A Strange Story — Volume 01Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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A Strange Story — Volume 01
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
As in medicine I had been the pupil of Broussais, so in
metaphysics I was the disciple of Condillac. I believed with that
philosopher that "all our knowledge we owe to Nature; that in the
beginning we can only instruct ourselves through her lessons; and that
the whole art of reasoning consists in continuing as she has compelled us
to commence." Keeping natural philosophy apart from the doctrines of
revelation, I never assailed the last; but I contended that by the first
no accurate reasoner could arrive at the existence of the soul as a third
principle of being equally distinct from mind and body. That by a
miracle man might live again, was a question of faith and not of
understanding. I left faith to religion, and banished it from
philosophy. How define with a precision to satisfy the logic of
philosophy what was to live again? The body? We know that the
body rests in its grave till by the process of decomposition its
elemental parts enter into other forms of matter. The mind? But the
mind was as clearly the result of the bodily organization as the music of
the harpsichord is the result of the instrumental mechanism. The mind
shared the decrepitude of the body in extreme old age, and in the
full vigour of youth a sudden injury to the brain might forever destroy
the intellect of a Plato or a Shakspeare. But the third principle,--the
soul,--the something lodged within the body, which yet was to survive it?
Where was that soul hidden out of the ken of the anatomist? When
philosophers attempted to define it, were they not compelled to confound
its nature and its actions with those of the mind? Could they reduce it
to the mere moral sense, varying according to education, circumstances,
and physical constitution? But even the moral sense in the most virtuous
of men may be swept away by a fever. Such at the time I now speak of
were the views I held,--views certainly not original nor pleasing; but I
cherished them with as fond a tenacity as if they had been consolatory
truths of which I was the first discoverer. I was intolerant to those who
maintained opposite doctrines,--despised them as irrational, or disliked
them as insincere. Certainly if I had fulfilled the career which my
ambition predicted,--become the founder of a new school in pathology, and
summed up my theories in academical lectures,--I should have added
another authority, however feeble, to the sects which circumscribe the
interest of man to the life that has its close in his grave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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