hold you back again tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, your whole life long.  If it does not; die, you are nothing but an evil man.

 *  The strange letter for the deliberation in question!  Does one reason so peacefully over such a question, when one examines it for oneself?  Is the letter a fabrication, or does the Author want nothing more than to be refuted?  What could be grounds for doubt is the example of Robeck he cites, and which seems to furnish him a precedent. Robeck deliberated so soberly that he had the patience to write a book, a big book, a good long, ponderous, cold book, and once he had established, as he saw it, that is was permissible to take one’s own life, he did so with the same tranquillity. Let us be wary of prejudices of period and nation. When killing oneself is not in fashion, one imagines that only crazy people kill themselves; all acts of courage are so many fancies to feeble souls; every man judges the others only by himself. Yet have we not many attested examples of men wise on every other count, who, without remorse, without fury, without despair, relinquish life solely because it is a burden to them, and die more tranquilly than they have lived.

*  No, Milord, this is not the way to put an end to one’s misery, but to consummate it; one breaks the last ties linking us to happiness.  While mourning the person we cherished, we are still attached to the object of our suffering through the suffering itself, and this condition is less awful than being attached to nothing at all.

*  Rights dearer than those of the friendship?  And it is a sage who says this!  But this putative sage was himself in love.

NOTES:
  1. The strange letter for the deliberation in question!  Does one reason so peacefully over such a question, when one examines it for oneself?  Is the letter a fabrication, or does the Author want nothing more than to be refuted?  What could be grounds for doubt is the example
  2. No, Milord, this is not the way to put an end to one’s misery, but to consummate it; one breaks the last ties linking us to happiness.  While mourning the person we cherished, we are still attached to the object of our suffering through the suffering itself, and this condition is less awful than being attached to nothing at all.
  3. Rights dearer than those of the friendship?  And it is a sage who says this!  But this putative sage was himself in love.

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Filed under Europe, Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, Selections, Stoicism, The Early Modern Period

DAVID HUME
(1711-1776)

from Of Suicide
Letter to John Home of Ninewells


 

David Hume, the philosopher, economist, and historian whose ideas and arguments continue to profoundly influence the course of philosophical thought, was born in Scotland. With his older brother, he began at the University of Edinburgh before the age of 12. Despite his family’s suggestion that he read for the law, he chose to study philosophy (initially in secret, he later reported) because, as he said, he had an “insurmountable aversion to everything but the pursuit of philosophy and general learning.” His intense studies made him for a time concerned for his health.

Recovered, Hume lived in France from 1734 to 1737 and wrote what is often considered his most important philosophical work, A Treatise of Human Nature (1739–1740). Other notable works by Hume include Essays, Moral and Political (1741–42), An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748), An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals (1751), Political Discourses (1752), and History of England (1754–1762). His Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, which critiques the argument from order and adaptation in nature to an intelligent designer of the universe, was published posthumously to forestall religious controversy. In 1763, Hume returned to France to take up a post at the British embassy, where his writings had made him popular among intellectuals, including those of the salon of Paul-Henri Thiry, Baron d’Holbach [q.v.].

Hume’s philosophy is notable for its empiricism, naturalism, and skepticism. As an empiricist, he traces knowledge, belief, and the contents of thought itself to origins in experience. As a naturalist, he seeks to explain phenomena—even morality, thought, and other operations of the mind—in terms of ordinary laws of nature, without appeal to miracles, causally undetermined acts of “free will,” eternal moral relations in the fabric of the universe, or a supernatural creator or legislator. As a skeptic, he emphasizes the weaknesses and limited scope of human cognitive faculties.

Hume’s famous essay Of Suicide, offered here in the authentic 1757 text (which differs considerably from the frequently reprinted posthumous 1777 and 1783 versions), provides a series of detailed and adroit objections to the principal points of Thomas Aquinas’s [q.v.] arguments against suicide, including those that claim that suicide is “unnatural.” Hume asserts that “suicide . . . may be free from every imputation of guilt or blame.” Hume had written the suicide essay prior to June 1755 when he wrote to his bookseller about possible publication in a volume of longer dissertations (eventually published in 1757), but suppressed this and another essay, On the Immortality of the Soul—as he said in his letters, out of his “abundant Prudence”. However, a few copies were circulated, one of which came into the hands of a French bookseller, who in 1770, brought out a French translation possibly made by Holbach; it was not published in English until a year after Hume’s death, and then only in an edition without Hume’s name or the publisher’s identity.

Hume’s letter to John Home, his brother (both variants of the spelling were pronounced “hyum”), written at the age of 35 while Hume was serving as secretary to General James St. Clair, describes what some have called a “farcical” invasion of the coast of France. Hume’s letter gives a compelling account of Hume’s attempt, against the background of these circumstances, to prevent the death of a friend and military companion who had slit his veins. “Alas!” Hume says in explaining why he refused to assist the suicide as requested in the name of friendship, “we live not in Greek or Roman times.”

Hume returned to Edinburgh in 1769, where he died in 1776 after a year-long illness. His friends reported that he faced death with composure and good humor.

SOURCES

David Hume, Of Suicide (1757), manuscript in the National Library of Scotland with corrections in Hume’s own hand, text provided by Tom L. Beauchamp; “To John Home of Ninewells,” from J. Y. T. Grieg, ed., The Letters of David Hume. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932, vol. 1, letter 53, pp. 94-95, 97-98, spelling modernized.

from OF SUICIDE 

One considerable advantage, that arises from philosophy, consists in the sovereign antidote, which it affords to superstition and false religion. All other remedies against that pestilent distemper are vain, or, at least, uncertain. Plain good-sense, and the practice of the world, which alone serve most purposes of life, are here found ineffectual: history, as well as daily experience, affords instances of men, endowed with the strongest capacity for business and affairs, who have all their lives crouched under slavery to the grossest superstition. Even gaiety and sweetness of temper, which infuse a balm into every other wound, afford no remedy to so virulent a poison; as we may particularly observe of the fair sex, who, though commonly possessed of these rich presents of nature, feel many of their joys blasted by this importunate intruder. But when sound philosophy has once gained possession of the mind, superstition is effectually excluded; and one may safely affirm, that her triumph over this enemy is more complete than over most of the vices and imperfections, incident to human nature. Love or anger, ambition or avarice, have their root in the temper and affections, which the soundest reason is scarce ever able fully to correct. But superstition, being founded on false opinion, must immediately vanish, when true philosophy has inspired juster sentiments of superior powers. The contest is here more equal between the distemper and the medicine: and nothing can hinder the latter from proving effectual, but its being false and sophisticated.

It will here be superfluous to magnify the merits of philosophy, by displaying the pernicious tendency of that vice, of which it cures the human mind. The superstitious man, says Tully, is miserable in every scene, in every incident in life. Even sleep itself, which banishes all other cares of unhappy mortals, affords to him matter of new terror; while he examines his dreams, and finds in those visions of the night, prognostications of future calamities. I may add, that, though death alone can put a full period to his misery, he dares not fly to this refuge, but still prolongs a miserable existence, from a vain fear, lest he offend his maker, by using the power, with which that beneficent being has endowed him. The presents of God and Nature are ravished from us by this cruel enemy; and notwithstanding that one step would remove us from the regions of pain and sorrow, her menaces still chain us down to a hated being, which she herself chiefly contributes to render miserable.

It is observed of such as have been reduced by the calamities of life to the necessity of employing this fatal remedy, that, if the unseasonable care of their friends deprive them of that species of death, which they proposed to themselves, they seldom venture upon any other, or can summon up so much resolution, a second time, as to execute their purpose. So great is our horror of death, that when it presents itself under any form, besides that to which a man has endeavored to reconcile his imagination, it acquires new terrors, and overcomes his feeble courage. But when the menaces of superstition are joined to this natural timidity, no wonder it quite deprives men of all power over their lives; since even many pleasures and enjoyments, to which we are carried by a strong propensity, are torn from us by this inhuman tyrant. Let us here endeavor to restore men to their native liberty, by examining all the common arguments against suicide, and showing, that that action may be free from every imputation of guilt or blame; according to the sentiments of all the antient philosophers.

If suicide be criminal, it must be a transgression of our duty either to God, our neighbor, or ourselves.

To prove, that suicide is no transgression of our duty to God, the following considerations may perhaps suffice. In order to govern the material world, the almighty creator has established general and immutable laws, by which all bodies, from the greatest planet to the smallest particle of matter, are maintained in their proper sphere and function. To govern the animal world, he has endowed all living creatures with bodily and mental powers; with senses, passions, appetites, memory, and judgment; by which they are impelled or regulated in that course of life, to which they are destined. These two distinct principles of the material and animal world continually encroach upon each other, and mutually retard or forward each other’s operation. The powers of men and of all other animals are restrained and directed by the nature and qualities of the surrounding bodies; and the modifications and actions of these bodies are incessantly altered by the operation of all animals. Man is stopped by rivers in his passage over the surface of the earth; and rivers, when properly directed, lend their force to the motion of machines, which serve to the use of man. But though the provinces of the material and animal powers are not help entirely separate, there result from thence no discord or disorder in the creation: on the contrary, from the mixture, union, and contrast of all the various powers of inanimate bodies and living creatures, arises that surprising harmony and proportion, which affords the surest argument of supreme wisdom.

The providence of the deity appears not immediately in any operation, but governs every thing by those general and immutable laws, which have been established from the beginning of time. All events, in one sense, may be pronounced the action of the almighty: they all proceed from those powers, with which he has endowed his creatures. A house, which falls by its own weight, is not brought to ruin by his providence more than one destroyed by the hands of men; nor are the human faculties less his workmanship than the laws of motion and gravitation. When the passions play, when the judgment dictates, when the limbs obey; this is all the operation of God; and upon these animate principles, as well as upon the inanimate, has he established the government of the universe.

Every event is alike important in the eyes of that infinite being, who takes in, at one glance, the most distant regions of space and remotest periods of time. There is no one event, however important to us, which he has exempted from the general laws that govern the universe, or which he has peculiarly reserved for his own immediate action and operation. The revolutions of states and empires depend upon the smallest caprice or passion of single men; and the lives of men are shortened or extended by the smallest accident of air or diet, sunshine or tempest. Nature still continues her progress and operation; and if general laws be ever broke by particular volitions of the deity, it is after a manner which entirely escapes human observation. As on the one hand, the elements and other inanimate parts of the creation carry on their action without regard to the particular interest and situation of men; so men are entrusted to their own judgment and discretion in the various shocks of matter, and may employ every faculty, with which they are endowed, in order to provide for their ease, happiness, or preservation.

What is the meaning, then, of that principle, that a man, who, tired of life, and hunted by pain and misery, bravely overcomes all the natural terrors of death, and makes his escape from this cruel scene; that such a man, I say, has incurred the indignation of his creator, by encroaching on the office of divine providence, and disturbing the order of the universe? Shall we assert, that the Almighty has reserved to himself, in any peculiar manner, the disposal of the lives of men, and has not submitted that event, in common with others, to the general laws, by which the universe is governed? This is plainly false. The lives of men depend upon the same laws as the lives of all other animals; and these are subjected to the general laws of matter and motion. The fall of a tower or the infusion of a poison will destroy a man equally with the meanest creature: An inundation sweeps away every thing, without distinction, that comes within the reach of its fury. Since therefore the lives of men are for ever dependent on the general laws of matter and motion; is a man’s disposing of his life criminal, because, in every case it is criminal to encroach upon these laws, or disturb their operation? But this seems absurd. All animals are entrusted to their own prudence and skill for their conduct in the world, and have full authority, as far as their power extends, to alter all the operations of nature. Without the exercise of this authority, they could not subsist a moment. Every action, every motion of a man innovates in the order of some parts of matter, and diverts, from their ordinary course, the general laws of motion. Putting together, therefore, these conclusions, we find, that human life depends upon the general laws of matter and motion, and that ‘tis no encroachment on the office of providence to disturb or alter these general laws. Has not every one, of consequence, the free disposal of his own life? And may he not lawfully employ that power with which nature has endowed him?

In order to destroy the evidence of this conclusion, we must show a reason, why this particular case is excepted. Is it because human life is of such great importance, that it is a presumption for human prudence to dispose of it? But the life of a man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster. And were it of ever so great importance, the order of nature has actually submitted it to human prudence, and reduced us to a necessity, in every incident, of determining concerning it.

Were the disposal of human life so much reserved as the peculiar province of the almighty, that it were an encroachment on his right for men to dispose of their own lives; it would be equally criminal to act for the preservation of life as for its destruction. If I turn aside a stone, which is falling upon my head, I disturb the course of nature, and I invade the peculiar province of the almighty, by lengthening out my life, beyond the period, which, by the general laws of matter and motion, he had assigned to it.

A hair, a fly, an insect is able to destroy this mighty being, whose life is of such importance. Is it an absurdity to suppose, that human prudence may lawfully dispose of what depends on such insignificant causes?

It would be no crime in me to divert the Nile or Danube from its course, were I able to effect such purposes. Where then is the crime of turning a few ounces of blood from their natural channels!

Do you imagine that I repine at providence or curse my creation, because I go out of life, and put a period to a being, which, were it to continue, would render me miserable? Far be such sentiments from me. I am only convinced of a matter of fact, which you yourself acknowledge possible, that human life may be unhappy, and that my existence, if farther prolonged, would become uneligible. But I thank providence, both for the good, which I have already enjoyed, and for the power, with which I am endowed, of escaping the ill that threatens me. To you it belongs to repine at providence, who foolishly imagine that you have no such power, and who must still prolong a hated being, though loaded with pain and sickness, with shame and poverty.

Do you not teach, that when any ill befalls me, though by the malice of my enemies, I ought to be resigned to providence; and that the actions of men are the operations of the almighty as much as the actions of inanimate beings? When I fall upon my sword, therefore, I receive my death equally from the hands of the deity, and if it had proceeded from a lion, a precipice, or a fever.

The submission, which you require to providence, in every calamity, that befalls me, excludes not human skill and industry; if possibly, by their means, I can avoid or escape the calamity. And why may I not employ one remedy as well as another?

If my life be not my own, it were criminal for me to put it in danger, as well as to dispose of it: nor could one man deserve the appellation of hero, whom glory or friendship transports into the greatest dangers, and another merit the reproach of wretch or miscreant, who puts a period to his life, from the same or like motives.

There in no being, which possesses any power or faculty, that it receives not from its creator; nor is there any one, which, by ever so irregular an action, can encroach upon the plan of his providence, or disorder the universe. Its operations are his work equally with that chain of events, which it invades; and which ever principle prevails, we may, for that very reason, conclude it to be most favored by him. Be it animate, or inanimate, rational or irrational, it is all a case: its power is still derived from the supreme creator, and is alike comprehended in the order of his providence. When the horror of pain prevails over the love of life: when a voluntary action anticipates the effect of blind causes; it is only in consequence of those powers and principles, which he has implanted in his creatures. Divine providence is still inviolate, and placed far beyond the reach of human injuries.

It is impious, says the old Roman superstition, to divert rivers from their course, or invade the prerogatives of nature. It is impious, says the French superstition, to inoculate for the small-pox, or usurp the business of providence, by voluntarily producing distempers and maladies. It is impious, says the modern European superstition, to put a period to our own life, and thereby rebel against our creator. And why not impious, say I, to build houses, cultivate the ground, or sail upon the ocean? In all these actions, we employ our powers of mind and body to produce some innovation in the course of nature; and in none of them do we any more. They are all of them, therefore, equally innocent or equally criminal.

But you are placed by providence, like a sentinel, in a particular station; and when you desert it, without being recalled, you are guilty of rebellion against your almighty sovereign, and have incurred his displeasure. I ask, why do you conclude, that providence has placed me in this station? For my part, I find, that I owe my birth to a long chain of causes, of which many and even the principal, depended upon voluntary actions of men. But providence guided all these causes, and nothing happens in the universe without its consent and cooperation. If so, then neither does my death, however voluntary, happen without its consent; and whenever pain and sorrow so far overcome my patience as to make me tired of life, I may conclude, that I am recalled from my station, in the clearest and most express terms.

It is providence, surely, that has placed me at present in this chamber: but may I not leave it, when I think proper, without being liable to the imputation of having deserted my post or station? When I shall be dead, the principles, of which I am composed, will still perform their part in the universe, and will be equally useful in the grand fabric, as when they composed this individual creature. The difference to the whole will be no greater than between my being in a chamber and in the open air. The one change is of more importance to me than the other; but not more so to the universe.

It is a kind of blasphemy to imagine, that any created being can disturb the order of the world, or invade the business of providence. It supposes, that that being possesses powers and faculties, which it received not from its creator, and which are not subordinate to his government and authority. A man may disturb society, no doubt; and thereby incur the displeasure of the almighty: but the government of the world is placed far beyond his reach and violence. And how does it appear, that the almighty is displeased with those actions, that disturb society? By the principles which he has implanted in human nature, and which inspire us with a sentiment of remorse, if we ourselves have been guilty of such actions, and with that of blame and disapprobation, if we ever observe them in others. Let us now examine, according to the method proposed, whether suicide be of this kind of actions, and be a breach of our duty to our neighbor and to society.

A man, who retires from life, does no harm to society. He only ceases to do good; which, if it be an injury, is of the lowest kind.

All our obligations to do good to society seem to imply something reciprocal. I receive the benefits of society, and therefore ought to promote its interest. But when I withdraw myself altogether from society, can I be bound any longer?

But allowing, that our obligations to do good were perpetual, they have certainly some bounds. I am not obliged to do a small good to society, at the expense of a great harm to myself. Why then should I prolong a miserable existence, because of some frivolous advantage, which the public may, perhaps, receive from me? If upon account of age and infirmities, I may lawfully resign any office, and employ my time altogether in fencing against these calamities, and alleviating, as much as possible, the miseries of my future life: why may I not cut short these miseries at once by an action, which is no more prejudicial to society?

But suppose, that it is no longer in my power to promote the interest of the public: suppose, that I am a burden to it: suppose, that my life hinders some person from being much more useful to the public. In such cases my resignation of life must not only be innocent but laudable. And most people, who lie under any temptation to abandon existence, are in some such situation. Those, who have health, or power, or authority, have commonly better reason to be in humor with the world.

A man is engaged in a conspiracy for the public interest; is seized upon suspicion; is threatened with the rack; and knows, from his own weakness, that the secret will be extorted from him: could such a one consult the public interest better than by putting a quick period to a miserable life? This was the case of the famous and brave Strozzi of Florence.

Again, suppose a malefactor justly condemned to a shameful death; can any reason be imagined, why he may not anticipate his punishment, and save himself all the anguish of thinking on its dreadful approaches? He invades the business of providence no more than the magistrate did, who ordered his execution; and his voluntary death is equally advantageous to society, by ridding it of a pernicious member.

That suicide may often be consistent with interest and with our duty to ourselves, no one can question, who allows, that age, sickness, or misfortune may render life a burden, and make it worse even than annihilation. I believe that no man ever threw away life, while it was worth keeping. For such is our natural horror of death, that small motives will never be able to reconcile us to it. And though perhaps the situation of a man’s health or fortune did not seem to require this remedy, we may at least be assured, that any one, who, without apparent reason, has had recourse to it, was cursed with such an incurable depravity or gloominess of temper, as must poison all enjoyment, and render him equally miserable as if he had been loaded with the most grievous misfortunes.

If suicide be supposed a crime, it is only cowardice can impel us to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should engage us to rid ourselves at once of existence, when it becomes a burden. It is the only way, that we can then be useful to society, by setting as example, which, if imitated, would preserve to every one his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually free him from all danger of misery[1].

NOTES

1 It would be easy to prove, that suicide is as lawful under the Christian dispensation as it was to the heathens. There is not a single text of scripture, which prohibits it. That great infallible rule of faith and practice, which must control all philosophy and human reasoning, has left us, in this particular, to our natural liberty. Resignation to providence is, indeed, recommended in scripture; but that implies only submission to ills, which are unavoidable, not to such as may be remedied by prudence or courage. Thou shalt not kill is evidently meant to exclude only the killing of others, over whose life we have no authority. That this precept like most of the scripture precepts, must be modified by reason and common sense, is plain from the practice of magistrates, who punish criminals capitally, notwithstanding the letter of this law. But were this commandment ever so express against suicide, it could now have no authority. For all the law of Moses is abolished, except so far as it is established by the law of nature; and we have already endeavored to prove, that suicide is not prohibited by that law. In all cases, Christians and heathens are precisely upon the same footing; and if Cato and Brutus, Arria and Portia acted heroically, those who now imitate their example ought to receive the same praises from posterity. The power of committing suicide is regarded by Pliny as an advantage which men possess even above the deity himself. Deus non sibi potest mortem consciscere, si velit, quod homini dedit optimum in tantis vitae paenis. [Although God cannot inflict death upon himself, even if he would, he has given this to man as the best course in life’s great pains.] Lib. ii. Cap. 7.

TO JOHN HOME OF NINEWELLS

Oct. 4, 1746

Our first warlike attempt has been unsuccessful, though without any loss or dishonour. The public rumor must certainly have informed you, that being detained in the channel, till it was too late to go to America, the Ministry, who were willing to make some advantage of so considerable a sea and land armament, sent us to seek adventures on the coast of France.  Though both the general and admiral were totally unacquainted with every part of the coast, without pilots, guides or intelligence of any kind, and even without the common maps of the country; yet being assured there were no regular troops near this whole coast, they hoped it was not impossible but something might be successfully undertaken.  They bent their course to Port l’Orient, a fine town on the coast of Brittany, the seat of the French East India Trade, and which about 20 years ago, was but a mean contemptible village…

While we lay at Ploemeur, a village about a league from L’Orient, there happened in our family one of the most tragical stories I ever heard of, than which nothing ever gave me more concern.  I know not if ever you heard of Major [Alexander] Forbes [of the 42nd Foot, the Black Watch; gazetted Captain, May 1745], a brother of Sir Arthur’s.  He was, and was esteemed a man of greatest sense, honour, modesty, mildness, and equality of temper in the world.  His learning was very great for a man of any profession, be a prodigy for a soldier.  His bravery had been tried and was unquestioned.  He had exhausted himself with fatigue and hunger for two days, so that he was obliged to leave the camp, and come to our quarters, where I took the utmost care of him, as there was a great friendship betwixt us.  He expressed vast anxiety that he should be obliged to leave his duty, and fear, least his honour should suffer by it.  I endeavored to quiet his mind as much as possible, and thought I had left him tolerably composed at night; but returning to his room early next morning, I found him with small remains of life, wallowing in his own blood, with the arteries of his arm cut asunder.  I immediately sent for a surgeon, got a bandage tied to his arm and recovered him entirely to his senses and understanding.  He lived above four and twenty hours after, and I had several conversations with him.  Never a man expressed a more steady contempt of life nor more determined philosophical principles, suitable to his exit.  He begged of me to unloosen his bandage and hasten his death, as the last act of friendship I could show him: but alas! we live not in Greek or Roman times.  He told me, that he knew, he could not live a few days: but if he did, as soon as he became his own master, he would take a more expeditious method, which none of his friends could prevent.  I die, says he, from a jealousy of honor, perhaps too delicate; and do you think, if it were possible for me to live, I would now consent to it, to be a gazing-stock to the foolish world.  I am too far advanced to return.  And if life was odious to me before, it must be doubly so at present.  He became delirious a few hours before he died.  He had wrote a short letter to his brother above ten hours before he cut his arteries.  This we found on the table.

Quiberon Bay in Brittany

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JOHN WESLEY
(1703-1791)

Thoughts on Suicide


 

An English preacher and writer, John Wesley and his brother Charles were the founders of Methodism. Born in Epworth, Lincolnshire, England to Anglican rector Samuel Wesley, John was educated at the Charterhouse School and was elected fellow of Lincoln College in 1726. Wesley viewed the clergy of the 18th-century Anglican church as incompetent, corrupt, and unconcerned with the large class of non-churchgoing people, a group to whom he directed many of his efforts, often at outdoor sermons. In 1729, he became an important participant in a religious group founded by his brother Charles at Oxford. This “Holy Club” was the first to adopt the name “Methodists,” originally a pejorative descriptor given to the group by other students. After a disappointing attempt to introduce his religious views to the American colonies where his own outlook was deeply influenced by Moravian settlers, Wesley returned and began in 1739 to establish Methodist societies throughout England, traveling over 250,000 miles in his ministry. He spent most of his life traveling and preaching, and, in 1784, gave the Methodist societies a legal constitution. Before his death in 1791, he ordained Thomas Coke the principal Methodist Episcopal minister for the new church in the United States, marking the beginning of a Methodist separation from within the Church of England, although Wesley and his brother in particular would continue to urge their English followers to remain with the Church of England.

The impetus for Wesley’s fervent proselytizing came in 1738, when he experienced a significant spiritual conversion. During a small religious meeting in London, he reported that his “heart was strangely warmed.” He wrote, “I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation.” This message became the central tenet of Wesley’s lifelong missionary work.

In a very brief piece dated April 8, 1790, later published among his letters, Wesley discusses his thoughts on suicide. He is concerned that the then-existent laws of England, which held suicide to be a felony criminal offense (felo de se) and were designed to deter suicide, were ineffective, since the courts were able to avoid conviction (and its disastrous consequences for heirs) by declaring the person insane. In the case of such a verdict, no action, such as seizing the suicide’s estate for forfeiture to the crown or refusing a suicide Christian burial, could be taken. Recalling Plutarch’s [q.v.] account of the way further suicides among the young women of Miletus were prevented by public exposure of the dead bodies naked, Wesley offers as his solution that the body of the suicide be hung in chains and publicly displayed. Surely, he thinks, this would end the “English fury” of suicides.

SOURCE

John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, vol. XIII: Letters. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1958. From the authorized edition published by the Wesleyan Conference Office, London, 1872.

THOUGHTS ON SUICIDE

It is a melancholy consideration, that there is no country in Europe, or perhaps in the habitable world, where the horrid crime of self-murder is so common as it is in England!  One reason of this may be, that the English in general are more ungodly and more impatient than other nations.  Indeed we have laws against it, and officers with juries are appointed to inquire into every fact of the kind.  And these are to give in their verdict upon oath, whether the self-murderer was sane or insane.  If he is brought in insane, he is excused, and the law does not affect him.  By this means it is totally eluded; for the juries constantly bring him in insane.  So the law is not of the least effect, though the farce of a trial still continues.

This morning I asked a Coroner, “Sir, did you ever know a jury bring in the deceased felo de se?”  He answered, “No, Sir; and it is a pity they should.”  What then is the law good for?  If all self-murderers are mad, what need of any trial concerning them?

But it is plain our ancestors did not think so, or those laws had never been made.  It is true, every self-murderer is mad in some sense, but not in that sense which the law intends.  This fact does not prove him mad in the eye of the law: The question is, Was he mad in other respects?  If not, every juror is perjured who does not bring him in felo de se.

But how can this vile abuse of the law be prevented, and this execrable crime effectually discouraged?

By a very easy method.  We read in ancient history, that, at a certain period, many of the women in Sparta murdered themselves.  This fury increasing, a law was made, that the body of every woman that killed herself should be exposed naked in the streets.  The fury ceased at once.

Only let a law be made and rigorously executed, that the body of every self-murderer, Lord or peasant, shall be hanged in chains, and the English fury will cease at once.

Liverpool,  April 8, 1790.                                                                 JOHN WESLEY.

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CALEB FLEMING
(1698-1779)

from A Dissertation Upon the Unnatural Crime of Self-Murder


 

Caleb Fleming was born in Nottingham and brought up in a Calvinist home. Fleming’s early desire was to enter the ministry; as a boy he learned shorthand in order to write down sermons. However, when Presbyterian minister John Hardy opened a nonconformist academy in 1714, Fleming, while a student there, rejected his parents’ religion and decided to pursue a life in business. Fleming married and moved to London in 1727; apparently, he lived by writing but was often in financial straits. Under the entreaties of friends, Fleming entered the dissenting ministry. Through a series of sermons, he eventually secured the post of pastor (though he classed himself as an independent) for the Presbyterian congregation at Bartholomew Close where he ministered for 15 years before the congregation shrank to nonexistence and the meeting-house lease expired. When he died, he left the epigraph of a “dissenting teacher” on his gravestone.

Fleming was a prolific pamphleteer: he died with over a hundred combative theological and political works to his credit, although most were published anonymously. His principal work, “A Survey of the Search After Souls” (1758), contends that the soul possesses a “capacity of immortality” rather than an inherent immortality. His unique, anti-trinitarian confession of faith is seen in “True Deism, the Basis of Christianity” (1749). In one sermon, he classified Confucius, Socrates, Plato, Cicero, and Seneca among vehicles of divine revelation. Many of his writings and exhortations addressed the topic of moral corruption.

In the lengthy A Dissertation Upon the Unnatural Crime of Self-Murder (1773), excerpted here, Fleming uses a variety of theological and moral arguments to show the “unnaturalness” and “great depravity” of suicide. Among them, he argues that earthly life is a probationary period and so ought not to be interrupted, and that suicide is “so deformed” that the prohibition of it need not be explicitly mentioned in the Bible. There are no exceptions and no excuses, and the fact that a suicide victim was of unbalanced mind carries no weight. Unlike many other Christian apologists (including Augustine [q.v.]), Fleming does not find grounds for excusing the various Biblical suicides, and insists, for example, that Saul, Saul’s armor-bearer, and Ahitophel were all “extremely wicked.”

SOURCE

Caleb Fleming, A Dissertation Upon the Unnatural Crime of Self-Murder. London: Printed for Edward and Charles Dilly, 1773, excerpted from pp. 2-21, 24.

from A DISSERTATION UPON THE UNNATURAL CRIME OF SELF-MURDER

. . . I shall . . . presume first to lay down, and afterwards prove, the truth of this proposition, viz. “That not any thing can be more unnatural, and argue a greater depravity of mind, than self-murder.” Yet here I would be understood to except such, who, by the hand of God, are deprived of the use of their reason and understanding. …

To those who do believe there is a God, and that man is accountable, this will be one powerful reason against the act of suicism, viz. that the present mode of man’s existence is, and must be probationary. It should appear to be a self-evident truth, that during the term of human life, wherein man has the use of his intellectual faculties and powers continued to him, he is a probationer, and as such is appointed to conflict with temptation. Now every man is well informed, that the breath which is in his nostrils, is not under his own volition or command; and that what propriety he has in it, is only that of a loan, which affords him no manner of right to give it a dismission at his own pleasure. The life-principle, he knows, is not his own; because it operates wholly under another’s direction. In other words, he has no hand at all in that wonderful principle or power, which animates his bodily machine.

It certainly is a communicated bestowment for all the purposes of man’s present perceptions, pursuits, and also sensitive fruitions. Or, it is that measure of his probationary duration, which is subject only to the decisions of infinite unerring wisdom. It is therefore the unalienable prerogative of the universal Sovereign, and is thus represented by the oracle; I KILL, AND I MAKE ALIVE! I WOUND, AND I HEAL! This character the Almighty claims and appropriates. A truth to which the Son of God bears witness, when he makes this appeal, “Which of you can, by taking thought, add one cubit to his stature, shadow; or age?”

Since, therefore, life is a divine communication, it behoves us to reverence and hold sacred the important gift, nor ever once resign, or consent to sacrifice it, but upon the altar of truth and God. Of so great importance is life, that an incessant care to preserve it from any apprehended peril, is a first law of our make. And although in the book of Job, it was that figurative character, called Satan, who said, “Skin after skin, yea, all that a man hath, will he give for his life:” it is nevertheless an indisputable truth. Witness the many painful and desperate operations, to which great numbers of mankind submit, in order to preserve life. But then, even this principle, though universal, has its boundaries and exceptions: for at the same time, that, in its efficacy, it should extend to all afflictive or painful visitations, with which heaven is pleased to try the patience, submission and resignation of man; it nevertheless should, by no means, ever admit of a man’s hurting his virtue, or the morality of his own mind, in order to preserve his natural life. —I am persuaded, there truly is not one supposable circumstance, which can possibly enter into the compass of human trial, where man could be justified in taking away his own life. There cannot for this very reason, viz. his present mode of existence, is most certainly probationary: and the God, whose gift it is, has reserved to himself the sole right of disposal of human life.

Again, as this mode of man’s existence is probationary, so it is, that he is instructed both by reason and revelation, to conduct himself as becomes a candidate, who has in view a state of recompence. If, therefore, he is found to behave reasonably, or according to the truth, propriety, and fitness of things, he cannot but see it to be requisite, that he leave the matter wholly to the giver and Lord of life, to determine both when and how he shall finish his probation: forasmuch as it would be an expression of the most provoking insolence and arrogance, in any one creature, to assume the sole prerogative of heaven. Thus, at first view, it appears unpardonably criminal in the probationer for a world of recompence, to give himself a discharge from his duty, upon any disgust petulantly taken by him, at the circumstances of his trial. The guilty wretch instantly and impiously plunges himself into remediless misery…why the rankling chagrine in any professing Christian? Why so much fretfulness? Why such a furious agitation of mind, as to offer an open insult to the divinely animating spirit, merely because fallen under some calamities? – But, alas! among the horrible number of self-murderers, scarce any have been so presumptuous and daring, except minds conscious of some perpetrated villanies, that would not bear the canvassing eye of their fellow-men. More usually, they have been such who have brought on their distresses, either from luxury, gaming, or other extravagance, else from debauchery.

As to others of mankind who have fallen under very heavy afflictions, immediately and apparently from the hand of heaven, and are conscious that they have not brought on those their distresses by their own follies and vices; these seeing the visitation to be no other than a fatherly chastisement, are never so presumptuous or daring. In truth, all men who live as probationers, or who act in character, learn to say with Job, whenever evils fall heavily upon them, “Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil? –The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord,” — On the contrary, peevish, fretful minds, full of discontent, are ready to arraign not only the goodness, but even the equity and justice of the adorable sovereign; and are deplorably inattentive to their own appointments; for they will not be persuaded to consider themselves as candidates for a world of recompence. But on the contrary, if heaven does not indulge them with all the present sensitive good they wish, or shall throw into their lot more evil than their pride and vanity can admit, they scruple not presently to spit in his face, and impudently quit the station he had assigned them.

We may further consider suicism, not only as a crime unbecoming a probationary state, and no way pardonable in a candidate for a world of recompence, but also as in itself so very shockingly deformed, as not to have been discriminately noticed in any of the divine prohibitions; just as if it was not supposable, that an intelligent rational creature, accountable to its Creator, could ever once admit the shocking idea, the unnatural, abhorrent image.… And, in fact, there does not appear to have been a record made of any suicides in the sacred history, but those of the most abandoned characters. Saul and his armour-bearer, we may conclude to have been extremely wicked. So was Ahitophel, who first set his house in order, and then hanged himself. A very deliberate self-murderer. So was that miscreant, Judas, the traitor. And may we not say of all such, “better they had never been born.” — For in the very last act they perform, they willfully and impiously withdraw themselves from the animating spirit of God, and leave themselves no space for repentance…But though it has not more effectually done this, yet the extreme deformity and malignity of suicism, is what should be inferred, from its not having had any distinct, discriminating idea given of it, in any of the written laws of God. Its diametrical opposition to the most powerful instinctive principles of self-preservation in the breast of every man, seems to have rendered needless any express prohibition.

Self-murder may be yet further considered, as an act of high-treason, not only against the sovereignty of the universal Lord, but against the laws of human society. It destroys the very foundation of social virtue, and of all moral obligation. For this is one of the two principles or axioms, on which all moral virtue and piety does support, viz. “thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”…Now, if we can thus capitally abuse ourselves, as to become persuaded we may take away life at our pleasure, and so quit our appointed stations, then that fundamental principle or axiom is of little meaning, and has in it nothing useful. …

Assuredly, the man who is persuaded he may dismiss his own life, whenever he is out of humour with his circumstances, can furnish us with no good ground of dependance, either on his social virtue, or even on his humanity.

Nay, the argument against suicism has a yet larger scope and extent; since if one man may be justified in taking away his own life, then another may. — Now, do but let the idea once spread and become infectious, a depopulation or waste would anon render our villages, aye our very towns and cities desolate…

Should it now be asked, what are the apologies which have been made for self-murder? They have been such as follow.

There are some who have pleaded in excuse for the suicide, “that the act is in itself a proof of insanity; and that no man ever had the use of his reason when he destroyed himself.”

To such I would reply, that the same apology might be made for every wicked action which men commit; because it had place from reason being dethroned, and from appetite and passion having usurped the reins of government. But who will say, that the highway-robber and murderer, from having taken the qualifying draught of strong liquors which he found necessary for the daring enterprise, did thereby acquire less degree of demerit and guilt? Or, is it a greater apology for the self-murderer, that by a series of extravagance, or some previous act of great wickedness he qualified himself? Or even because he suffered his avarice, pride or ambition, to become outrageous? Suicism, on the contrary, has more aggravations in it, than many capital crimes for which men are cut off by the punishing hand of justice.

There are many instances of the suicide having given full proof that he was in the possession of his reason and understanding, when he perpetrated the unnatural crime, and that it was done with deliberation, and direct purpose to destroy himself: and that he was neither lunatic, nor distracted by distemper or disease. For our law makes this allowance, “ that if a person during the time that he is not compos mentis, gives himself a mortal wound though he dies thereof when he recovers his memory; he is not felo de se, because at the time of the stroke he was not compos mentis.” i.e. As I understand the law, the man himself then knew he was not. — But if man was not capable of perpetrating the suicism, except in a state of insanity, it would be no crime; and the law would be extremely iniquitous, that supposed it criminal.

Should it in the next place be asked. “What is most usually the exciting MOTIVE to an act of suicism?”

It might be answered, that in the female it is more commonly a dread of shame, from having suffered herself to be dishonored; also from the love-passion having been ungovernable; or from the infidelity and ill-usage of a husband. – Whereas in the males, it is ordinarily some cross event, which has deeply affected the man’s worldly circumstances: or, perhaps, he has had a bad run of chances in his gaming: else, by some other criminal indulgences, he has reduced his finances to a very low condition: else he has suffered the chagrin to rise so fatally high, because of very sudden provocation. I own, I am apprehensive, there is some conscious guilt ever attends the loss or disappointment, or whatever the external evil is, that excites to suicism.

But let imagination have full play, and vary, as much as you possibly can, the motives to self-murder, their total amount can have no proportional weight; even though the rack of the stone or gout should have all its excruciating tortures: since the measure is full of guilt and crime; and has nothing in it that can promise to relieve, but must greatly aggravate the wretchedness! — Whereas the language of approved piety and exalted virtue, is recorded to have run thus, in the deepest distress, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” And the supplicatory address, this — “Shew me wherefore thou contendest with me.” Even the highest, the most amiable, and perfect of all human characters, said, “NOT MY WILL; BUT THINE BE DONE.”

Far otherwise the exciting motive in the suicide, which is a rankling, unreasonable dissatisfaction with his present situation; proceeding either from a disbelief of a wife, powerful, and good superintending mind, that intuitively and incessantly surveys the whole system of beings! Else from an impious disgust at his own allotments. And it may be safely presumed, that the operating motive is always worldly. The heart had nothing better than an earthly treasure, else it would never have committed the unnatural action of a felo de se.

If the above reasoning be good, there is nothing more clear and convincing than the proposition at first laid down, namely, “That there can be nothing more unnatural and cruel; or that argues a greater depravity of mind than self-murder.”…

There may now be sundry instructive corollaries, or conclusions drawn from the above reasoning upon the suicide; which may well deserve the notice of my fellow-citizens. Such as follow.

Corol. I. The increased number of self- murders about this great city, and in other parts, is an irrefragable proof of the deep depravity of the morals of our country. The insidious and restless enemies of Britain’s welfare, have at last so far succeeded in disseminating skepticism and infidelity; i.e. a disbelief of a providence, of a revelation, and a future state; which is what qualifies men for these enormities. And they have compassed their end in thus depraving the people, by inventing every measure that could lead to dissipation, and dissoluteness of manners. It was never known since the reformation, that Britain wore so detestable a complexion as that she now does, in whatever department you make the survey: for when you put to the account, the great advantages she has had above the former times of palpable darkness, under a popish system of government both in church and state, you must fall under conviction; and be constrained to own, her condition appears to be incurable and desperate. In fact, her impieties, immoralities, and vices, are matchless. — I question whether there be a nation upon the face of this globe, which in its annals could produce so great a run of suicides, since Christianity made its spread in the world. — It has been already observed, that when pagan Rome was in the decline of her glory, having lost all public virtue, suicism then became common: and those of that depraved people were reckoned brave, who had rather chosen to destroy themselves, than become the slaves of tyrants. But our self-murderers pretend to no such specious motive. They have lived viciously, and they will die impiously. The life which God only lent them, they presume to sacrifice to their own pride and passion. And although our laws would set a brand of infamy upon them, yet the horrid impiety is concealed or covered, either through a mistaken tenderness, else by a shameful venality and bribery.

I have said, a mistaken tenderness — Yet would observe, that the inequity of our laws does seem to apologize much for that tenderness; since it appears to be a very severe “forfeiture in felo de se, of all his goods and chattels, real and personal, which he hath in his own right; and all such chattels, real and personal, which he hath jointly with his wife, or in her right, when found upon the oath of twelve men before the coroner, super visum corporis, that he felo de se hath. He forfeits also bonds, or things in action, belonging solely to himself, and all entire chattels in possession; except in the case of merchants, where a moiety only of such joint- chattels, as may be saved, is forfeited.”

This forfeiture has a manifest severity in it; and which makes the heart of humanity to revolt at the punishment falling so heavily upon the criminal’s wife and children, who are innocent; and have already by the act of suicism suffered the loss of an husband and father, and are deprived of all further assistance and comfort from and in him.

To pretend, in justification of this forfeiture, that “God himself is said to visit the iniquity of fathers upon their children unto the third and fourth generation of them who hate him;” must be impertinent; for in such visitation, man is not of competent ability to copy his unerring measures of inflicting punishment. And if I have not mistaken the divine visitation, it intends only such children as copy their fathers iniquity; such as continue to resemble him in wickedness. And so I am persuaded it must be understood, when I read the 18th chapter of Ezekiel’s prophecy.

Other measures should be taken to deter men from the unnatural, shocking crime of self murder, — And I am humbly apprehensive, that a stop might be put to the spread of suicism, by having the naked body exposed in some public place: over which the coroner should deliver an oration on the foul impiety; and then the body, like that of the homicide, be given to the surgeons.

Corol. II. If this be the only probationary state of man, in which he can be a candidate for a world of recompence, then life must be his most inestimable property, as an improveable talent… “As though it were never to have a beginning.”…

The idea of our being probationers for a world of recompence, has had the assent of the most wise and judicious of mankind; that it is manifestly a document of reason and nature; and what will bear the most accurate and critical examination. The reasoning and argument, which has been built upon this foundation, is therefore irrefragable and conclusive. And since this is the truth of the case, suicide is capitally criminal.

Corol. III. Every man who gratifies an appetite or passion, which has a manifest tendency to hurt his health, or shorten his life, is [though by a less sudden assault upon the life-principle] a real self-murderer. I mean, the man who luxuriates at his table, is too free with his bottle, and thereby brings on disease or distemper; or whether his lusts leads him into an illicit and empoisoned bodily commerce. This last species of debauchery is, among us, risen shamefully high, and disgracefully become as epidemical as the plaque….

Corol. IV. The shameful crime of DUELLING is another prevailing vicious practice; which reflects disgrace on the understanding of the man, and proves him deplorably unacquainted with self-government. The duellist is an atrocious violator of the law of his make. He tramples upon and subdues the first instinctive principle, with which his Maker has endowed him, viz. that of self-preservation. The proud, passionate man, will rather risk his own life, in his attempt to take away the life of another, than pass by an affront. And this he most stupidly fancies to be, and is not ashamed to call it, A PATH OF HONOUR! For, contrary to a fundamental law of civil society, he presumes upon being his own avenger. And though the matter of offence may have been nothing more than a breach of politeness, some little sally of the passion, or some mark of contempt; yet the blood-thirsty wretch will not be reconciled till he has fired his pistol, or with his sword lunged at the life of his fellow-man. Not any crime evinces more absurdity and stupidity than dueling does: for whoever he is that hazards his own life with a man who gave him offence, is a fool; and the very challenge he sent, proves that he is…

These several corollaries seem to have a free and unforced derivation from the fundamental proposition, namely, “That not any thing can be more unnatural, and argue a greater depravity of the human mind, than self-murder.”

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Filed under Christianity, Europe, Fleming, Caleb, Protestantism, Selections, Sexual Issues, Sin, The Early Modern Period

VOLTAIRE
(1694-1778)

from Philosophical Dictionary


 

In his 83 years, Voltaire compiled an enormous body of work: drama, satire, novels, poetry, histories, essays, philosophy, and letters by the thousands. He is known for his outspoken critiques of social injustice, superstition, and intolerance, pursued with characteristic wit and critical aptness.

Born François-Marie Arouet in Paris, Voltaire’s mother died when he was seven. He was educated by the Jesuits and directed toward a legal career by his pragmatic father, who disapproved of his son’s interest in drama and poetry. Voltaire quickly abandoned the study of law to pursue his literary aspirations. At 22, because of a political satire he had directed toward the ruling Duke of Orléans, Voltaire spent 11 months imprisoned in the Bastille, during which time he wrote Oedipe (1718), the first of some 50 tragedies, and an early version of his epic poem Henriade (1723)

In 1726, after being beaten and thrown into the Bastille for the second time, Voltaire was exiled to England at his own request. As a result of his positive experiences and growth in England, he wrote the Letters Concerning the English Nation (1733), which express his opposition to political and religious oppression and contain an implicit attack on French institutions. The next years, happy ones spent with his mistress Mme. du Châtelet in the study of science (particularly Newton, whom he and Mme. du Châtelet popularized), and history saw Voltaire embrace a philosophy of optimism, revealed in the Discourses in Verse on Man (1738–52). In 1750, Voltaire accepted the invitation of Frederick the Great to relocate to the Prussian court in Potsdam; however, Voltaire and Frederick’s friendship became strained, and Voltaire fled three years later. He eventually settled in Geneva.

As a result of the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, Voltaire’s philosophical outlook moved away from the optimistic belief that reason could reveal the secrets of nature. His attack on optimism culminated in Candide (1759), a masterpiece of dark comedy. In his later years, Voltaire published the Dictionnaire Philosophique (Philosophical Dictionary) (1764). He moved to Ferney, a quiet base from which he would continue his tireless defense of victims of injustice for the next 20 years. At the performance of his last tragedy Irène in Paris in 1778, he was celebrated as the greatest living Frenchman, the embodiment of the Age of Enlightenment, and as one of the most effective champions ever known of freedom, tolerance, and common sense.

In the entry “Cato” in his Philosophical Dictionary, Voltaire explores a variety of issues and examples concerning suicide, from the follies of the English to the apparent lack of “common sense” in the texts of the Quran [q.v.] prohibiting suicide; Voltaire’s much shorter entry “Suicide” partly duplicates the discussion. He is widely conversant with the previous literature on the topic of suicide. He cites a variety of examples of prominent English suicides and alludes to the claim that a propensity to suicide is hereditary, but concludes that suicide is largely a cultural phenomenon, a matter of fashion as much as anything. It is also associated with a lack of engagement: the remedy, he implies, is to have something to do. Voltaire also asserts both in this text and in similar comments on Beccaria’s [q.v.] An Essay on Crimes and Punishments chapter xix: Of Suicide, pp. 180–182 (Philadelphia 1809) that “the cannon law assures us, that Judas committed a greater crime in hanging himself, than in betraying Jesus Christ.”

SOURCES
William F. Fleming, ed. and tr., Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary. Paris, London, New York, Chicago: E. R. DuMont, 1901. Entry “Cato: On Suicide, and the Abbe St. Cyran’s Book Legitimating Suicide,” vol. III, pp. 19-33. Also available from the Online Library of Liberty.

from Philosophical Dictionary

Cato: On Suicide, and the Abbe St. Cyran’s Book Legitimating Suicide

The ingenious La Motte says of Cato, in one of his philosophical rather than poetical odes . . .

Stern Cato, with more equal soul,
Had bowed to Cæsar’s wide control—
With Rome had to the conqueror bowed—
But that his spirit, rough and proud,
Had not the courage to await
A pardoned foe’s too humbling fate.

It was, I believe, because Cato’s soul was always equal, and retained to the last its love for his country and her laws that he chose rather to perish with her than to crouch to the tyrant. He died as he had lived. Incapable of surrendering! And to whom? To the enemy of Rome—to the man who had forcibly robbed the public treasury in order to make war upon his fellow-citizens and enslave them by means of their own money. A pardoned foe! It seems as if La Motte-Houdart were speaking of some revolted subject who might have obtained his majesty’s pardon by letters in chancery.

It seems rather absurd to say that Cato slew himself through weakness. None but a strong mind can thus surmount the most powerful instinct of nature. This strength is sometimes that of frenzy, but a frantic man is not weak.

Suicide is forbidden amongst us by the canon law. But the decretals, which form the jurisprudence of a part of Europe, were unknown to Cato, to Brutus, to Cassius, to the sublime Arria, to the Emperor Otho, to Mark Antony, and the rest of the heroes of true Rome, who preferred a voluntary death to a life which they believed to be ignominious.

We, too, kill ourselves, but it is when we have lost our money, or in the very rare excess of foolish passion for an unworthy object. I have known women kill themselves for the most stupid men imaginable. And sometimes we kill ourselves when we are in bad health, which action is a real weakness.

Disgust with our own existence, weariness of ourselves is a malady which is likewise a cause of suicide. The remedy is a little exercise, music, hunting, the play, or an agreeable woman. The man who, in a fit of melancholy, kills himself to-day, would have wished to live had he waited a week.

I was almost an eye-witness of a suicide which deserves the attention of all cultivators of physical science. A man of a serious profession, of mature age, of regular conduct, without passions, and above indigence, killed himself on Oct. 17, 1769, and left to the town council of the place where he was born, a written apology for his voluntary death, which it was thought proper not to publish lest it should encourage men to quit a life of which so much ill is said. Thus far there is nothing extraordinary; such instances are almost every day to be met with. The astonishing part of the story is this:

His brother and his father had each killed himself at the same age. What secret disposition of organs, what sympathy, what concurrence of physical laws, occasions a father and his two sons to perish by their own hands, and by the same kind of death, precisely when they have attained such a year? Is it a disease which unfolds itself successively in the different members of a family—as we often see fathers and children die of smallpox, consumption, or any other complaint? Three or four generations have become deaf or blind, gouty or scorbutic, at a predetermined period.

Physical organization, of which moral is the offspring, transmits the same character from father to son through a succession of ages. The Appii were always haughty and inflexible, the Catos always severe. The whole line of the Guises were bold, rash, factious; compounded of the most insolent pride, and the most seductive politeness. From Francis de Guise to him who alone and in silence went and put himself at the head of the people of Naples, they were all, in figure, in courage, and in turn of mind, above ordinary men. I have seen whole length portraits of Francis de Guise, of the Balafré, and of his son: they are all six feet high, with the same features, the same courage and boldness in the forehead, the eye, and the attitude.

This continuity, this series of beings alike is still more observable in animals, and if as much care were taken to perpetuate fine races of men as some nations still take to prevent the mixing of the breeds of their horses and hounds the genealogy would be written in the countenance and displayed in the manners. There have been races of crooked and of six-fingered people, as we see red-haired, thick-lipped, long-nosed, and flat-nosed races. But that nature should so dispose the organs of a whole race that at a certain age each individual of that family will have a passion for self-destruction—this is a problem which all the sagacity of the most attentive anatomists cannot resolve. The effect is certainly all physical, but it belongs to occult physics. Indeed, what principle is not occult? We are not informed, nor is it likely that in the time of Cæsar and the emperors the inhabitants of Great Britain killed themselves as deliberately as they now do, when they have the vapors which they denominate the spleen.

On the other hand, the Romans, who never had the spleen, did not hesitate to put themselves to death. They reasoned, they were philosophers, and the people of the island of Britain were not so. Now, English citizens are philosophers and Roman citizens are nothing. The Englishman quits this life proudly and disdainfully when the whim takes him, but the Roman must have an indulgentia in articulo mortis; he can neither live nor die.

Sir William Temple says that a man should depart when he has no longer any pleasure in remaining. So died Atticus. Young women who hang and drown themselves for love should then listen to the voice of hope, for changes are as frequent in love as in other affairs.

An almost infallible means of saving yourself from the desire of self-destruction is always to have something to do. Creech, the commentator on Lucretius, marked upon his manuscripts: “N. B. Must hang myself when I have finished.” He kept his word with himself that he might have the pleasure of ending like his author. If he had undertaken a commentary upon Ovid he would have lived longer.

Why have we fewer suicides in the country than in the towns? Because in the fields only the body suffers; in the town it is the mind. The laborer has not time to be melancholy; none kill themselves but the idle—they who, in the eyes of the multitude, are so happy.

I shall here relate some suicides that have happened in my own time, several of which have already been published in other works. The dead may be made useful to the living:

A Brief Account of Some Singular Suicides

Philip Mordaunt, cousin-german to the celebrated earl of Peterborough—so well known in all the European courts, and who boasted of having seen more postillions and kings than any other man—was a young man of twenty-seven, handsome, well made, rich, of noble blood, with the highest pretensions, and, which was more than all, adored by his mistress, yet Mordaunt was seized with a disgust for life. He paid his debts, wrote to his friends, and even made some verses on the occasion. He dispatched himself with a pistol without having given any other reason than that his soul was tired of his body and that when we are dissatisfied with our abode we ought to quit it. It seemed that he wished to die because he was disgusted with his good fortune.

In 1726 Richard Smith exhibited a strange spectacle to the world from a very different cause. Richard Smith was disgusted with real misfortune. He had been rich, and he was poor; he had been in health, and he was infirm; he had a wife with whom he had naught but his misery to share; their only remaining property was a child in the cradle. Richard Smith and Bridget Smith, with common consent, having embraced each other tenderly and given their infant the last kiss began with killing the poor child, after which they hanged themselves to the posts of their bed.

I do not know any other act of cold-blooded horror so striking as this. But the letter which these unfortunate persons wrote to their cousin, Mr. Brindley, before their death, is as singular as their death itself. “We believe,” say they, “that God will forgive us. . . . . We quit this life because we are miserable—without resource, and we have done our only son the service of killing him, lest he should become as unfortunate as ourselves. . . . .” It must be observed that these people, after killing their son through parental tenderness, wrote to recommend their dog and cat to the care of a friend. It seems they thought it easier to make a cat and dog happy in this life than a child, and they would not be a burden to their friends.

Lord Scarborough quitted this life in 1727, with the same coolness as he had quitted his office of Master of the Horse. He was reproached, in the House of Peers, with taking the king’s part because he had a good place at court. “My lords,” said he, “to prove to you that my opinion is independent of my place, I resign it this moment.” He afterwards found himself in a perplexing dilemma between a mistress whom he loved, but to whom he had promised nothing, and a woman whom he esteemed, and to whom he had promised marriage. He killed himself to escape from his embarrassment.

These tragical stories which swarm in the English newspapers, have made the rest of Europe think that, in England, men kill themselves more willingly than elsewhere. However, I know not but there are as many madmen or heroes to be found in Paris as in London. Perhaps, if our newspapers kept an exact list of all who had been so infatuated as to seek their own destruction, and so lamentably courageous as to effect it, we should, in this particular, have the misfortune to rival the English. But our journals are more discreet. In such of them as are acknowledged by the government private occurrences are never exposed to public slander.

All I can venture to say with assurance is that there is no reason to apprehend that this rage for self-murder will ever become an epidemical disorder. Against this, nature has too well provided. Hope and fear are the powerful agents which she often employs to stay the hand of the unhappy individual about to strike at his own breast. Cardinal Dubois was once heard to say to himself: “Kill thyself! Coward, thou darest not!”

It is said that there have been countries in which a council was established to grant the citizens permission to kill themselves when they had good and sufficient reasons. I answer either that it was not so or that those magistrates had not much to do.

It might, indeed, astonish us, and does, I think, merit a serious examination, that almost all the ancient Roman heroes killed themselves when they had lost a battle in the civil wars. But I do not find, neither in the time of the League, nor in that of the Fronde, nor in the troubles of Italy, nor in those of England, that any chief thought proper to die by his own hand. These chiefs, it is true, were Christians, and there is a great difference between the principles of a Christian warrior and those of a Pagan hero. But why were these men whom Christianity restrained when they would have put themselves to death, restrained by nothing when they chose to poison, assassinate, and bring their conquered enemies to the scaffold? Does not the Christian religion forbid these murders much more than self-murder, of which the New Testament makes no mention?

The apostles of suicide tell us that it is quite allowable to quit one’s house when one is tired of it. Agreed, but most men would prefer sleeping in a mean house to lying in the open air.

I once received a circular letter from an Englishman, in which he offered a prize to any one who should most satisfactorily prove that there are occasions on which a man might kill himself. I made no answer: I had nothing to prove to him. He had only to examine whether he liked better to die than to live.

Another Englishman came to me at Paris in 1724; he was ill, and promised me that he would kill himself if he was not cured by July 20. He accordingly gave me his epitaph in these words: “Valete cura!” “Farewell care!” and gave me twenty-five louis to get a small monument erected to him at the end of the Faubourg St. Martin. I returned him his money on July 20, and kept his epitaph.

In my own time the last prince of the house of Courtenai, when very old, and the last branch of Lorraine-Harcourt, when very young, destroyed themselves almost without its being heard of. These occurrences cause a terrible uproar the first day, but when the property of the deceased has been divided they are no longer talked of.

The following most remarkable of all suicides has just occurred at Lyons, in June, 1770: A young man well known, who was handsome, well made, clever, and amiable, fell in love with a young woman whom her parents would not give to him. So far we have nothing more than the opening scene of a comedy, the astonishing tragedy is to follow.

The lover broke a blood-vessel and the surgeons informed him there was no remedy. His mistress engaged to meet him, with two pistols and two daggers in order that, if the pistols missed the daggers might the next moment pierce their hearts. They embraced each other for the last time: rose-colored ribbons were tied to the triggers of the pistols; the lover holding the ribbon of his mistress’s pistol, while she held the ribbon of his. Both fired at a signal given, and both fell at the same instant.

Of this fact the whole city of Lyons is witness. Pætus and Arria, you set the example, but you were condemned by a tyrant, while love alone immolated these two victims.

Laws Against Suicide

Has any law, civil or religious, ever forbidden a man to kill himself, on pain of being hanged after death, or on pain of being damned? It is true that Virgil has said…

The next in place, and punishment, are they
Who prodigally throw their souls away—
Fools, who repining at their wretched state,
And loathing anxious life, suborn their fate;
With late repentance now they would retrieve
The bodies they forsook, and wish to live;
Their pains and poverty desire to bear,
To view the light of heaven and breathe the vital air;—
But fate forbids, the Stygian floods oppose,
And, with nine circling streams, the captive souls inclose.

                                                —Aeneis, lib. vi. v. 434 et seq., tr. Dryden.

Such was the religion of some of the pagans, yet, notwithstanding the weariness which awaited them in the next world it was an honor to quit this by killing themselves—so contradictory are the ways of men. And among us is not duelling unfortunately still honorable, though forbidden by reason, by religion, and by every law? If Cato and Cæsar, Antony and Augustus, were not duellists it was not that they were less brave than our Frenchmen. If the duke of Montmorency, Marshal de Marillac, de Thou, Cinq-Mars, and so many others, chose rather to be dragged to execution in a wagon, like highwaymen, than to kill themselves like Cato and Brutus, it was not that they had less courage than those Romans, nor less of what is called honor. The true reason is that at Paris self-murder in such cases was not then the fashion; but it was the fashion at Rome.

The women of the Malabar coast throw themselves, living, on the funeral piles of their husbands. Have they, then, more courage than Cornelia? No; but in that country it is the custom for the wives to burn themselves.

In Japan it is the custom for a man of honor, when he has been insulted by another man of honor, to rip open his belly in the presence of his enemy and say to him: “Do you likewise if thou hast the heart.” The aggressor is dishonored for ever if he does not immediately plunge a great knife into his belly.

The only religion in which suicide is forbidden by a clear and positive law is Mahometanism. In the fourth sura it is said: “Do not kill yourself, for God is merciful unto you, and whosoever killeth himself through malice and wickedness shall assuredly be burned in hell fire.”

This is a literal translation. The text, like many other texts, appears to want common sense. What is meant by “Do not kill yourself for God is merciful”? Perhaps we are to understand—Do not sink under your misfortunes, which God may alleviate: do not be so foolish as to kill yourself to-day since you may be happy to-morrow.

“And whosoever killeth himself through malice and wickedness.” This is yet more difficult to explain. Perhaps, in all antiquity, this never happened to any one but the Phrædra of Euripides, who hanged herself on purpose to make Theseus believe that she had been forcibly violated by Hippolytus. In our own times a man shot himself in the head, after arranging all things to make another man suspected of the act.

In the play of George Dandin, his jade of a wife threatens him with killing herself to have him hanged. Such cases are rare. If Mahomet foresaw them he may be said to have seen a great way. The famous Duverger de Haurane, abbot of St. Cyran, regarded as the founder of Port Royal, wrote, about the year 1608, a treatise on “Suicide,” which has become one of the scarcest books in Europe.

“The Decalogue,” says he, “forbids us to kill. In this precept self-murder seems no less to be comprised than murder of our neighbor. But if there are cases in which it is allowable to kill our neighbor there likewise are cases in which it is allowable to kill ourselves.

“We must not make an attempt upon our lives until we have consulted reason. The public authority, which holds the place of God, may dispose of our lives. The reason of man may likewise hold the place of the reason of God: it is a ray of the eternal light.”

St. Cyran extends this argument, which may be considered as a mere sophism, to great length, but when he comes to the explanation and the details it is more difficult to answer him. He says: “A man may kill himself for the good of his prince, for that of his country, or for that of his relations.”

We do not, indeed, see how Codrus or Curtius could be condemned. No sovereign would dare to punish the family of a man who had devoted himself to death for him; nay, there is not one who would dare neglect to recompense it. St. Thomas, before St. Cyran, had said the same thing. But we need neither St. Thomas, nor Cardinal Bonaventura, nor Duverger de Haurane to tell us that a man who dies for his country is deserving of praise.

The abbot of St. Cyran concludes that it is allowable to do for ourselves what it is noble to do for others. All that is advanced by Plutarch, by Seneca, by Montaigne, and by fifty other philosophers, in favor of suicide is sufficiently known; it is a hackneyed topic—a wornout commonplace. I seek not to apologize for an act which the laws condemn, but neither the Old Testament, nor the New has ever forbidden man to depart this life when it has become insupportable to him. No Roman law condemned self-murder; on the contrary, the following was the law of the Emperor Antoine, which was never revoked:

“If your father or your brother not being accused of any crime kill himself, either to escape from grief, or through weariness of life, or through despair, or through mental derangement, his will shall be valid, or, if he die intestate his heirs shall succeed.”

Notwithstanding this humane law of our masters we still drag on a sledge and drive a stake through the body of a man who has died a voluntary death; we do all we can to make his memory infamous; we dishonor his family as far as we are able; we punish the son for having lost his father, and the widow for being deprived of her husband.

We even confiscate the property of the deceased, which is robbing the living of the patrimony which of right belongs to them. This custom is derived from our canon law, which deprives of Christian burial such as die a voluntary death. Hence it is concluded that we cannot inherit from a man who is judged to have no inheritance in heaven. The canon law, under the head “De Pœnitentia,” assures us that Judas committed a greater crime in strangling himself than in selling our Lord Jesus Christ.

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MONTESQUIEU
(1689-1755)

from The Persian Letters
from Consideration of the Causes of the    Greatness of the Romans and Their    Decline
from The Spirit of Laws


 

Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de la Bréde et de la Montesquieu, was a French political and social philosopher, jurist, satirist, and the first of the great French men of letters of the Enlightenment. Born at La Bréde near Bordeaux, Montesquieu was reared until the age of three by a peasant family, like Montaigne [q.v.], in order that he might acquire an understanding of the lower classes. In 1696, his mother died, leaving him the barony of La Bréde at age seven. He left for school in 1700, attending the Collège de Juilly and later the University of Bordeaux, where he studied law to become an advocate in 1708. In 1716, his uncle Jean-Baptiste died, leaving him the barony of Montesquieu and the deputy presidency of the Bordeaux Parliament, a position of some honor. In 1721, he published The Persian Letters, a satire of European (French) customs and society that made him famous.

After 10 years of service, Montesquieu sold his political office and, in 1728, left for a three-year tour of Europe and England that had a great effect on his political and aesthetic sensibilities. By 1734, he finished his Consideration of the Causes of the Greatness of the Romans and Their Decline. In this work, which exhibits his uniquely secular approach to history, Montesquieu argued that Rome’s greatness was due to its adaptable institutions and martial values. In 1748, he published anonymously his best-known work, The Spirit of the Laws, a major and influential work of political theory. This work, among other things, outlined a classification of the different types of government—its notion of a separation of governmental powers, which Montesquieu derived from his observations of English government, influenced the Constitution of the United States—and examined the fundamental relationships that underlie the laws of a civilized society. Montesquieu declared history as the basis for human activity and viewed religion as a social phenomenon rather than an underlying force. In this respect, Montesquieu sought to establish a social science of man comparable to the natural sciences. He was committed to liberty as the key ingredient in a well-functioning civil society.

In The Persian Letters, Montesquieu employs a character drawn from a different society to criticize the usual arguments used against suicide in the Christian European west. In Considerations of the Causes of the Greatness of the Romans and Their Decline, he addresses self-love and altruism, in effect lamenting the suicide of Cato; and in the brief passage provided here from The Spirit of the Laws, he differentiates between the “educated” socially conditioned, principled suicides of the Roman Stoics and the “unaccountable” suicides of the English, attributable primarily to mental illness.

SOURCES
Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de la Bréde et de la Montesquieu: The Persian Letters, Letter 76, tr. C. J. Betts. Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin, 1973. Considerations of the Causes of the Greatness of the Romans and Their Decline, Ch. XII, pp. 113-118, tr. David Lowenthal. New York: Free Press, 1965. Available from the Constitution Society. The Spirit of the Laws, Book XIV, Ch. 12, p. 107, Great Books of the Western World, vol. 38, tr. Thomas Nugent and revised by J. V. Prichard. Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, 1952. Available from the Constitution Society.

from THE PERSIAN LETTERS

Letter 76: Usbek to his friend Ibben, at Smyrna

In Europe the law treats suicides with the utmost ferocity.  They are put to death for a second time, so to speak; their bodies are dragged in disgrace through the streets and branded, to denote infamy, and their goods are confiscated.

It seems to me, Ibben, that these laws are very unjust.  When I am overcome by anguish, poverty, or humiliation, why must I be prevented from putting an end to my troubles, and harshly deprived of the remedy which lies in my power?

Why am I required to work for a society from which I consent to be excluded, and to submit against my will to a convention which was made without my participation?  Society is based on mutual advantage, but when I find it onerous what is to prevent me renouncing it?  Life was given to me as favour, so I may abandon it when it is one no longer; when the cause disappears, the effect should disappear also.

Would the king want me to be subject to him when I derive no advantages from being a subject?  Can my fellow-citizens be so unfair as to drive me to despair for their conveniences?  Is God to be different from every other benefactor, and is it his will that I should be condemned to accept favours which make me wretched?

I am obliged to obey the law so long as I continue to live under its authority, but when I no longer do so does it still apply to me?

But, it will be said, you are disturbing the providential order.  God united your soul to your body, and you are separating them; you are therefore going against his intentions, and resisting him.

What does that imply?  Am I disturbing the order of Providence when I modify the arrangement of matter and turn a sphere into a cube, when it had been given its spherical shape by the first laws of motion, that is to say the laws of creation and conservation?  Of courts not: I am merely exercising a right which I have been given; and in this sense I could disrupt the whole of nature at will, and it would be impossible to say that I am opposing Providence.

When my soul is separated from my body, will the universe be less orderly or less well arranged?  Do you believe that the new synthesis will be less perfect, or less dependent on general laws, or that the world will have lost anything by it?  The works of God will be any the less great, or rather less immense?  When my body has been turned into a grain of wheat, or a worm, or a piece of turf, do you think that these products of nature are less worthy of her?  Or that when my soul has been purged of every terrestrial ingredient it will be less exalted?

All such ideas, my dear Ibben, originate in our pride alone.  We do not realize our littleness, and in spite of everything we want to count for something in the universe, play a part, be a person of importance.  We imagine that the annihilation of a being as perfect as ourselves would detract from nature as a whole, and we cannot conceive that one man more or less in the world, and indeed the whole of mankind a hundred million heads like ours, are only a minute, intangible speck, which God perceives simply because of the immensity of his knowledge.

From Paris, the 15th of the moon of Saphar, 1715

from CONSIDERATION OF THE CAUSES OF THE GREATNESS OF THE ROMANS AND THEIR DECLINE

. . .Almost all ventures are spoiled by the fact that those who undertake them usually seek—in addition to the main objective—certain small, personal successes which flatter their self-love and give them self-satisfaction.

I believe that if Cato had preserved himself for the republic, he would have given a completely different turn to events. Cicero’s talents admirably suited him for a secondary role, but he was not fit for the main one. His genius was superb, but his soul was often common. With Cicero, virtue was the accessory, with Cato, glory. Cicero always thought of himself first, Cato always forgot about himself. The latter wanted to save the republic for its own sake, the former in order to boast of it. . . .

Brutus and Cassius killed themselves with inexcusable precipitation, and we cannot read this chapter in their lives without pitying the republic which was thus abandoned. Cato had killed himself at the end of the tragedy; these began it, in a sense, by their death.

Several reasons can be given for this practice of committing suicide that was so common among the Romans: the advances of the Stoic sect, which encouraged it; the establishment of triumphs and slavery, which made many great men think they must not survive a defeat; the advantage those accused of some crime gained by bringing death upon themselves, rather than submitting to a judgment whereby their memory would be tarnished and their property confiscated; a kind of point of honor, more reasonable, perhaps, than that which today leads us to slaughter our friend for a gesture or word; finally, a great opportunity for heroism, each man putting an end to the part he played in the world wherever he wished.

We could add to these a great facility in executing the deed. When the soul is completely occupied with the action it is about to perform, with the motive determining it, with the peril it is going to avoid, it does not really see death, for passion makes us feel but never see.

Self-love, the love of our own preservation, is transformed in so many ways, and acts by such contrary principles, that it leads us to sacrifice our being for the love of our being. And such is the value we set on ourselves that we consent to cease living because of a natural and obscure instinct that makes us love ourselves more than our very life.  It is certain that men have become less free, less courageous, less disposed to great enterprises than they were when, by means of this power which one assumed, one could at any moment escape from every other power.

from THE SPIRIT OF LAWS

Of the Laws against Suicides. We do not find in history that the Romans ever killed themselves without a cause; but the English are apt to commit suicide most unaccountably; they destroy themselves even in the bosom of happiness. This action among the Romans was the effect of education, being connected with their principles and customs; among the English it is the consequence of a distemper, being connected with the physical state of the machine, and independent of every other cause.

In all probability it is a defect of the filtration of the nervous juice: the machine, whose motive faculties are often unexerted, is weary of itself; the soul feels no pain, but a certain uneasiness in existing. Pain is a local sensation, which leads us to the desire of seeing an end of it; the burden of life, which prompts us to the desire of ceasing to exist, is an evil confined to no particular part.

It is evident that the civil laws of some countries may have reasons for branding suicide with infamy: but in England it cannot be punished without punishing the effects of madness.

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ISAAC WATTS
(1674-1748)

from A Defense Against the Temptation to Self-Murder


 

Isaac Watts, regarded as the father of English hymnody, was born in Southampton, England, and studied at the Dissenting Academy at Stoke Newington, now inside London, until 1694. He then became a family tutor to Sir John Hartopp; Watts’ rise to prominence as a preacher began with his sermons at Hartopp’s family chapel in Freeby, Leicestershire, and cumulated in his appointment as a full pastor at the Mark Lane Independent (i.e., Congregational) Chapel, London, in 1702. Here he wrote many now-famous Protestant hymns, including “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” and “There is a Land of Pure Delight.” His hymns and psalms are published in the collections Horae Lyricae (1706), Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1707) and Psalms of David Imitated in the Language of the New Testament (1719). Due to a breakdown in health, in 1712 he went to spend a week in Hertfordshire with Sir Thomas Abney, with whose family he would live for the rest of his life. Toward the end of his life Watts dedicated more time to writing, eventually publishing his influential work Logic, or the Right Use of Reason in the Enquiry After Truth (1724).

In A Defense Against the Temptation to Self-Murther (1726), Watts discusses the “folly and danger” of suicide. The piece is a vehement exhortation in the form of a direct address to anyone who might be tempted to suicide, and it attempts to dissuade the suicidal person with both religious and social arguments. It would mean permanent damnation, Watts insists, from which there could be no repentance; it would mean shame, as evidenced by the disgrace of burial at the crossroads; and it would mean shame for one’s family as well. Among the “dissuasions” Watts employs is an appeal to concern for others: “If it be so hard to you to bear a little poverty, shame, sorrow, reproach, etc. that you will die rather than bear it, why will you entail these on your kindred and on those who love you best?”

Source

Isaac Watts, A Defense Against the Temptation to Self-Murther, London: Printed for J. Clark, R. Hett, E. Matthews, and R. Ford, 1726.

from A DEFENSE AGAINST THE TEMPTATION TO SELF-MURTHER

Some General Dissuasions from Self-Murther, by shewing the Folly and Danger of it.

WHEN this bloody practice has been proved to be highly criminal in the sight of God, we can hardly suppose that any other considerations should be more effectual to deter a man who professes Christianity from the guilt of so aggravated a sin: yet it may be possible to set the dangerous and dreadful consequences of this practice in a fuller view, a more diffusive and affecting light: for if you turn it on all sides it has still some new appearances of terror, and furnishes out new dissuasives from the execution of it.

I.  Consider that ‘tis too dangerous an attempt to venture upon it unless you had a full assurance of its lawfulness. Now suppose the power of your own iniquities, the artifices of the Tempter, and the prevailing ill humours of animal nature should join together so fatally as to blind your eyes against the full conviction of its sinfulness, yet you can never prove that self-murther is certainly a lawful thing. The furthest you can go is to suppose that possibly it may be lawful; but on the other hand, if you should be under a mistake, ‘tis a dreadful, ‘tis a fatal, ‘tis an eternal one. You put your self beyond all possibility of rectifying this error through all the long ages of futurity.

Whatsoever vain fancies some of the heathens have indulg’d who knew not God, and had very little and dark apprehensions of a future state, yet in the Christian world the utmost that the most sanguine or most melancholy among this tribe can well pretend is, that perhaps it may be Lawful, or at least that it is a little and a very pardonable crime, (and they have been forced to wink their eyes against the light to arrive at this perhaps). But if it be not pardonable, then nothing remains for the criminal but everlasting punishment. That terrible word eternal, eternal, eternal misery, carries such a long doleful accent with it, and includes such an immense train of agonies without hope, that it is infinitely better to bear the sorrows, the trials and uneasiness of this life for a few short and uncertain years, than rashly to venture upon such a practice, whose pretended and doubtful advantages bear no proportion at all to the infinite and extreme hazard of an endless state of torment.

II.  Suppose you could by any false reasonings persuade your consciences that the act of self-destruction was no sin, yet are you so sure of the present goodness of your state towards God, and that all your other sins are pardoned, that you could plunge your self this moment into eternity?  ‘Tis generally under a fit of impatience that persons are tempted to destroy themselves; now is the present frame and temper of your soul such as is fit to appear in before the great tribunal of heaven?  You well know that as the tree falls so it must lie, to the north or to the south, Eccl. xi. 3.  After death judgment immediately succeeds, Heb. ix. 27.  There is no faith and repentance in the grave, nor pardoning grace to be implored when the state of trial is past, Eccl. ix. 10.  Isa. xxxviii. 18.  They that go down to the pit cannot hope for thy truth.  Are you now so sure of your creator’s love, and of your perfect conformity to his laws of judgment?  Are you so holy, so innocent, so righteous in your self, or so certain of your interest in the merits of a mediator, that you dare rush this moment before the bar of a great and terrible God, and tell him that you are come to have your state determined for all everlasting? If not, be wise and bethink yourself a little: use and improve the delay and opportunity which his grace and providence offer you in this life, for a more effectual securing a better life hereafter.

But if we go a little farther and suppose the action in it self to be criminal, then remember that you send your self out of this world with the guilt of a wilful criminal action on your conscience; you preclude your own repentance of this sin in this world, and the other world knows no repentance that is available to any good purpose. You shoot your self headlong into an eternal state; and are you sure that you shall never repent of it in the long future ages of your existence? But, alas! all that repentance comes too late to relieve you from the dismal effects of your rashness. All the repentance of that invisible world is but the sting of conscience which will add exquisite pain to your appointed punishment. Surely you should have the most evident and undeniable proofs of the goodness of that action which can never be revers’d, and which puts you for ever beyond the possibility of useful repentance.

Give me leave to add in this place what is the constant doctrine of the Bible and the sense of Christians, (viz.) that a wilful sinner dying impenitent cannot be sav’d.  Now if there be no space given for serious reflection and penitence in the case of a self-murtherer, what room is there for hope hereafter? except only where the persons really distracted, and the Great God our Judge knows how to distinguish exactly how far every action is influenced by bodily distempers.  This is the only hope of surviving friends.

III.  Think yet again, what an odium, what scandal and everlasting shame you bring upon your name and character by such a fact.  ‘Tis a reproach that spreads wide among the kindred of the self-murtherer; it descends to his posterity and follows him thro’ many generations.

It may be observed also that in the Rubrick of the Church of England before the burial service, self-murtherers are ranked with excommunicated persons: The church has no hope of them as true Christians: And as the church denies them Christian burial, so the civil government did heretofore appoint that they should be put into the earth with the utmost contempt; and this was generally done in some publick cross-way, that the shame and infamy might be made known to every passenger; and that this infamy might be lasting, they were ordained to have a stake driven through their dead bodies which was not to be removed. ‘Tis pity this practice has been omitted of late years by the too favourable sentence of their neighbors on the jury, who generally pronounce them distracted: And thus they are excused from this publick mark of abhorrence. Perhaps ‘twere much better if this practice were revived again; for since the laws of men cannot punish their persons, therefore their dead bodies should be expos’d to just and deserved shame, that so this iniquity might be laid under all the odium that human power and law can cast upon it, to testify a just abhorrence of the fact, and to deter survivors from the like practice.

IV.  Can any man of a generous or kind disposition think of all the mischief done to his friends and kindred by the destruction of himself, and yet practice it? Think of the publick scandal and disgrace that it spreads over the whole family; think of the shame and inward anguish of spirit that it necessarily gives to surviving friends and relatives; what sorrow of heart for the loss of a father, or mother or brother, a sister, a daughter, or a son in such a sudden, such a dreadful, and such a shameful manner of death? What terrible perplexity of spirit what inconsolable vexation of mind, what fears of eternal misery for the soul of the deceas’d? This gives them a wound beyond what they are able to bear, and sometimes wears out their life in sorrow, and brings them down to the grave. One would think that the injury done to friends and dear relations would be a sufficient bar against it, to souls who have any sense of justice, or any pretence to goodness and love. If it be so hard for you to bear a little poverty, shame, sorrow, reproach, &c. that you will die rather than bear it, why will you entail these on your kindred and on those who love you best?

In order to work upon persons that have any compassion for their surviving kindred, ‘tis fit they should know also that the English Law calls a Self-Murtherer, felo de se, or a felon to himself, and upon this account the estate and effects of the deceased are forfeited by law and cannot descend to the relatives, unless it appear that the person who laid violent hand upon himself was distracted. Now in this case Bishop Fleetwood finds fault severely with juries who now a days bring in almost all self-murtherers distracted, and he desires them to consider “Whether the constant mitigation of the rigours of the law against self-murtherers mayn’t give some encouragement to that practice and whether the favourable verdict they bring in, be always so righteous and so seasonable as they imagine? And since the wisdom of the law intends that the confiscation of estates, the undoing a family, and the shameful burial shall deter them from these horrible attempts, whether the mercy that defeats all these intentions be not more likely to continue than to repress these cruel violences? Were a person sure that his estate would be forfeited, and his effects carried away from his wife, children and family, were he sure that his dead body should be publickly expos’d, bury’d in the high-way, and with a stake driven through it as a mark of huge infamy, perhaps he would give way to calmer counsels, and be content to bear a little shame, or pain, or loss, till God saw fit to put an end to all his sufferings by natural means: And therefore an instance or two of such severity as is legal, well and wisely chosen, might prove a greater preservative against these violences, than such a constant and expected mercy, as we always find on these occasions: For men have now no fear of laws; and when they have laid aside the fear of God, they go about this business with great readiness, they are sure of favour in this world, and they will venture the other.”

V.  Think in the last place how fatal an influence your example may have to bring death and ruin on others, and that on their immortal souls as well as their mortal life. Remember what an effect the self-murther of Saul had, when his armour bearer followed him, and dy’d also by his own sword. And oftentimes where self-murther is practiced, it fills the heads of other melancholy and uneasy persons with the same bloody thoughts, and teaches them to enter into the same temptation. Think then with yourself, “What if I should not only destroy my own soul forever, but become the dreadful occasion of others destroying their souls, and flinging themselves into the same place of torture? What sharp accents will this add to my anguish of conscience, in hell, that I have led others into the same wretchedness without remedy, without hope, and without end?” Think and enquire whether every self-murtherer who may be influenced hereafter by your example to this impious fact, may not be sent particularly to visit your ghost in those invisible regions, and become a new tormentor. Whether all such future events may not be turn’d by the just judgment of God to encrease your agonies and horrors of soul in that world of despair and misery.

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Filed under Christianity, Europe, Protestantism, Selections, Sin, The Early Modern Period, Watts, Isaac

COTTON MATHER
(1663-1728)

from Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions


 

Cotton Mather, son of Increase Mather [q.v.], was born in Boston, graduated from Harvard in 1678, and was ordained in 1685 in the Congregational Church. He assisted and then succeeded his father in the Second Church pastorate, Boston. Although he countenanced the Salem witchcraft trials and executions (1692-93), he did not directly participate in them; he did however have a hand in choosing some of the Salem judges and wrote to them during the trial, urging the rejection of spectral evidence (testimony of attacks by the specters of people otherwise known to the victim) and the merciful treatment of those who confessed (his counsel in each case was rejected). Then, having tried to be a moderating influence on the trials, he damaged his own reputation by writing Wonders of the Invisible World (1693), condemning the excesses of the trials but defending several of the trials’ resulting convictions. Cotton’s book was published at the same time as Increase’s attack on the use of spectral evidence in the Salem trials, Cases of Conscience. Even though Increase was different in his assessment of the witch trials, Increase is said to have publicly burned Robert Calef’s More Wonders of the Invisible World in Harvard Yard, a book attacking Cotton’s book.

Cotton Mather’s discussion of suicide is distinctive in its quasi-medical character. He is particularly concerned with the etiology of suicidal acts; once suicidal ideation begins, it is intensified and taken advantage of by the intervention of devils (hence the title, “A Discourse on the Power and Malice of the Devils”). Nevertheless, it is possible to take steps to avoid this. In what may seem to modern readers to anticipate the role of psychiatric intervention, Mather emphasizes the importance for the potential victim of suicide of not keeping silent and of speaking with friends, physicians, and neighbors about feelings of guilt, sin, and what would now be identified as depression.

SOURCE

Cotton Mather, Memorable providences, relating to witchcrafts and possessions. : A faithful account of many wonderful and surprising things, that have befallen several bewitched and possessed persons in New-England. Particularly, a narrative of the marvellous trouble and releef experienced by a pious family in Boston, very lately and sadly molested with evil spirits. : Whereunto is added, a discourse delivered unto a congregation in Boston, on the occasion of that illustrious providence. : As also a discourse delivered unto the same congregation; on the occasion of an horrible self-murder committed in that town. : With an appendix, in vindication of a chapter in a late book of remarkable providences, from the calumnies of a Quaker at Pen-silvania. Boston: Richard Pierce, 1689. Material in introductory passage from Stephen Latham.

Facsimile available online from the Yale University Library.

from MEMORABLE PROVIDENCES RELATING TO WITCHCRAFTS AND POSSESSIONS

Temptations to Self-Murder, may likewise be fierce upon some unhappy people here. Tis almost unaccountable, that at some times in some places here, melancholy distempered Ragings toward Self-Murder, have been in a manner Epidemical. And it would make ones hair stand, to see or hear what manifest Assistence the Devils have given to these unnatural Self-executions when once they have been begun. Tis too evident, that persons are commonly bewitch’t or possess’t into these unreasonable Phrensies. But What shall these hurried people do?

My Advice is,

Don’t Conceal, much less Obey the motions of your Adversary. Failing in this, made a poor man, after a faithful Sermon in a Neighbouring Town, presently to drown himself in a pit that had not two foot of Water in it.  If you will not Keep, that is the way not to Take the Devil’s Counsel. Let not him Tie your Tongues, and it is likely he will not gain your Souls. Complain to a good God of the Dangers in which you find your selves; cry to Him, Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me. Complain also to a wise Friend. Let some prudent and faithful Neighbour understand your Circumstances: Tis possible you may thereby escape the Snares with which the cruel Fowlers of Hell hope to trapan you into their dismal Clutches for evermore. Your Neighbours may do much for you; and may prove your Keepers if God shall please. It may be the unkindness of some Friend, may have thrown you into your present Madness. Now the Kindness of some Friend may prove the Antidote. Many times, a Natural Distemper, is that by which the Devil takes advantage to get the souls of Self-Destroyers into his bloody hands. In this case, for the tempted persons to disclose their Griefs, will be the way to obtain their cures. Their Neighbours ought now to consult a skilful Physician for them; and oblige, yea, constrain them to follow his Directions. When the Humours on and by which the Devil works, are taken away, perhaps he may be starved out of doors. Many times, again, The sin of Slothfulness gives the Devil opportunity to procure the Self-Destruction of the sluggard. In this case too, the Tempted person may be succoured by the standers-by becoming sensible of their Circumstances. Their Neighbours may now compel them to follow their business. A Calling, the Business of a Calling, is an Ordinance of God, sanctified by Him to deliver us from the evil spirits that enter into the empty house,

But most times, There may be some old and great Sin unrepented of, where Temptations to Self-Murder have a violence hardly to be withstood,  There was once a man among us, who in the horrours of Despair, uttered many dreadful speeches against himself, and would often particularly say, I am all on a light Fire under the wrath of God!  This man yet never confessed any unusual sin, but this; that having gotten about Forty pounds by his Labour, he had spent it in wicked Company:  But in his Anguish of spirit he hanged himself.  There was once a woman among us, who under Sickness had made vowes of a New Life; but apprehending some defects in her conversation afterward, she fell into the distraction wherein she also hanged herself.  And the Sin of Adultery and Drunkenness has more than once issued in such a destructive Desperation.  In case of this or any such Guilt, Confession with Repentance affords a present Remedy.  To fly from Soul-Terrour by Self-Murder, is to leap out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.  Poor tempted People, I must like Paul in prison, cry with a loud voice unto you, Do your selves no harm; all may be well yet, if you will hearken to the Counsels of the Lord.

Now, Do thou, O God of peace, bruise Satan under our Feet. World without end, Amen.

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Filed under Americas, Christianity, Devil, Mather, Cotton, Protestantism, Selections, The Early Modern Period

JOHN ADAMS
(1662-1720)

from An Essay Concerning Self-Murther


Born in London, the son of a Lisbon merchant, John Adams was educated at Eton and at King’s College, Cambridge, earning bachelor’s, master’s, and divinity degrees. He traveled to France, Italy, Spain, and Ireland. In 1687, he was appointed to the parish of Higham in Leicestershire. In London, he was lecturer of St. Clement’s, rector of St. Alban, on Wood Street, and rector of St. Bartholomew. He was also made prebendary of Canterbury, and in 1708, became canon of Windsor. He served as chaplain to William III and also to Queen Anne. In 1712, he was elected provost of King’s College, a post that he held until his death.

Adams was recognized as an eloquent preacher and accomplished linguist, and he often spoke on public occasions. At least 15 of his sermons were published during his life. The selection here is taken from An Essay Concerning Self-Murther (1700). Here, Adams bases his argument against self-murder, or suicide, on obligations and duties persons have as members of civil society. For if suicide were condoned and the proper authority given to those who would take their own lives, it must be universally so; and that, to Adams, would cause a severe weakening of civil society. Further, Adams also considers the difference between putting oneself at great risk and self-murder, concluding that only the former is justified because, if death results, it was not the intent of the act, but only a foreseen consequence. Reminiscent of Aquinas’s argument that murder in self-defense is justifiable as long as it is not intended, Adams’s consideration of double effect applies specifically to actions that may result in one’s own death.

SOURCE

John Adams, An Essay Concerning Self-Murther wherein is endeavour’d to prove that it is unlawful according to natural principles: with some considerations upon what is pretended from the said principles, by the author of a treatise intituled, Biathanatos, and others. London: Printed for Tho. Bennet, at the Half-Moon, in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1700, pp. 23-30, 94-130, spelling modernized.

from AN ESSAY CONCERNING SELF-MURTHER

CHAP. III. Man Considered as a Member of Civil Society. Self-Murther proved by several Argument’s to be Destructive to Civil Society; from which, and what was said before, concluded to be an Act of the greatest Injustice and therefore unlawful.

Hitherto we have considered Man as Single and Independent from Humane Laws, and showed that as he is so, Self-Murther is an Act of Injustice towards God, by destroying that which is his alone; and also both towards God and towards a Mans own self, by the positive and willful refusal of performing that end for which he received Life, and in which his happiness truly consists. Let us in the next place, for a further confirmation of the unlawfulness of this Act, consider Man as a Member of Civil Society.

And this we ought to do with the greater attention, because, though it may be convenient in some respects to consider him in the individual, and in the state of Nature, yet this is only Notional; he cannot be so as to any part of the World which we have to do withal, nor can he be so at any time but to his great Misfortune, for as ’tis necessary for his Security, that he should be under some Government, so is it likewise necessary, for the Perfection of his Nature: for his having a larger and a nobler compass for his Reason and his Virtue; there being several Virtues which cannot be exercised by Man when alone, but which owe their being to Society.

If then we consider Man in this manner, his Obligations to preserve Life are still more; both as the end of Life is enlarged, (the good of others, as well as his own being concerned in it) and as he has then less to do with his Life, (the use of it being more at others disposal) than when he was considered in the state of Nature: Because he has not then the same Authority to defend himself which he had before, but is bound in most Cases to have recourse to the Magistrate for this purpose. Besides, by enjoying the benefit of Protection in any Government, he must be supposed either tacitly or expressly to have consented in a mutual Agreement of Offence and Defense for the maintaining of the same Protection; which being chiefly for the preservation of Life, as Self-Murther must be unlawful, so it must be absurd. But that which is most considerable and sufficient of it self to prove Self-Murther to be unlawful, is, that this may prove destructive to the very Being of Society, as will appear if we consider the Reasons following.

1. Because this wholly destroys the best Measure of mutual Kindness and Justice, that which is generally confessed to be one of the chiefest and plainest Laws of Nature; namely the doing to others as we would be done to our selves: The greatest injury that can be done to another is the Murthering of him; now if a Man has the liberty to Murther himself, the measure of Justice in the most important Concerns towards others is broken; nor can it signify any thing to say, that this is done out of love to ones self, because it may be pretended that it may be done out of love to another too, yet no one sure will ever allow this as a reasonable pretence for the Murther of his Neighbor.

2. This would utterly destroy the force of Humane Laws; Man’s having a right or power to kill himself, when he thinks fitting, would make void all Obligation to Humane Laws, as to the threats of Punishment, without a dread of which no Law would signify any thing: The greatest Punishment that Humane Laws can threaten is Death; now if Men have Authority to kill themselves, and be taught and persuaded that they have so, and be encouraged by the Examples of others, which will not be wanting, when Men are so persuaded; the threats of Death will be despised as to the disgrace or torment of it when public, because they may bring it upon themselves with ease and privacy at home, and therefore they will not be obliged to any Duty, by the fear of this, much less by the fear of any thing else; but would Rob, Ravish, Murther, &c.

3. Whatever the Reasons are, in relation to Civil Society, for which the Murther of another is forbidden; the same hold and perhaps with greater force, as to the Murthering of ones self; those Reasons are chiefly the having no Authority, the depriving the Public of a Subject, the impossibility of making any Equivalent Satisfaction. The two first of these are of the same force as to the Murthering of ones self, the third seems to be of much greater; for he that Murthers another may make some satisfaction as to public Justice, by the forfeiture of his own Life, and he that forfeits his Life publicly upon this Account makes some amends to the State, under which he lives, by deterring others from committing the same Crime by the Example of his Punishment; whereas on the contrary, he that Murthers himself, not only evades all satisfaction to the Public as to the paying Personal and Sensible Punishment; but in so doing gives encouragement to others to commit the same: Wherefore Self-Murther may be a greater Crime in regard of the Public, especially if it be a public Person, than the Murthering of another Man; and if so is undoubtedly forbidden by that Law of Nature, Thou shalt not kill: otherwise that Law would be very imperfect, and reach only to the lesser Crime, and permit the greater.

Lastly, For a Man to have a right to kill himself when ever he pleases, must be destructive to Civil Government; because this Right must be Universal: One Man may exercise it as well as another; and since no public rule can be given to show when, in what circumstances of Adversity, (which are more or less felt by different Men, according to their different Portions of Reason or Virtue, their Courage or Constitution) since, I say, no public rule can be given to all Men to prescribe the Case exactly wherein it shall be reasonable and lawful to put this Right in Execution; every Man must be left to judge for himself, that is, to be led as his own Passions or Appetites guide him. After this rate great numbers may make themselves away, which by Example and Custom may grow still greater and greater, till the Public is weakened not only by the loss of several of its Members, but also by the check and stop which there must be upon all Business, and Trade, Trust in one another; since the strictest Obligations to this purpose may be thus evaded.

Add to this the misery of the Family particularly concerned, the horrid sense which such an Act imprints upon the best Men’s Minds, the general Aversion which it causes, and consequently the shame of the Relations and Acquaintance of the Self-Murtherer, and very often too the Confusion and Desolation of the forsaken Widow or Orphans; all which must be of ill Consequence to any State, especially if the Fact is frequently committed.

But lest this should give any color for the plausible pretence of Compassion which is commonly made use of by those who are concerned in the Coroner’s Inquest upon such Occasions, I cannot but observe by the way, that all Kindness or Generosity towards particular Persons, though they be nearest Relations, is unwarrantable, which is prejudicial to that Love and Duty which is owing to the Public, especially when People are actually entrusted by the Public, and sworn to report impartially, without being moved by any Passion whatsoever, what their judgment is concerning a matter of Fact. It may be as injurious to our Country to elude the Design of a Law out of Pity as out of Revenge; and as to Perjury, if we consider it in it self, ’tis as absurd to be guilty of it through Generosity as Bribery, though it may too justly be suspected, that in these Cases the latter generally has a greater Influence than the former. But of this more hereafter.

These are the Reasons which make me conclude that Self-Murther is unlawful, if Man be considered as a Member of any Civil State; which are all of them of greater force, if it be also positively forbidden by the Laws of the State, which I take to be of great Consideration in this part of the Argument. As for the Exceptions or Objections, that are made to this third Division, they also shall be considered in their turn.

CHAP. VIII. Examination of such Objections as are brought to invalidate what was said above concerning Man’s being a Member of Civil Society, and the unlawfulness of Self-murther in this regard also: Application of what has been said to the Coroners Inquest in this Case.

Hitherto I have endeavored to Answer those Objections, which might seem to oppose what I had said to prove Self-murther Unlawful; as Man was considered in the State of Nature: I come now to examine some others which are brought against what has been said to confirm the same, as he is a Member of Civil Society.

First, I must say something to that which was above mentioned, as an Instance of deserting ones self Lawfully.

Self-preservation doth not so rigorously, and urgently, and illimitedly bind, but that by the Law of Nature it self, things may, yea must, neglect themselves for others, of which the Pelican is an Instance. Another Instance he gives of Bees too, from whence he infers, That as this natural Instinct in Beasts, so rectified Reason belonging only to us, instructs us often to prefer public and necessary Persons, by exposing our selves to inevitable Destruction.

We may Lawfully dispossess our selves of that, without which we can have no hopes to sustain our Lives; as in a Shipwreck a private Man may give his Plank to a Magistrate, and the Examples of Codrus, Curtius and the Decij, and the Approbation of the greatest and the wisest Nations, in the Honors which they paid to their Memory, are usually brought in upon this occasion; this is to prove that the Law of Self-preservation may be dispensed withal in regard of serving the Public; and therefore that it may be so as reasonably in any Man’s private Concern, even to the degree of Killing himself: Or thus, there is no difference (as to Self-preservation) between a Man’s Killing himself upon account of the Public, or his own account; now he that dispossesses himself upon the public Account, to save a public Person: Of that, without which he can have no hopes of saving his own Life, Kills himself.

To this may be Answered,

1. That the use of Instinct in Beasts is to Preserve them. It was given them to this End alone, instead of Reason; therefore it is a Contradiction to affirm, that any Beast, Bird, or Insect destroys it self by Instinct, and the Instances here brought to prove this are Fabulous.

2. That the more Reason is rectify in Man, the more he will understand to what End he received Life, and how little Authority he has to dispose of it; and therefore the more carefully will he obey the Law of Self-preservation, and this particularly upon the Consideration of what he owes the Public.

3. That the Law of Self-preservation may not be willfully broken, even upon the Account of the Public. No Man has naturally any Authority to destroy himself for his Country, designedly and positively; but to hazard his Life only.

As to the Instances of Codrus, Curtius, and the Decij, what they did was grounded upon a Religious or Superstitious Persuasion; which they obeyed as Supernatural, and therefore cannot be used to prove what is Naturally Lawful.

The Instance of giving a Magistrate a Plank in a Shipwreck, implies only great hazard of Life, not positive Destruction of it; because there is a possibility of escaping left; and because the intention is not to die, to abandon all care of ones self, but to take care of another first: To make this more plain I will show,

1. What Authority the Public Power, where-ever ’tis placed, has to require any Person to hazard his Life, and what Warrant that Person has to hazard it accordingly.

2. The difference between extreme Hazard and Self-murther.

3. What Authority, &c. In this Consideration I shall have no regard to any one particular State, but only enquire into the End of Government or Civil Society in General, and this with all Submission imaginable. The end of Civil Government is, I suppose, the promoting the same things for many Men together, upon which their true Happiness depended, as considered singly in the State of Nature: this is usually called the Public Good, that is, each Man’s Private Good as he is Man, considered collectively, and with regard to the General Welfare. Private Good being twofold, as hath been shown, Moral and Sensitive; the object of humane Laws must be twofold also, Virtue and Propriety, and the promoting and securing these in Peace from all Enemies, either from without or within any Political Body seems to be the true natural end of Civil Society.

Now as there is Public Good to be secured, so in order to this, there must be Public Power over every particular Subject, lodged in one or more Persons, according as the Form of the Government is; and lest this Power should be either Dangerous or to no Purpose, there must be also Public Judgment, the Result of the Debates of Wise and Upright Men, to limit it and direct it.

Furthermore, whereas every particular State must be considered as one Political Person; in which respect the being of any State is to be looked upon as the Public Life, and the Well-being of the same State, the Public Health: So it must be supposed that the Public Power must be such, as is proper and requisite to defend these, and consequently that it must extend to Particular Life, whenever the Public Life is any ways in danger.

Now this may be endangered two ways, either 1st. By Enemies within the State, Corrupt and Vicious Men, who obstruct and break the Laws, and infect others; in which Case the Public Power extends to the actual Destruction of such particular Mens Lives, as being necessary for the Preservation of all the rest. Or 2dly. It may be endangered from outward Enemies; other Governments that would Enslave or Destroy it: In which Case the Public Power extends to the obliging such as it thinks fitting to hazard their Lives, when ’tis necessary for the Public Preservation: To hazard, I say, not positively destroy themselves, (as when a blow is made at a Man’s Head, he may lift up his Arm to defend it, venture the breaking of it, not positively break it, which he has no right to do) and necessary it may be supposed, sufficiently to warrant any Man’s Obedience, when the Public Judgment declares that it is so.

But the chief Question is, from whence this Power is derived to the Public, by whom it was granted.

Some suppose it to be granted by Man himself, upon a kind of compact for Protection; but though protection may be one great End of this Power; yet it is generally agreed, that this Power cannot be conferred on the Public by every particular Man; because God alone has the absolute Propriety of humane Life: Man has no such Power himself, and what he has not, he cannot make over to another. Mr. Hobbs will have it to come from Man, but then to decline this Objection, and secure his darling Principle of Self-preservation, he says, This is not done by Man’s transferring any right of his own, but by laying down the right which he has to hurt others. His own Words are these, The Subjects did not give their Sovereign that Right; but only in laying down theirs, strengthened him to use his own as he should think fit for the Preservation of them all; so that it was not given but left to him: If I take this right, this is a very odd distinction; for if a Man has any right to hurt others for his own Preservation; then as he is bound to Preserve himself, so he is bound to retain that Right; and yet if he lays it down, he parts with it as much as if he actually gave it away.

He told us just before, That in the making of a Commonwealth every Man gives away the Right of defending another, but not of defending himself. In several Places he repeats and inculcates this, that no Man can ever part with the right of defending himself; no, not after Lawful Trial and Condemnation: If this be so, How can he lay down the right which he has to hurt others, since by so doing he must be left in a great measure defenseless, and liable, by his own Consent, not only to be hurt, but to be actually destroyed, as in all Capital Punishments.

Wherefore, not withstanding Men choose to struggle thus, rather than have any thing to do with God, while they frame their Political Systems: Yet it seems plain that such a Power as we are speaking of can be derived from no other but God, who alone having the absolute Propriety of all humane Life, can alone have the right to give some Men Power over the Lives of others; and who having framed Man in such a manner, that Civil Society is necessary for his Security and Improvement, and yet such Society not to be preserved without such a Power, must upon these Considerations, and also as he is a wife and just Being; and as he who wills the End must will the Means necessary to that End; must, I say, be supposed to grant to the Magistrate such a Power; a Power to hazard Life himself, and to oblige others to do so, in defense of the Public.

From what has been said may appear, that the Power or Authority which any Government has to require Men to hazard their Lives for the Public Good is derived from God himself, that the time and manner of doing this depends upon the Public Judgment; and that Man is thus warranted for hazarding his Life accordingly.

To return then to the Instance above-mentioned, of a Man’s giving a Magistrate his Plank in a Shipwreck: If a Man may hazard his Life for the Public Good, then if there be some particular Person, in whom the Public Power and Public Judgment is lodged, from whom all the Springs of Action derive their Motion, who is in effect the Life, the Soul of the whole Body, and in whom the Liberty and Property (as we love to speak) of many Millions centers and may be lost; and among the rest his Life also, who shall be concerned for this Public Persons safety; then we may conclude, that any Man may hazard his Life even to the utmost danger to preserve such a Person; yet in these Cases we are to remember Life is only hazarded not abandoned, much less positively destroyed; and that for such extreme hazard Men may justly suppose that they have Authority from God himself, as they are Members of any Civil Government.

And though the danger be great, yet ’tis very seldom that Men fall into certain Death upon these Accounts, as might be shown easily.

But suppose it should be so, yet in this Case an honest good Man does not mind any thing but to do his Duty, to pursue faithfully the End for which Life was given; and if Life should be lost in this pursuit, this is not his desire, nor his fault; ’twas not his aim to die, but to do as he ought; nay gladly would he have lived had Life been consistent with his Virtue; but when this came in Question, both Death and Life became indifferent, and though he Chooses neither, he accepts readily of either, as they offer themselves in his way to his Duty.

This I find confirmed by the Schoolmen in a harder Case than any above-mentioned. Suppose a powerful Tyrant should bring the last City of any State to the greatest Extremity, by all the sad Consequences of a long and prosperous Siege; as loss and weariness of Men, Famine, Contention, Corruption; and no hopes of Succor should be left; suppose that after this, he should refuse all Articles of Submission, and should threaten Destruction by Fire and Sword, unless they delivered up to him some one particular innocent Person. This City (say they) may not only deliver him up, though they know him to be Innocent; but that very Person may deliver up himself, and yet without being guilty of destroying himself, because, as above said, his chief end is the doing so much Good, not the Dying; his particular intention, his design that he had in view continually was to save his Country; and this being the only means which was left, he resolves to incur the greatest danger to this purpose; and yet in all this is positive only as to the doing of his Duty, and far from being positive as to the destroying of his Life. To complete this Argument let us now see,

1. How great the difference is between this and Self-murther, and consequently how unreasonably the one is made a plea for the other.

He that hazards Life for the Public does this in obedience to the Laws both of God and Man; he that destroys his own Life does this in disobedience to the Laws of both; the first by observing the true End of Life, does what God and Nature primarily designed as most proper to preserve Life, and if he loses it ’tis by the violence of others; the latter neglecting the true End of Life destroys it willfully by the most positive act of injustice to God, his Country and himself; the first only hazards Life, the latter chooses Death; if the first happens to die ’tis against his will, if the latter lives ’tis against his; and as to the Public, the one dies for it, the other dies against it; not only by deserting it, but by breaking its Laws, and encouraging others to do so, and also by enervating the strictness ties of Kindness, Trust and Justice, which may end at last in the total dissolution of any Government; the Comparison might be carried further, but this may be sufficient to show the unreasonableness of this Conclusion, That because a Man may give a Magistrate his Plank in a Shipwreck therefore he may Murther himself.

The next Objection is to this purpose, That if Self-murther is unjust in regard of the Public, ’tis because it loses a Member; but this may as well be said of all those who retiring themselves from Functions in the Commonwealth, defraud the State of their Assistance, and attend only their own Ends. If the Person be of necessary use to the State, there are in it some degrees of Injustice, but yet no more than if a General of much use should retire into a Monastery. To this may be Answered.

1. That one of the Reasons why Self-murther is unjust to the Public, but not the only one; is its losing a Member.

2. The Instance here given does not come up to the point; for a General may not lay down his Commission without leave, when he is necessary for his Countries Service; but he may justly be punished if he refuses to Act. Yet suppose a Man may retire from Public Affairs to attend his own Ends; Is this as much damage to the Public as Selfmurther? He that attends his own Ends, (if by this be meant his particular Interest as to his Family) contributes to the Public Good, and may do so very considerably, though never so much retired: However the causes of his Retirement may alter, and then he may serve the Public again upon Necessity; or should he not, he may serve and assist his particular Friends and Relations, improve his Knowledge and his Fortune, be an Example of Virtue, and in many other respects observe the end for which Life was given; and this sure cannot be the same with the putting a Man’s self into an unalterable incapacity of doing any good at all, by the willful and positive destruction of Life.

To this it may perhaps be replied, That here Strength and Vigor is required, Health of Body and Activity of Mind; but suppose a Man by extreme Age or Infirmity, by loss some Sense or some Limb, should be made incapable of serving the Public, had not he as good be gone as stay to no purpose, may not he leave the World if he pleases when he is become good for nothing.

This Supposition seems to be grounded upon a very gross sense of serving the Public; as if States-men were to be chosen by the breadth of their Shoulders, and strong and sizeable Men were as necessary for the Council Table as the Guard Room; for if Men be past Reason the Dispute is at an end, but if they are capable of using it, why should old Age be objected, unless Maturity and Experience should be disadvantages? When Reason is lost, no Man can be accountable for Self-murther, or any other Action, yet even then we preserve Life carefully in Idiots and Madmen at the Public Expense; either in hopes of their recovery, or to learn to value Reason as we ought, or to praise the giver of it, so that there is scarce any Wretch but may be some way or other beneficial to the Public, even by his being alive alone; how much more may he be so when Reason remains, and that too so highly valued and well understood, that Men will choose sooner to part with Life than remain deprived of the glorious advantage of it? Or if this should not be allowed, what Rule can be given? What degree of Age or Infirmity can be fixed, when Men shall be judged to be good for nothing, and permitted to Murther themselves accordingly? Such a thing (if possible) might prevent it indeed, since Men would be apt to live in despite of all their Miseries, rather than buy the privilege of Self-murther at so dear a rate, as to be judged by others, and be obliged to acknowledge themselves, that they are good for nothing.

But while Reason remains, as I said before, this is impossible, and many Instances may be given of Persons who have done their Country the most considerable Service under all these Calamities above-mentioned, nay at the very time of Death it self. The whole Senate of Rome had once so basely degenerated as to surrender up tamely their Liberty and their Glory, in that dishonorable Peace which they had unanimously resolved to conclude with Pyrrhus: When Appius Claudius who had been absent from Public Affairs, through extreme Age, Blindness and Lameness, for many Years, as soon as he heard of it, caused himself to be carried to the House, and bravely upbraided them with their Cowardice and Perfidiousness to their Country: What Man had ever such appearances of being past serving the Public, or being good for nothing; and yet how vigorous was his Soul in so decrepit a Body? One would think the Genius of Rome, chased out from the degenerate Senate, had retired for shelter under the Ruins of this great old Man. ‘Tis certain that if he had not had so many Infirmities he would have been less regarded, but the fight of these made his Zeal surprising; raised their Attention with their Admiration, and gave every Word a peculiar force to restore them to their Courage and their Reason as unanimously as they had rebelled against both before: This made his Infirmities numbered in after Ages among his Trophies, and Coecus a more glorious distinction than Asiaticus, Africanus, &c. for they who had those Titles, only added Vast and Luxurious Provinces to their Country, which proved the Destruction of it at last; but Appius conquered its most dreadful Enemy, and saved it, for that time, from it self. The great Father Paul a few Minutes before his Death, after he had been long weakened by Age and Sickness, had three Cases of very great Importance sent to him, by the Senate of Venice, to each of which he gave his Opinions, and that wise Assembly followed them accordingly. In these Instances there was not only a complication of Calamities, but Death it self, had almost taken Possession, and yet neither, made them past serving of the Public.

What shall be pretended then for the loss of any one Sense? as the Stoics do; Shall this be taken for a certain Sign of being past doing good? And consequently a reasonable Plea for Self-murther; and shall that be acted accordingly? Had it been so always, how much Instruction and Delight would Mankind have been deprived of, had Homer —-Nay had Milton done so, the World had lost that admirable Poem? Oh, had he made but as good use of his Eyes!

‘Tis true few Persons are qualified for such great Performances, but these Instances may show that such Calamities, as above-mentioned, do not make all Men past serving of their Country, or good for nothing; and that if such Pretences were allowed for Self-murther in one Person, they must be so in another; and if so, that this may prove very hurtful to any State, nay possibly to the whole World.

But after all, it may be further Objected, If a Man has leave from the Public to Murther himself, he does it no Injury; this leave has frequently been granted by the Roman Senate, and at Marseilles a Vessel of Poison was kept ready at the Public Charge, for those to whom they gave Permission to Murther themselves. This Custom may be of use to us so far in this Argument as to prove that these People thought that no Man who lived in a Civil State had right over his own Life, but the Public had a claim to it, which is very true in its proper Limitation; but then this was not such a claim as is grounded upon absolute Propriety; such as gives a Power to dispose of any thing when and how it pleases; because the right which the Public has over particular Life is only for security of Public Life, grounded upon Self-defense, and never to be made use of but in extreme Necessity; as for the cutting off a corrupted part, or for the opposing open Violence: Wherefore this Right being grounded only upon this Foundation, for any Political Body to pretend to give leave to any Innocent Person to kill himself, is as absurd as for any Man to give his right Hand leave to cut off his left when it ails nothing, or to wound himself in any other sound part. In a Word; this would be both Folly and Usurpation, for had the Public this absolute Right, all Complaints of Tyranny and Oppression would be very unreasonable?

But after all what do such Instances as these signify to Us, or to any Nation which does not grant the same Permission: If the Matter were to be determined by Humane Laws; we of this Nation (not to mention others) are forbid it under the strictest Penalties.

But here our Author tells us again, If our Law be severe in punishing of it, and that this Argument has the more strength, because more Nations concur in such Laws: It may well from hence be retorted, that every where Men are inclinable to it, which establishes much our Opinion, says he, considering that none of those Laws, which prescribe Civil restraints from doing it, can make it Sin; and that Act is not much discredited if it be therefore Evil, because it is so forbidden, and binds the Conscience no further but under the general Precept of obedience to the Law or the Forfeiture.—Here are three things advanced;

1. That the General Concurrence of Nations in any Law proves a General Inclination in Mankind to the committing of the thing forbidden; and therefore that that thing is Natural. This I think is very strange! All Nations concur in severe Laws against Murthering of Princes, Husbands, Fathers, against betraying Forts, Ships, &c. Now does this prove a General Inclination of People to these Crimes? No certainly; but it proves a general abhorrence and detestation of them, and the ill Consequences of them to Mankind; and therefore is an undeniable Argument of such things being unnatural.

2. We are told that none of those Laws which prescribe Civil Restraints from doing it (i.e. Self-Murther) can make it Sin, and the Act is not much discredited if it be therefore Evil because it is so forbidden.

The Law of any Land does not make Self-murther to be a Sin or Evil, but found it so, ’tis really so by the Law of Nature, as I hope has been shown; ’tis declared to be so by positive Laws, to put Men in mind of it, to save them the trouble of reasoning it out, and to deter them from committing it, by the threats of immediate Punishment; and that which was thus founded in Nature, and afterwards commanded by Man’s Law brings a new obligation upon the Conscience, for if humane Laws concerning things indifferent in their own Nature (which forbid an Action which a Man might be otherwise free to do, or command one which he might be otherwise free to omit) do oblige us, as every one allows, then how much more must they do so when they forbid a thing which is not indifferent but naturally unlawful, and which a Man was obliged to forbear before; and so on the contrary: If this be so, that must also be a mistake which is affirmed.

3. That humane Laws which forbid Self-murther bind the Conscience no further, but under the General Precept of Obedience to the Law, or else to the Forfeiture.

When a Civil Punishment is affix to that which is a Natural Evil, a Man is not left at liberty to choose to suffer the one for acting the other; particularly in the Case of Self-murther; because a Man was obliged in Conscience before the humane Law was made, and because the Punishment (in this Case especially, of all others) is by no means adequate to the Crime; besides if a Man may choose the Punishment, then the Law of Man instead of enforcing the Law of Nature, would only be the convenience of evading it. Wherefore as this distinction is unjust, so is it most pernicious to all Civil Governments.

Yet after all; supposing that it should be lawful to choose the Civil Punishment, for the committing that which is Naturally Evil: How shall this reach the Offender, as to Self-murther? This can affect him no otherwise, than as to his Dead Body, or his Posterity; and therefore how false is this Pretence at the Bottom? And how base is this detestable Action? whereby a Wretch breaks the Laws of God and his Country, and exposes his best and dearest Friends, his next Relations, nay his Children often, to suffer the Punishment due to his Crime. If in excuse for this it should be said, That such People may be supposed to satisfy themselves with hopes of the Punishments being escaped by their Heirs, either through Friendship, Compassion, Bribery, &c. If, I say, this should be alleged, then certainly it is very well worthy of Consideration, whether the putting of those Laws duly and constantly in Execution, which are provided in this Case, would not be of very great force to put a stop to this Evil? The Consideration of shame alone did this heretofore in the Case of the Milesians, and the Romans also under Tarquinius Priscus: Our Laws then may do this more effectually; which allowing but the same Burial which other Felons have, and requiring the Forfeiture of the Personal Estate, have not only the Natural tye of shame, but a much stronger, that of tenderness to their Posterity, to restrain such Rash and Melancholy Creatures by.

And this leads me to apply my self particularly to the Coroner and his Inquest upon these sad Occasions. For although somewhat of this kind has been done lately by an ingenious Author; yet the Nature of his Design (I suppose) not suffering him to enlarge upon it, there seems to be room left for something to be added.

I will first then give some Account of the Duty of the Coroner and his Jury, and what the Law directs, and upon what Grounds, (as I have been informed) in this Case: And afterwards show the unreasonable of those Prejudices or Pretences which Men are apt to be swayed by, notwithstanding these great Obligations.

As to the first, When the Coroner has notice, that any one is come to a violent and untimely Death; he is to Summon and Impanel a Jury out of the Neighborhood, and administer this Oath to them.

You shall Swear, that you shall well and truly inquire, and true Presentment make of all such matters and things as shall be given you in Charge, on the behalf of our Sovereign Lord the King, touching the Death of A. B. So Help you God.

As to the Matters and Things here mentioned, these are Explained farther to them by the Coroner in his Charge; Then they are to find out the manner of the Persons Death, whether by Drowning, Strangling, Wounds received, or otherwise; whether by another or himself, if by himself, whether he was Felo de se, or non Compos mentis.

And to this End they are to be directed and assisted by the Depositions of those whom the Coroner Summons to give Evidence, or by the hearing of the Council, which is sometimes brought upon these Occasions. What is meant by being non Compos; the Law informs them, that it is the deprivation of Reason or Understanding: Such a state of the Mind wherein there is a Cessation from Exercising the Discursive Faculty. That there are four sorts of Persons which the Law looks upon to be non Compos. 1. An Idiot or Natural Fool. 2. One that has been of Good and Sound Memory, but by the Visitation of God has lost it. 3. A Lunatic who has Intervals. 4. One who becomes Mad, by his own Act, through Excessive Drinking. Upon the Verdict of non Compos the Goods and Chattels of the Deceased are to be enquired after, valued immediately, as if they were to be sold and delivered to the Kings use; and the Body refused Christian Burial. The reason of which Punishment is said to be, because Self-murther is an Offence against Nature, it being the Property of every thing to preserve it self; against God, for that it offends his Commandment; against the King, for that he loses a Subject, and an ill Example is given to the rest. All which have been explained and enforced in the former part of this Treatise.

We may see here the Authority, by which the Coroner and his Jury Act, the Nature of their Duty, and the great Trust reposed in them, as also the Laws Interpretation of non Compos, the Punishment that is threatened, and the Ground and Intent of the Law: All Which every one of the Jury is obliged to observe by the sacred Bond of a Solemn Oath; and this one would suppose might be sufficient to cause any honest Man to make true Presentment, deliver in his Verdict in such a Case Impartially; yet it is found to be otherwise by Experience. Wherefore.

1. I come to show the unreasonableness of those Prejudices and Pretences by which Men are usually swayed in this Matter; and in so doing I shall not look upon my self (being to talk with another sort of People now) to be confined to Natural Principles only.

2. Is a General Supposition that every one who kills himself is non Compos, and that no body would do such an Action unless he were Distracted; this will be found unreasonable if we consider,

3. That if this were really so, then it would be to no purpose for the Law to appoint any enquiry to be made in such Cases: If a Man may not be supposed to be in his Wits when he lays violent Hands upon himself, to what intent is the Summoning in of so many Men, the giving them a Solemn Oath, examining Witnesses, hearing Council; all this supposes the Case doubtful; but according to that Opinion all this is vain and impertinent, because they have nothing left to judge of.

4. If this were so, then our Laws are not only Impertinent but Unjust, by affixing a Punishment to such an Act, as the Person that commits it cannot help: He that is Distracted knows not what he does, and therefore is not Accountable for this or any other Deed; since then the Laws of this Nation, and of many others of great Reputation for Wisdom and Justice (as shall be shown immediately) have ordained a Punishment for this Action, it is plain that they thought it might possibly be committed Willfully, and Advisedly; and if so, ’tis Confidence and Presumption for any private Person to suppose the contrary.

5. This will appear farther if we consider the several Explications of the Words Non Compos above-mentioned, particularly the third concerning Lunatics: If a Person known to be Lunatic several Years, be also known to have had several Intervals, he shall be liable to the Law, unless it be plainly proved that he was distempered at the very time of killing himself: How much more if a Man has never been known to have been Lunatic at all. As to the 4th sort of Madness above-mentioned, the Law does not look upon this as an Excuse for any Crime committed in that Condition; because it was the Parties own voluntary Act to bring himself into it. However this may be of Use to judge of other kinds of Madness by: Which People may be supposed to be affected withal in this Case; it very seldom appears that they who destroy themselves have had the same or as great signs of Distraction, as are frequently caused by excessive Drinking, or supposing they may have had so, yet let the Juror consider whether this may not be caused as much through the Parties own fault as the other; whether he did not bring upon himself, or give way to the beginning of his Discontent; whether he did not willfully foment and increase it, and at last stubbornly persist in it. Let him also consider whether he would have excused the same Person for killing another Man, upon those very signs of Madness which move him now to excuse him for killing himself: I believe this may be one good Rule for an honest Juror to walk by, especially since the killing of ones self has been shown above, to be rather worse in regard of the Public, than the killing of another Man.

Yet after all, how oft does it appear in these Cases, that the Person concerned did give plain and certain Signs of a good Understanding (I mean Naturally, not Morally so) by some Circumstances of his Death or other: Some have enquired what was the easiest way of Dying, or where to place the Weapon best; others have used much cunning and contrivance to procure the Instrument, have kept it long by them, and warily chosen a proper Time and Place to make use of it; others again have made their Wills, or settled their Affairs otherways; taken leave of their Friendssolemnly, sent those out of the way that might have hindered them; these and such like Circumstances are Arguments of Deliberation and Advisedness, and prove sufficiently that such a Person was Compos Mentis.

If it be Moral and not Natural Madness that is here meant, not only he that commits any other great Crime, but he that subverts a Lawful Government, by a long train of well laid Designs, though he cannot be suspected of any Natural defect of Understanding, yet is as much Mad in this sense as any one that kills himself can be supposed to be; and yet sure this would not be allowed as an Excuse for so doing. But this sort of Madness does not fall under the Coroners Inquest in the present Case: Moral Madness is the misapplication of the Understanding, not the total Deprivation of it, and the Question here is not whether the Understanding was misapplied, but whether there was any Understanding left at all: This brings me to some other kind of Pretences, which are caused chiefly,

1. By mistaking the Subject of their enquiry, and making themselves Judges of that which does not belong to them; their Duty consists in enquiring well and truly how the Person came by his Death, if by himself, whether he was felo de se, or non Compos, and in making true Presentment accordingly. This is what they are Sworn to do; but instead of this they are apt to run out beyond their Bounds, and consider what the Event of their Verdict will be, either as to the Forfeiture, or the Person Deceased.

2. As to the Forfeiture, they are sometimes mightily concerned about this; What will become of it? Upon whom shall it be bestowed? Upon such perhaps as do not want it, or among so many that it will do them little or no Good; whereas in the lump it might be of great advantage to the next Heirs: Why is not Charity due to them as much as mere Strangers, &c. To this may be replied,

3. That which is thus forfeited devolves to the Lord Almoner, the distributor of His Majesties Alms, according to his Direction; and therefore they ought to be satisfied that it will be disposed of Judiciously and Faithfully.

4. Supposing the worst, what is this to the Coroner or any of his Jury; the Law has not made them Judges in this matter, or given them Authority to consider what will be most convenient and proper to be done with that which is Forfeited, or who are the best Objects of Charity: They are called to Judge of matter of Fact by what they see and hear. Let them remember their Oaths, they are not Sworn to be Charitable but to be Just, to enquire well and truly, diligently and impartially concerning the Fact, and to give their Judgment according to their Conscience; and therefore a good Man ought to be upon his Guard against such Insinuations as these, and to take care lest his Charity should absurdly corrupt his Justice; absurdly I say, for he that is Just, (in Criminal Causes especially,) is Charitable in the Noblest way; for whilst his Impartial Sentence deters others from committing the same Crime, his Charity extends not only to all the Innocent and Virtuous of the Present Age, but to late Posterity.

Again some run out beyond their Limits and fall into Mistakes, by considering the Event of their Judgment as to the Parties Reputation, and their being Guilty of Uncharitableness in this regard; they think that to bring him in Felo de se, would be to pronounce him damned, therefore that they ought to Judge Charitably, especially, since they could not see into his Heart, or discover his last thoughts.

This would not need an Answer, but that Ignorant, though well meaning People are often concerned upon these Occasions, and apt to receive such Scruples from Cunning Solicitors, that are always busy about them, if the Chattels are worth the saving: Therefore something must be said to it.

1. Then the Jurors bringing in the Deceased Felo de se, does not pronounce him damned at all, this he leaves to God alone; whatever his Judgment of the Fact is, it can be neither the better nor the worse for him in the next World; his Impartial Verdict does not alter the Nature of the Fact: If he thinks him Guilty, yet he does not contribute to his being so, and what he thinks; he is obliged to declare by Lawful Authority; and if he does not so, is Guilty himself of Breach of Trust towards his Country, and of Perjury towards his God.

2. As to the seeing into his Thoughts, the difficulty of doing so, and the Judging Charitably upon this Account: This seems very little to the purpose: In indifferent Actions, or such as will bear a double Interpretation; we ought to beware how we Judge to the disadvantage of our Neighbor, especially when not called by Lawful Authority; but where a Man is so called; where there is a Notorious Transgression of the Law, as in the present Case, the Fact is so evidently Evil, that there needs no weighing of the thoughts, or searching of what kind they were; especially since, when a Person is found to have killed himself, the Question is not what his Thoughts were, but whether he had any Thought at all, that is whether he was Mad or no?

Yet after all, though I have hitherto applied my self to the Jury, ’tis certain that their Verdict depends much upon the Coroner, and ’tis his fault chiefly if the Laws which provide against Self-murther, are eluded; ’tis he that Summons whom he pleases to be of the Jury, and to these he gives what Charge he pleases; the Examination of the Witnesses, the Summing up the Evidence is done by him: So that unless there happen to be upon the Jury Men of Conscience, Courage and Understanding (which may easily be avoided if the Coroner thinks fitting) they will be apt to be led by him implicitly. And there being no Fee allowed upon Felo de se, the Verdicts being for the King; and a Gratuity seldom wanting when it is for the Heirs; ’tis no wonder that the Return is generally Non Compos.

But if these Papers should ever fall into the Hands of any of these Gentlemen; I entreat them to Consider seriously the trust that is reposed in them, they being Chosen by the Freeholders of their several Counties, as Parliament Men are; and what the Consequence will be (even to after Ages) of the breach of such Trust: And to themselves especially, if they believe any thing of another World: For to omit the Suspicions of Corruption which I am very loath to improve; whatever the Motive is, through which the Design of any Law is Eluded; the Consequence will be much the same: If a Law be made to restrain a dreadful Sin, which is withal very pernicious to the State, and such or such a Punishment is appointed to this End; if this Law becomes of no force by that very Persons Preventing the Punishment, who is entrusted by his Country to see the Law Executed: Let this be done out of Compassion, Generosity, or what you please; all the increase of the Sin forbidden, so heinous in its own Nature, and so pernicious to the Public, he will have a share in; and if he be guilty of Perjury, if he betray his Country, not only in the Present Age, but is false to Posterity also: What will it signify that this was done out of Charity or Generosity to one or two Persons, who perhaps did not need it: Or if they did never so much, how preposterous must that Charity be, which to assist a few, as to Temporal Conveniences, shall contribute to the Damnation of many Souls, and make a Man venture through Treachery and Perjury to hazard his own.

If these Considerations, and others of the like kind, should not prevail with these Persons so much as immediate Punishment: The Lord Chief Justice of the Kings Bench, for the time being, is, as I am told, the chief Coroner of England, enquiries into Failures of this kind, may be made in that Court, and this Consideration ought to terrify every one who shall be thus concerned, especially at this time, since that Important Trust was never discharged with more profound Knowledge of our Laws, and with greater Integrity than at Present.

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Filed under Adams, John, Europe, Protestantism, Selections, The Early Modern Period