[CHAP. XXII.]
AN ANSWER TO THE OBJECTION, THAT ONE LOSES ONE’S REASON IN GETTING DRUNK.
It is objected here, that reason ought to be the motive of all our actions; and, of consequence, that we ought not voluntarily to lose it.
To this objection I answer several ways:— First and foremost then, I say, people do well to talk to us so much of reason, when almost all mankind acts without reason, so that it may pass for a thing that has no manner of existence but in the imagination. We shall prove this from M. Bayle. “[1]We are defined,” says he, “a reasonable animal. A very fine definition indeed, when none of us do any thing but without reason. I assure you, sir, that one may say of reason, what Euripides said in the beginning of one of his tragedies, and which afterwards was corrected, on account of the murmurings of the people. O Jupiter, for of thee I know nothing but only the name! In relation to the faculty I am talking of, we know nothing more of it than that, so that we may well laugh at the complaints of that heathen philosopher, who found that reason was a very troublesome present sent to us by the gods for our ruin; for he supposed, that reason busied herself in our affairs, whereas the truth of it is she never meddles in the least with them. We act nothing but with prejudice, by instinct, by self-love, and the sudden starts of a thousand passions, which drag and turn our reason as they will, insomuch that one may most justly define the principle which rules and domineers over us, a mass of prejudices and passions which knows how to draw consequences. I remember to have seen a man, who having never heard mention made of the Cotta of Cicero, said nevertheless as well as he, that it would have been much better that God had not made us reasonable, since reason poisons all our affairs, and makes us ingenious to afflict ourselves, upon which a certain person said to him in raillery, That he had what he desired; that he had received so small a share of reason that it was not worth his while to complain. For my part, I turned the thing otherwise, that people were much in the wrong to murmur against reason, since it is not that which guides us; and that it is not too possible it should, without overthrowing the order which has reigned so long in the world. The learned Erasmus, continued I, deserves the highest praise in this respect; he has written The Praise of Folly, wherein he shews that she sheds every where her influence, and without her, the whole world would in a short time be turned topsy turvy. I make no doubt, sir, but you know the merit of that work. The author speaks, though in a merry manner, the greatest truths in the world; and I do not know whether he believed himself as profound a philosopher, as he really was in that ingenious satire.”
Secondly, This is not all, “[2]It is sometimes necessary, for the general good of the world, to follow prejudices, popular errors, and the blind instincts of nature, rather than the distinct ideas of reason.” Mr. Bayle extends himself farther on this idea in another place[3], which I shall here insert. “Errors,” says he, “irregular passions, and unreasonable prejudices, are so necessary to the world to make it a theatre of that prodigious diversity of events which make one admire his providence. So that he who would reduce men to do nothing but according to the distinct ideas of reason, would ruin civil society. If man was reduced to this condition, he would have no longer any desire of glory; and having no longer that desire, is it not true, that then mankind would be like ice? I say, he would have no desire of glory, for right reason shews us, that we should not make our happiness depend on the judgment of other men; and consequently, that we should not toil and fatigue ourselves, to make other people say this, or that, of us ——. The earnest desire of being praised after death is an instinct of morality that God has impressed in the mind of man, to keep up society. And it is certain, that earnest desire has been the cause of the greatest events; and this ought to instruct us that the world stands in need of a great many instincts, which, examined according to the ideas of our reason, are ridiculous and absurd. For there is nothing so opposite to reason as to torment ourselves in this life, that we may be praised after we are dead, since neither philosophy, nor experience, nor faith, nor any thing whatsover, makes it appear, that the praises given us after death can do us any good. It would be a thing uneasy to the heart of man, if we did nothing but according to the light of reason; and how many designs would come to nothing at the same time?”
Thirdly, Besides, reason very often serves for nothing but to make us wretched. “The happiness of man is never the work of reason.” Of all our evils reason is often the worst; it frightens us in the full career of our pleasures, and with importunate remorses comes to bridle our fleet desires. The horrid thing reserves for us most cruel and matchless rigours. It is like a troublesome pedant one is forced to hear, who always growls, but never touches us, and frequently like D———, and such like venerable impertinents, lose the time they employ in predication.
“If there be any happiness[4],” says Fontenelle, “that reason produces, it is like that sort of health which cannot be maintained but by the force of physic, and which is ever most feeble and uncertain.” And in another place he cries out, “[5]Can we not have sound sight without being at the same time wretched and uneasy? Is there any thing gay but error? And is reason made for any thing else but to torment and kill us?” “[6]What cause have not men to bewail their wretched condition? Nature furnishes them but with a very few things that are agreeable, and their reason teaches them how to enjoy them yet less.” “[7]And why has Nature, in giving us passions which are sufficient to make us happy, given us reason, that will not suffer us to be so?”
It was this same troublesome reason that made Sophocles say, “[8]It is very sweet to live, but none of your wisdom, away with her, she spoils life.”
Vaunt less thy reason, O unhappy man!
Behold how useless is this gift celestial,
For which, they say, thou should’st the rest disdain.