GIFT OF
THE
PRINCIPLES
METAPHYSICAL AND ETHICAL SCIENCE
APPLIED TO THE
EVIDENCES OF RELIGION.
A NEW EDITION,
KBVISED AND ANNOTATED, FOR THE USE OF COLLEGES.
BY FRANCIS BOWEN, A.M.
ALFORD PEOFESSOE OP NATURAL RELIGION, koRAL PHILOSOPHY, AND CIYIt POIJTT IS
HARVARD COLLEGE.
BOSTON:
BREWER AND TILESTON.
CLEVELAND: INGHAM AND BRAGG.
7
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
FRANCIS BOWEN,
In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
CA MBBIDO :
ALLEN AND FABNHAM, STEREOTTPERS AND PRINTERS.
PREFACE.
THE substance of this work was delivered in two
courses of lectures before the Lowell Institute in Bos
ton, in the winters of 1848-9. These lectures were
afterwards published, but the edition of them is now
exhausted. Having had occasion to use the work as &\
text-book of instruction, for the students of Hsurvardy
College, in the leading doctrines of Metaphysical ana
Ethical Philosophy, considered as bearing upon the
Evidences of Religion, I have endeavored to recast the
materials in this edition, so as to render it more avail
able for such a purpose. A few abridgments have made
room for considerable additions, mostly in the form of
notes, which are principally designed to elucidate and
criticize at greater length those doctrines and theories
on philosophy and science which were but briefly noticed
in the lectures. In its present form, the work is de
signed to be a compend of the principles of Ethics
and Metaphysics, so far as these affect the foundations
of our religious belief. Some of the notes are merely
explanatory, while others are intended, by citations from
different writers, to support the positions maintained in
the text. I have made jree use, for this purpose, of the
writings of Isaac Taylor, John S. Mill, Dr. Whewell,
and Sir William Hamilton. In its present form, the
work may be regarded as an imperfect supplement to the
invaluable treatises of Dr. Butler and Dr. Paley, the
principal object being to consider those objections and
difficulties in the way of the believer which are of recent
origin, or have grown out of recent discoveries and
284307 (iii)
IV PREFACE.
speculations in science and philosophy, as well as the
important additions to the Evidences of Religion which
have been derived from the same source.
In the Preface to the first edition, it was remarked,
that though so many volumes have been written upon
the Evidences of Religion, it does not appear that the
subject is exhausted, or that the productions of a former
age are, in every respect, suited to the exigencies of our
own times. There are peculiar forms or infidelity or
peculiar causes of latitudinarian opinions in religion,
which are more prevalent in one age than another. I
have endeavored in this work to meet those objections
and difficulties which are most current in our own day ;
to meet them with that course of argument and illus
tration which has seemed most satisfactory to my own
mind, and without fear of incurring the charge of a
want of originality on the one hand, or of a fondness for
novel and abstruse speculations on the other. I have
not been afraid, either to follow in the footsteps of
others, if their arguments happened to be best adapted
to my purpose, or to strike off into a new path, if I
might thereby more surely and safely attain the great
object in view. ^Th se who find little that is new in
this book, may be assured that it was not written for
them, but for a class of readers who are less adequately
informed upon the subject. Those who dislike abstract
speculations, may pass it 7>ver for a similar reason ; if
they have never been entangled in a web of metaphysi
cal subtilties, a clew to the labyrinth will be of no ser
vice to them.
Some repetitions may be found in these pages, as I
have been more willing to incur the charge of prolixity
and a frequent recurrence to the same line of remark
ar>d argument, than of obscurity or an affected abstruse-
ness. The nature of the objections considered has un
avoidably led me into some of the dark corners of
speculation ; but I have honestly tried to dissipate
rather than increase the obscurity, and for this purpose,
have often held up the same subject in many different
lights, and looked at it from various points of view,
Though the recapitulation, at the beginning of on
PREFACE. V
chapter, of the argument in the preceding one, is not so
useful for the reader as the hearer, I have allowed it to
remain as it was written, because, when an argument
has been once explained at length and with some mi
nuteness, a brief summary of it often makes the connec
tion of its parts more obvious, and the reasoning itself
more clear and convincing.
In alluding to some of the novel opinions and theo
ries in science and philosophy, which have gained a
little popularity of late both in England and America,
ihough their place of origin must be sought elsewhere,
it has not been my wish to provoke controversy. Opin
ions may be freely discussed without causing offence ;
I have never referred to the individuals or sects who en
tertain and defend them. Some of these opinions, I arn
well aware, ar.e held by many persons who unite with
them a lively and steadfast faith, a devotional spirit, and
a religious life ; but they have been stumbling-blocks to
others, for whom alone I have endeavored to surmount
or remove them. The discussion of them has some
times led me further into the territory of the natural
sciences than it was perhaps prudent for one to venture
who has only a general acquaintance with these sub
jects, and has never made them objects of special pur
suit. But in these days, when knowledge is so widely
diffused that the latest theories and discoveries in
science are familiarly discussed in the newspapers, the
bearing of these theories upon the religiqus belief of the
multitude cannot be safely neglected. /I have no fears
of any conflict between the truths of real science and
those either of Natural or Revealed Religion. The
voice of nature, when rightly interpreted, never contra
dicts itself, and the truth that is fully comprehended is
always sufficient for its own defence. But when sciol
ism is almost universal, speculations which usurp the
name and garb of science may often give a rude shock
to the convictions of a large class who are not well in
structed enough to be able to separate hypotheses from
established facts, and who can be dazzled by the fluent
use of scientific phraseology. Such speculations are
easily exposed in their true character, even by those
VI PREFACE.
whose studies have not gone beyond the limit which
every educated person at the present day is supposed to
have reached.
The business of a writer upon the Evidences is to
reason, and not to preach. I have endeavored to show,
that the fundamental doctrines of religion rest upon the
same basis which supports,.jill science, and that they
cannot be denied without rejecting also the familiar
truths which we adopt almost unconsciously, and upon
which we depend for the conduct of life and the regula
tion of our ordinary concerns. The application of these
doctrines to the heart and the life, is the business of the
professed teachers of Christianity, into whose province
I have not felt competent to intrude. Some may think
that I have been too cautious in this respect, and have
placed too little stress upon sentiment, and too much
upon argument, as if religion were less an affair of the
heart than of the intellect. To this objection it may be
answered, that belief is one thing, and the regulation of
conduct according to that belief is another. A cold and
passive assent to the doctrines of Christianity, is not
enough to constitute a religious life ; but no one will
maintain, that a Christian life is compatible with a
denial of those doctrines, or with indifference upon the
question whether they are true or false. Emotion which
is not directed towards any object, nor excited "by the
contemplation of any truth, may spring from a source as
low as mere physical stimulus ; it is then animal rather
than spiritual in its nature. Religious emotions must
rest upon religious ideas and convictions, or they will
be as transitory as they are vehement. The heart and
the intellect must move together and in concert, for
nothing can be more barren than their separate action,
or more pitiable than a conflict between them. If there
are any whose enjoyment of spiritual truth is never
darkened or perplexed by doubts and questionings, they
are those who have first acquired clear and distinct con
ceptions of what that truth is, and have then satisfied
themselves, by study and experience, that it is founded
upon a rock. It is doing no honor to our religious faith
to place it upon the footing of a necessary prejudice.
PREFACE. Vii
But as this subject is considered at length in some of
the following chapters, there is no occasion to pursue it
here. I wished only to express my earnest dissent frorrf]
the doctrine which is now not infrequently avowed, evenJ
from the pulpit, that any study of the Evidences of Re
ligion is unprofitable and vain. On the contrary, I be- l
lieve that there has seldom been a time when such study
has been more necessary than it is at the present day.
Religious fanaticism has given way to religious indiffer
ence ; the strife of sects with each other has somewhat
cooled, but the strife of opinions upon all the great sub
jects that are interesting to humanity is more active
and universal than ever. The thirst for innovation has
greatly increased, and all restraint upon speculation in
science, philosophy, politics, and social economy is
taken away. In France and Germany, at this hour,
[1849,] we see the mournful consequences of this chaotic
state~of public opinion, this upheaval of the foundations
of belief. The best minds of the former country are
even now engaged in an attempt to undo their own
work, and to resettle the belief of the people upon those
subjects in relation to which they had formerly conspired
to shake it. The philosophical party in the French In
stitute, after being at open war with the clergy for 3.1
century, are now zealously cooperating with them in the
endeavor to teach the fundamental truths of religion to
a deluded and exasperated people. If society in our
own country is not to experience a similar crisis, it must
be through the efforts of the educated laity, working in
concert with the clergy, to erect a barrier against the
licentious and infidel speculations which are pouring in
upon us from Europe like a flood. The time seems to
have arrived for a more practical and immediate verifi
cation than the world has ever yet witnessed of the
great truth, that the civilization which is not based upon
Christianity is big with the elements of its own destruc
tion.
CAMBRIDGE, January 10, 1855.
CONTENTS.
FIRST PART.
CHAPTER I.
FAGB
THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL
SCIENCE
CHAPTER II.
THIS DISTINCTION APPLIED TO PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY 25
CHAPTER III.
THE IDEA OP SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE ... 48
CHAPTER IV.
THE IDEA OF CAUSE, AND THE NATURE OF CAUSATION . . 71
CHAPTER V.
K , FATALISM AND FREEWILL . . 98
CHAPTER VI.
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY CONTINUED : REASONING
FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE . 123
<*)
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
ALL EVENTS IN THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE A PROOF OF THE
PRESENCE AND THE AGENCY OF GOD 146
CHAPTER VIII.
INFERENCES FROM THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE PHENOM
ENA OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE 173
CHAPTER IX.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN .
SECOND PART.
CHAPTER I.
THE HUMAN DISTINGUISHED FROM THE BRUTE MIND . . 223
CHAPTER II.
THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTIVITY IN HUMAN NATURE . * . 250
CHAPTER III.
THE NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF CONSCIENCE . t -v . . 275
CHAPTER IV.
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT . . . f . 296
CHAPTER V.
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW A REVELATION OF THE
CHARACTER OF THE DEITY : THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE
MORAL LAW 321
.
CONTENTS. XI
CHAPTER VI. A
THE GOODNESS OF GOD 345
CHAPTER VII.
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL 369
CHAPTER VIII.
THE UNITY OF GOD 393
CHAPTER IX.
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL CANNOT BE PROVED WITHOUT
THE AID OF REVELATION . . . . . . .417
CHAPTER X.
THE RELATION OF NATURAL TO REVEALED RELIGION . . 442
CHAPTER XI.
THE NATURE OF THE EVIDENCES OF A REVEALED RELIGION . 463
FIRST PART.
CHAPTER I.
THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL
SCIENCE.
Supposed conflicting claims of Philosophy and Religion.
According to a common opinion, Philosophy and Theology are
sister sciences, so closely allied that it is often difficult to make
k a distinction between them. Every person must hold some
opinions relative to each ; and these opinions form two mutually
dependent creeds, which may be, in a greater or less degree,
peculiar to himself, and of which the action and reaction are so
nearly equal, that it is often difficult to determine which is the
parent of the other. Every theory respecting the origin and
first principles of human knowledge must bear a close relation
to that subject in regard to which knowledge is of the highest
value, the doctrine of God, duty, and immortality. The
religion of the Greeks and Romans, so far as it existed in a
definite and consistent form, that is, as it was conceived by
enlightened and thinking men among them, was wholly drawn
from their philosophical tenets, or, more properly speaking, it
was identical with those tenets. And so it has been in modern
tunes. Skepticism in philosophy and skepticism in religion, if
not the same thing, at least usually go together.
1
2 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
This, I say, is the common view of the subject ; and we might
therefore well expect, what often happens, that the claims of the
two sciences, so called, should seriously conflict. Men are
drawn different ways by opposite fears, by their dread, on the
one hand, of an irreligious philosophy, and on the other, of an
unphilosophical religion. Loyalty to truth, which is the highest
claim that can be made upon human reason, is drawn into open
hostility with our sense of duty to God, which is the most awful
and imperative of all obligations. The course of the student of
science, the honest and sincere inquirer after knowledge, often
appears adverse or injurious to the feelings or the faith the
prejudices, if you like of the religious believer, the devout
worshipper of an Omnipotent Father and Friend. And even
where direct opposition is avoided, a disputed claim to prece
dence is set up, and sometimes brings with it an intolerable
burden of anxiety and doubt. On the one hand, it is maintained
that every religious creed must be tried at the bar of human
science, and its doctrines accepted or rejected according to their
agreement with the speculative dogmas which the unaided reason
has evolved as the limits and criteria of truth ; on the other, the
sacredness of the subject is unwarily held up to shield theology
from all investigation, and, not infrequently, discoveries in science
and theories in philosophy are denounced, if they are at va
riance with the supposed dictates of revelation.. If metaphys
ics are made a test of the truth of Christianity, it seems but
equal justice to make Christianity a test of the correctness of
metaphysics. Sometimes a compromise is proposed, which is
no less shocking to the feelings of the believer than a contume
lious rejection of his faith. Philosophy is represented as can
did and liberal ; as superseding religion, it is true, in the minds
of the cultivated and reflecting classes, but continuing to respect
it, as an imperfect likeness of itself, in the bulk of mankind.
According to this theory, there are many stages of progress for
the human intellect, and men pass on from religion to philoso
phy, as they do from barbarism to civilization.
Now, before conflicting claims like these can be reconciled, it
is necessary to get clearer ideas of the subjects of dispute, to
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 3
determine their respective boundaries, to see how far, if at all,
they encroach , upon each other, and, if possible, to settle the
logic of the inquiry. Perhaps it will be found, after all, that
the provinces of Philosophy and Theology are entirely distinct,
so that there is no proper interference, and no cause for contro
versy between them. To establish this point is the object of the
present chapter. We must begin with definitions, and if these
appear somewhat abstruse at first, I hope they will become
clearer as we go on.
Classification of the objects of Knowledge. The simplest, as
well as the most comprehensive, classification of all objects of
knowledge, is that which separates them into relations of ideas
and matters of fact. I borrow the language of him who was at
once the most subtile logician and the most consistent skeptic
of modern times : "All the objects of human reason or in
quiry," says Hume, " may naturally be divided into two kinds,
to wit, Relations of Ideas and Matters of fact." This coincides
very nearly with the familiar distinction between physics and
metaphysics, except that the meaning of the latter must be so
far extended as to embrace the cognate sciences of grammar,
logic, and mathematics. Stating the proposition in other words,
we say that all science may be reduced to two branches :
1. The study of things physical, or those which exist distinct
from our thoughts ; 2. The study of things metaphysical, or
those which do not exist apart from our thoughts.
No one can fail to see an essential difference between a fact
and an abstraction, or a pure idea, like that of cause, goodness,
power, existence, and the like. The former is an object of sense,
something which can be seen, heard, felt, or touched, whether
we have had sensible evidence of it ourselves, or rely upon the
testimony of others who have had such evidence, or infer its
existence from inductive reasoning, or from the presence of its
effects. The latter is a pure mental conception, which has no
existence except in relation to the mind which forms it. Such
conceptions are called realities only by a figure of speech ; they
are so called to mark our strong sense of the correctness with
which a, certain quality is attributed to a substance or an action.
4 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
Thus, virtue is said, figuratively, to be a reality, only to mark
our firm belief that there are such things as virtuous actions.
In this class must be ranked all the abstractions of the geome
ter and the algebraist. There are no such things in nature as
circles and triangles ; the only proper realities are circular ob
jects and triangular objects.
Two classes of matters of fact. But the nature of these ab
stractions may be most clearly apprehended by considering,
in the first place, what we mean by matters of fact. These
may be distinguished into things which exist, and events which
take place. All the objects of natural history and physical
science stones, shells, plants, and animals are ranked in
the former class; all the laws, so called, of physical science,
the laws of motion, for instance, all the habits observed
by the naturalist, such as the modes of growth and reproduc
tion of plants and animals, are comprehended in the latter.
Both alike are matters of fact. It is a fact that the earth ex
ists, or is ; it is equally a fact that the earth moves. That there
is a sun in the heavens is a fact of one order ; that this sun
illumines objects on the earth is a fact of a different order, it
is an event which takes place. We have sensible evidence "of
both.*
Mode of inquiry and reasoning about abstract ideas. I am
dwelling too long, perhaps, on a very familiar distinction;
but it is one that is fundamental to the present inquiry, which
cannot proceed without the fullest and clearest comprehen
sion of it. These two classes, which comprehend all objects
of knowledge, are distinguished from each other, not merely by
the broad and obvious lines of distinction inherent in their na
ture, which have been already explained, but by radical differ
ences in the modes of inquiry and reasoning which are respectively
* " The communication of this kind of knowledge," says Whateley, " is
most usually, and most strictly, called information. We gain it from
observation and from testimony. No mere internal workings of our own minds
(except when the mind itself is the very object to be observed), or mere
discussions in words, will make zfact known to us." Logic, p. 268.
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 5
applicable to them. The relations of ideas that is, of abstrac
tions, or pure ideas are made known to us by intuition or re
flection ; and reasoning about them proceeds by the demonstra
tive method, the conclusions at which we arrive being absolutely
certain. According to the absolute laws of the human under
standing, I speak it reverently, it is not within the power
of Omnipotence to disprove these results, or even to render them
doubtful. Their falsity would involve a contradiction ; to main
tain that they are untrue, is to say, that it is possible for a thing
to be and not to be at one and the same moment. All the truths
of pure mathematics, pure. logic, and pure reason are metaphys
ical truths, and we can no more doubt them than we can ques
tion the accuracy of the multiplication table. Their falsity is
inconceivable. This attribute of logical certainty proceeds from
the pure, abstract, and perfectly simple or uncompounded nature
of the ideas which enter into such reasoning. These ideas are
pure creations of the intellect ; in their uncompounded and ab
stract character, they are not derived from observation, and are
therefore not perverted by that great source of error, the imper
fection of our senses, or the limitations of our power of percep
tion. When we entertain these ideas, or reason about them,
the mind is closed to all outward impressions, and freed even
from the memory of their former occurrence.* The ideas that
are contemplated, then, are contemplated in their entireness ; for,
being uncompounded, if they are apprehended at all, they must
be perfectly apprehended, and consequently the relations between
them are discerned at once, or by intuition. Demonstrative
reasoning proceeds by a series of such intuitions, and hence the
absolute character of its results. If the chain of such reasoning
be too far extended, indeed, without a system of notation, the
# "A clever man," says Sir J. Herschel, " shut up alone, and allowed
all unlimited time, might reason out for himself all the truths of mathe
matics, by proceeding from those simple notions of space and number of
which he cannot divest himself without ceasing to think ; but he could
never tell by any effort of reasoning, what would become of a lump of
sugar if immersed in water, or what effect would be produced on his eye
by mixing the colors yellow and blue."
1*
6 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
imperfections of memory may come in, some steps may be for
gotten, and mistakes will be committed. But this cause of
error never affects a simple intuition, or a step in the process
when taken by itself. Here the certainty is absolute.
Mode of inquiry and reasoning about matters of fact. Now,
what is the method of inquiry or procedure for the other class
of objects of knowledge, for matters of fact ? We enter upon
totally different ground here. Instead of abstractions, we have
realities ; instead of shutting out sensible evidence altogether,
we are obliged to rely upon it exclusively; instead of intuitions,
we have observations and experiments ; instead of demonstra
tion, we have induction ; instead of the objects of inquiry being
perfectly simple and uncompounded, they are made up of an
unknown and unknowable number of elements and qualities ;
arid instead of arriving at conclusions which are absolutely true,
we gain those only which are morally certain. I speak now of
both kinds of matters of fact, both of things which exist, and
of events which take place. The imperfections of the senses
come in here to their full extent, as causes of possible error.
The objects of physical science must always be imperfectly known ;
we never can be sure that our analysis of them is complete, or
that our observation has taken in all their outward qualities.
The attractive power of the loadstone was known for ages
before its attribute of polarity was discovered ; yet what is
apparently more simple and obvious than this quality, which
can be detected at once by floating a magnet on a piece of cork
in a basin of water ? Down to the times of Watt and Cavendish,
water was supposed to be a simple element, and it figures as
such in some of the most remarkable of the ancient theories of
cosmogony ; these chemists, about a century ago, discovered
that it was compounded of two gases. But it is useless to mul
tiply instances. The chemist will tell you that it is not impos
sible, that it is even probable, that every one of the sixty sub
stances now counted as elementary will ultimately be decom
posed. Of course, the vast number of compounded objects of
which Natural History takes cognizance are still more imper
fectly known in their qualities and relations, than those substances
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 7
which, as yet, are reckoned elementary. This limited acquaint
ance with the subjects of investigation must lead only to qual
ified, and, in the logical meaning of the term., uncertain, conclu
sions respecting them.
If this is the case with things which exist, it holds still more
obviously true of events which take place. Our knowledge of
past events depends either on memory., with its acknowledged
manifold defects, or on the testimony of others, with the multi
plied causes which bring either their intelligence or their veracity
into doubt. As to future occurrences, the field of positive sci
ence is yet more limited ; the truth of every proposition respect
ing them depends on the axiom, that the course of nature is
uniform, and under similar circumstances we may look for simi
lar effects. Now, in the first place, we never can be sure that
the circumstances are perfectly similar ; and, secondly, the truth
of the axiom itself depends wholly on empirical evidence. It
is possible, that is, it is conceivable, that the sun may not rise
to-morrow ; but it is not conceivable that two and two should
make five, or that a straight line should not be the shortest dis
tance between two points. The laws of motion are instances of
the highest generalization and of the most cautious and rigid
induction, which the whole field of physical science can afford ;
but what assurance have we that these laws will hold good for V
one moment beyond the present time ? Obviously, we can have
only a moral certainty of their future operation ; intuition or
demonstration is here out of the question.
The two methods afford equally safe grounds of belief. There
is, then, a radical difference, or a difference in kind, between
the two methods of investigation which are applicable respec
tively to physical and to metaphysical science. But so far as
the truth of the conclusions, in either case, is concerned, this
difference is not one of degree ; our conviction is just as firm in
the one case as in the other. No one complains of the insuffi
ciency of the evidence on which rest all the truths of physical
science and all the facts of history. Our persuasion of the
reality of our past experience, and of the truths which depend
on that experience, would not be affected, certainly would not
8 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
be increased in the slightest degree, by a technical demonstra
tion of that reality or of those truths. In fact, the theorems of
geometry are received, and practically applied, by multitudes
who are incapable of demonstrating them. The carpenter, for
instance, makes almost daily use of the forty-fifth proposition of
Euclid, though he is not usually able to supply the steps of
its logical proof; he knows that it is correct by the results of
his application of it, and because he is told that others have
demonstrated it, and that he could easily follow out the demon
stration himself, if he were to give the requisite time and atten
tion to the process. The mariner, also, steers his ship by the
aid of his Practical Navigator and Nautical Almanac, though
he cannot give the rationale of one of his own calculations.
Instruct him in this respect, teach him trigonometry enough to
demonstrate the rules of plain sailing, and you will enlarge the
sphere of his ideas and add to his sources of intellectual enjoy
ment ; but you will not increase by one iota the strength of his
belief in the correctness of the processes.* The moral evidence
* Mr. Stewart remarks, that the mathematician himself is obliged to
admit the evidence of testimony while engaged in his most abstruse investi
gations. " In astronomical calculations, for example, how few are the
instances in which the data rest on the evidence of our own senses ; and
yet our confidence in the result is not, on that account, in the smallest de
gree weakened. On the contrary, what certainty can be more complete
than that with which we look forward to an eclipse of the sun or the
moon, on the faith of elements and of computations which we have never
verified, and for the accuracy of which we have no ground of assurance
whatever, but the scientific reputation of the writers from whom we have
borrowed them. An astronomer who should affect any scepticism with
respect to an event so predicted, would render himself no less an object of
ridicule, than if he were disposed to cavil about the certainty of the sun s
rising to-morrow.
" Even in pure mathematics, a similar regard to testimony, accompanied
with a similar faith in the faculties of others, is by no means uncommon.
Who would scruple, in a geometrical investigation, to adopt as a link in
the chain, a theorem of Apollonius or of Archimedes, although he might
not have leisure at the moment to satisfy himself, by an actual examination
of their demonstrations, that they had been guilty of no paralogism, either
from accident or design, in the course of their reasonings ? "
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 9
on which it formerly rested in his mind was sufficient; the
strength of the conviction produced by it could not be increased.
It is more pertinent to my present object to remark, that the
conduct of human beings is governed exclusively by the evidence
and the reasoning which are applicable to matters of fact, or, in
other words, by experience. It is the only proof they have that
food will nourish, fire burn, or Avater drown them, that any
place exists which they have never visited, or that any person
lives with whom they have not conversed. These contingent
truths enter into all our inferences from the past, and all our
calculations for the future ; man s life is guided by them, from
the cradle to the grave. If it be objected to this view, that our
convictions of duty are intuitive, and therefore absolute, I an
swer, that duty relates only to motives and a choice of ends ;
action is always a use ..of means, and the selection of means is
the work of experience. The moral law, for instance, bids me
cultivate honest and humane intentions towards my fellow man ;
how those intentions shall be most properly manifested in out
ward conduct, is a question for the intellect, and one that can be
answered only by the lessons of experience. The sense of ob
ligation stops short with the active intent.
The logic of physical and metaphysical inquiry. Here, then,
we rest the basis of our inquiry. All objects of human knowledge
are divided into two classes, perfectly distinguishable from each
other ; a distinct method of investigation, and a peculiar logic, or
reasoning process, being appropriate to each. The conclusions
at which we arrive in the two cases are equally well founded,
equally deserving of confidence ; but they differ widely in the
kind or character of the conviction on which they rest, and in the
nature of the process by which they were obtained.
Evil of confounding the two methods. My next proposition
is, that these two modes of inquiry are not interchangeable, but
confusion, uncertainty, and error invariably result from mistak
ing one for the other, or from attempting to extend the limits of
either beyond its proper province. Matters of fact cannot be
demonstrated ; the attempt at a demonstration leads directly to
that insane skepticism which teaches us to distrust or reject all
10 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
experience. The relations of pure ideas cannot be ascertained
by the inductive method; they can neither be proved by testi
mony, nor learned from experiment and observation. The trial
of these inadequate media of proof tends only to deprive the
soul of its highest convictions, and terminates in a mean and
shallow empiricism. The history of science, from the earliest
period down to the present day, affords numberless illustrations
of the evil of confounding these two methods. The physical
inquiries of the ancients were all fruitless, because their false
notions of the dignity of science made them despise particulars
and begin with general ideas, from which, by logical deduction,
they hoped to obtain all special truths ; that is, from abstractions
they sought to infer matters of fact, and thus to change the labor
of the inquirer from observation to reflection. Their physics
were all metaphysics. " The early philosophers of Greece,"
says Dr. Whewell, " entered upon the work of physical specula
tion in a manner which showed the vigor and confidence of the
questioning spirit, as yet untamed by labors and reverses. It
was for later ages to learn, that man must acquire, slowly and
patiently, letter by letter, the alphabet in which nature writes
her answers to such inquiries ; the first students wished to di
vine, at a single glance, the whole import of the book." As
their first inquiry, they endeavored to discover the origin and
principle of the universe. Thales maintained that it was water ;
according to another, it was air ; while a third considered fire
as the origin of all things. This last hypothesis, it may be re
marked, has been revived by a popular cosmogonist * of our
own day, who has found the seminal principle of all things, in
cluding the various ranks of animate being, the body, and even
the soul, of man, in a primitive fiery mist. These wide and
ambitious doctrines, it has been well remarked, are "better
suited to the dim magnificence of poetry, than to the purpose of
a philosophy which was to bear the sharp scrutiny of reason.
When we speak of the principles of things, the term, even now,
* The author of the Vestiges of Creation.
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 11
is very ambiguous and indefinite in its import ; but how much
more was that the case in the first attempts to use such abstrac
tions!"
Error of the Schoolmen. The history of physical science, as
it was studied by the schoolmen during the Middle Ages, is
quite as unsatisfactory as the record of its treatment by the
ancients. Logic, which I have ventured to class with the meta
physical sciences, because it is exclusively concerned with the
relations of ideas, or with abstractions of the highest order, now
claimed the chief attention in the schools. There were two
reasons for giving it this preference : first, because it was held,
as before, that all knowledge might be deduced from general ideas,
so as to avoid the necessity of studying nature or observing
particulars ; and secondly, because it was believed that the an
cients had already exhausted the inquiry and completed the
work, so that all truth might be ascertained, and all controversies
terminated, by a right interpretation of the works of Aristotle
and his commentators, this interpretation being governed, of
course, by the rules of a sound logic. The scholastics held,
" that all science may be obtained by the use of reasoning
alone, that by analyzing and combining the notions which
common language brings before us, we may learn all that we
can know." The fallacy of this, it has been well remarked,
consists in mistaking the universality of the theory of language
for the generalization of facts. All words, excepting proper
names, denote either general conceptions or abstract ideas ; and
the study of the relations of words is therefore a study of the
relations of ideas, and must proceed by the former of the two
methods which we have been considering, that is, by intuition
and demonstration.
This method barren of results. We might well expect that
physical science, or the study of matters of fact, when pursued
by this method, would produce only nugatory or profitless re
sults. It has been stated on high authority, that not one step
had really been taken in physical science down to the period of
the Revival of Letters ; not a foot of ground had been gained
12 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
by the labors of more than two thousand years.* This state
ment is perhaps too strong; for something was undoubtedly
accomplished in astronomy by Hipparchus and Ptolemy, some*
thing in natural history by such observers as Aristotle, Theo-
phrastus, and Pliny, while the medical profession, even at the
present day, does not wholly repudiate the authority of Hippoc
rates and Galen. But how little real progress the human mind
had made during this long lapse of centuries, may be correctly
inferred from the round of studies pursued at the Universities ;
the course of seven sciences, included under the fantastic names
of the trivium and the quadrivium, comprised grammar, logic,
and rhetoric, together with arithmetic, geometry, music, and
astronomy. Of these, only the last can be ranked among the
physical sciences, as music was then only an art which had not
been reduced to its scientific principles. The others are all
metaphysical in character, and the only organon, or method of
investigation, which was then in use, being appropriate to these,
the success with which they were cultivated affords a striking
contrast to the barrenness of physical inquiry. Logic came
almost perfect from the hands of him who may be called its
inventor. Sir William Hamilton, the most accomplished logi
cian of our own day, asserts distinctly, that there has been,
" in fact, no progress made in the general development of the
* " Of the criteria for guiding our judgment among so many different
and discordant schools, there is none more to be relied on than that which
is exhibited in their fruits ; for the fruits of any speculative doctrine, or the
inventions which it has really produced, are, as it were, sponsors or vouch
ers for the truths which it contains. Now, it is well known, that from the
philosophy of the Greeks, with its numerous derivative schools, hardly one
experimental discovery can be collected which has any tendency to aid or
ameliorate the condition of man, or which is entitled to rank with the ac
knowledged principles of genuine science. Wherefore, as in religion, faith
is proved by its works, so in philosophy, it were to be wished, that those
theories should be accounted vain, which, when tried by their fruits, are
barren ; much more those which, instead of grapes and olives, have pro
duced only thorns and thistles of controversy." Bacon s Nov. Org. Aph.
Ixxiii.
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 13
syllogism since the time of Aristotle." The case of mathe
matics is nearly as strong, the geometry of Euclid and Archim
edes being still the boast of the science. These were the
results of applying the appropriate mode of reasoning to the
metaphysical sciences, or those which are concerned exclusively
with the relations of ideas ; while the inappropriateness of this
same mode of reasoning to physical science, that is, to matters
of fact, is proved by the almost total failure of all attempts in
this department for more than twenty centuries.
Rapid progress of physical science after the Baconian reform.
It is not necessary to dwell here on so familiar a history as
that of the sudden rise and extraordinary development of phys
ical science at the close of the sixteenth century. The rapid
succession of brilliant discoveries made by Galileo, Stevinus,
and Gilbert, was in itself a proof that they had at length hit
upon the true method of physical investigation, just before the
illustrious Englishman himself hardly capable of reducing
any one of his own rules successfully to practice, but gifted
with an intellect no less clear and penetrating than compre
hensive and profound, and with a sagacity and hopefulness
which unrolled before him the history of the future triumphs of
science almost as distinctly as the record of its past defeats
supplied the rationale of this method, reduced it to a complete
system, and evolved and stated with wonderful precision the
rules for its successful use, in those immortal works which have
gained for him the deserved title of Father of the Inductive
Philosophy. To say that the inductive method was practised
in some cases before the time of Bacon, is about as idle as to
assert that men sometimes reasoned correctly before Aristotle
wrote his Logic ; though the assertion in the former case is not
true to the same extent as in the latter, since the latter half of
the century in which Bacon was born, though not that in which
his principal works were published, witnessed the first successful
application of this method to physical science. The merit of
these two great men is of the same order ; each wrought out
with scientific precision and completeness the logic of discovery
and proof in one of the two great departments of human knowl-
2
14 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
edge. The one taught us the theory of reasoning syllogisticali^
or to a demonstration, about the relations of ideas ; the other
showed us the theory of reasoning inductively from matters of
fact.
Corruption of metaphysical science by the inductive method.
The extraordinary success of physical inquiry after Bacon s
time tended naturally to the depression, and somewhat to the
injury or corruption, of abstract science. The undue extension
of the inductive method to the region of pure ideas produced
the ethical system of Hobbes, himself a friend and disciple of
the great master, but whose philosophy is now a byword from-
its degrading principles, and its tendencies to selfishness iu
morals, to materialism in philosophy, and to despotism in poli
tics. Among his successors may be counted Mandeville, " the
buffoon and sophister of the ale-house," and the English school
of deists of the early part of the last century, including Boling-
broke, the friend and philosophical instructor of Pope. From
him his satirical pupil learned to sneer at the metaphysicians
of the older school,, who, in the Universities or the Church, dis
trustful of the tendencies of modern physical science, and per
haps ignorant alike of its principles and its practice, still kept
up their fondness for ancient and abstract learning.
A later instance of the erroneous application of the method
of physical inquiry to metaphysical subjects may be found in
the writings of the celebrated David Hartley, who endeavored
to account for the course and association of our ideas by vibra
tions and vibratiuncles in the medullary substance of the brain.
Of the same school was Dr. Priestley, whose just fame for his
brilliant discoveries in natural science inclines one to speak ten
derly of his philosophical speculations, though his habits, formed
in the laboratory and other schools of experimental investiga
tion, betrayed him into the avowed support of materialism, and
of what he calls the doctrine of "philosophical necessity." The
influence of the same cause of error may be traced in the works
of the French philosophers, so called, of the last century, espec
ially in those of Helvetius, Volney, D Holbach, and Condillac.
Helvetius, for instance, refusing to receive any other evidence
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 15.
than that of the senses, tracing all ideas to this source, and as
suming the inductive method to be the only guide to knowledge,
can find no cause for the superiority of man over the brute, ex
cept that the human hand is a more convenient instrument than
the foot of a quadruped, which terminates in horn, nails, or
claws. " The life of animals, in general," he observes, " being
of a shorter duration than that of man, does not permit them to
make so many observations, or to acquire so many ideas ; and
animals, being better armed and better clothed by nature than
the human species, have fewer wants, and consequently fewer
motives to stimulate or exercise their invention. Who can
doubt, then," he triumphantly asks, " that if the wrist of a man
had been terminated by the hoof of a horse, the species would
still have been wandering in the forest?"
Such vagaries of speculation are not a whit more respectable
than the opposite errors of the schoolmen, who sought to inter
pret nature by the relations of abstract ideas, or, in other words,
to ascertain facts by the aid of a transcendental logic. It would
be very unjust to accuse the inductive method of leading to these
gross blunders, which have arisen solely from a misapplication
of that method, from an extension of it to a province which it
was never formed to govern, namely, the region of pure mental
conceptions. We shall be likely to avoid both causes of error
by keeping constantly in view the axiom, that the methods, as
well as the objects, of physical and of metaphysical inquiry are
radically different. We never can demonstrate a matter of fact ;
we can have no sensible evidence of the relations of abstract
ideas. There is no question of dignity between the two meth
ods ; each is sovereign in its own sphere. There is no superi
ority of the one kind of evidence over the other, when considered
as a foundation of belief ; both lead to positive and well-found
ed convictions.
Confusion of the two methods in our own times. The latest
historian of the Inductive Sciences is not satisfied with this ex
clusion of metaphysical ideas from the domain of physical in
vestigation ; his work upon the Philosophy of these sciences,
which is an elaborate attempt to enlarge the inductive method
16 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
by the doctrines, and to clothe it in the terminology, of Kantian
metaphysics, is a yirtual restoration of the scholastic method, or
the philosophy of the Middle Ages, and must be considered as
" a remarkable instance of what has been aptly called the pe
culiar zest which the reaction against modern tendencies gives
to the revival of ancient absurdities." When Dr. Whewell, in
his glowing admiration of the brilliant discoveries recently made
in natural science, expresses his confident hope * that the mere
physical inquirer will soon pass on from a determination of the
laws of phenomena to a knowledge of the efficient causes of these
phenomena, and gives, as a reason for this expectation, the light
that has recently been thrown upon the action of polar forces,
one may be permitted to doubt whether he knows the meaning
of the words he uses, or is able to distinguish efficient from oc
casional causes. A far more cautious thinker, Mr. John Stuart
Mill, in his zeal for inductive logic, falls into an error of the
opposite character, by boldly taking up the doctrine, that even
the axioms of the mathematician are but generalizations from
experience, that there is no distinction between necessary truths
and facts of observation, and, consequently, that the reasonings
of the geometer do not differ in kind from the inductions of the
optician or the chemist. It is hardly necessary to say, that the
common opinion of the scientific world lies between the extreme
doctrines maintained respectively by these two theorists.
The case of the Mixed Sciences considered. The case of the
Mixed Sciences deserves consideration here, as it really corrobo
rates the principles that have been advanced, though it may
appear at first sight to conflict with them. Pure logic and pure
mathematics are not so much sciences, as methods of scientific
inquiry, or organa of investigation and proof. They are modes
of reasoning, irrespective of the subjects or facts which we reason
* Nay, more ; he does not merely hope. If language rightly conveys his
meaning, he believes the thing has been done. He says, " Newton then dis
covered, not merely a law of phenomena, but a true cause; and therefore he was
the greatest of discoverers ! " Greatest indeed ; if this assertion were true,
he was divine. Phil, of the Inductive Sciences, 2d ed., Vol. II. p. 323.
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 17
about, and therefore applicable to all subjects. In the syllogism,
for instance, the conclusion follows with absolute certainty from
the premises, the truth of the premises being presupposed;
whether this truth rests upon sensible evidence, or intuition, or
a previous demonstration, is of no consequence. The principles
of the syllogism, then, are pure abstractions ; and the letters of
the alphabet, or purely arbitrary marks taken as signs of any
ideas or facts whatsoever, are the most convenient notation for
expressing them. If the premises are matters of fact, or con
tingent truth, the conclusion will also be a matter of fact, or
contingent truth ; only the relation between premises and con
clusion is a metaphysical truth, and as such is made known by
intuition.
Pure mathematics never lead to a discovery of matters of fact.
The case is precisely similar with mathematics, in which we
employ a notation of the same sort. In its pure form, this
science proceeds from abstraction to abstraction, the truth de
veloped by it having no foundation in fact, and never being
exemplified in the external world. If an event in the physical
world, or a proposition founded on experience, be taken as a
datum, or point of departure for the inquiry, however long the
chain of mathematical reasoning may be which proceeds from
it, the result at which we arrive is a truth of the same order
with the one which formed the basis of the investigation. It
has lost nothing, and it has gained nothing, in point of logical
certainty, through the process to which it has been subjected.
Take, for instance, the most brilliant achievement that is re
corded in the whole history of mathematical science, the
recent discovery, by Adams and Leverrier, of a new orb on the
further verge of our planetary system. Its existence was long
before suspected, for it was said that its influence had been felt
trembling along the far-extended line of our delicate analysis.
But how was this influence detected ? It was through repeated
observations, made by the telescope, of certain irregularities in
the motion of Uranus, observations so delicate, and irregu
larities so slight, that many years elapsed before it could be
said with certainty that the latter were real, or before they
2*
18 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
could be measured so nicely as to afford a basis for the calcula
tions which were to reveal the mass and the position of the
body that caused them ; I say the mass and the position, for
the general fact of the existence of such a body was inferred at
once, by strict induction, from the mere knowledge that there
were such irregularities.
A boat, moored at night by the side of a placid stream, sud
denly heaves and oscillates as a few slight ripples move over
the surface of the waters ; and the watcher in that little boat,
though he can descry nothing in the darkness, knows at once
that some large object not far off is passing up or down the
river, and throwing off those waves which extend obliquely
from its wake. Had he instruments nice enough to measure
the exact size and force of these ripples, and the aid of an em
pirical law, like that of Bode, to teach him that the object could
move only through a certain channel at a known distance from
him, he might calculate the size and exact position of the
moving mass, so as to turn his night-glass directly upon it.
This is precisely what was done by Adams and Leverrier.
The calculation alone was mathematical ; the existence of the
new planet had previously been made known by induction, and
the data used by the computers were all observed facts. And
it was not the mathematical process which afforded any new evi
dence, or added to the convictions of astronomers that a hitherto
unobserved planet rolled beyond the path of Uranus. The cal
culations left this supposed fact precisely where it was before,
with the exact measure or kind of certainty which belongs to a
truth of induction .* The crowning labor of the whole, the real
discovery, which, in legal phrase, changed circumstantial to
direct evidence, was made when Challis at Cambridge and
Galle at Berlin turned their telescopes to the region indicated,
* " Calculation," says Dugald Stewart, " is certainly not an instrument
of discovery at all analogous to experiment and observation ; it can ac
complish nothing in the study of nature till they have supplied the mate
rials ; and is indeed only one of the arts by which we are enabled to give
a greater degree of accuracy to their results."
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 19
and actually saw the new orb which was causing this ripple in
the heavens. In what sense, or with what color of reasoning,
then, can it be said that moral evidence, the testimony of the
senses, is inferior in degree to mathematical certainty ?
Mixed clmracter of ethical science. It would not be difficult,
in the case of any of the Mixed Sciences, to separate demonstra
tive from empirical truths, by simply inquiring whether the
terms of the proposition express abstract or concrete ideas.
Ethical science has this mixed character, quite as much so as
Mechanics. Casuistry consists in the application of the general
and abstract principles of ethics to particular cases ; and here,
from the difficulty of getting at or expressing all the facts in
the case, doubt comes in. If I say, that veracity u a duty of
paramount obligation, I affirm what no human being, in the full
possession of his reason, will dare to deny, any more than to
question the conclusions of the geometer. But if informed, on
some express occasion, that I am bound to tell the whole truth to
a sick person, or a madman, I demur ; here is a particular case,
and all the attendant circumstances must be noted ; it seems
necessary to inquire what are the motives for giving intelligence
to such a person, and what will be the probable consequences of
imparting to him the whole truth. I do not undertake to decide
the point ; moralists differ about it ; and this difference is quite
enough for my purpose, which is to show, that whenever we
come down from the abstract to the concrete, doubts may rca-
sonabty and righteously be entertained. We have left the re
gion of abstract truths, of intuition and demonstration, and come
down to a practical application, to the world of realities, where
a different method must be pursued; we must here observe
facts, weigh probabilities, estimate consequences, and bring all
the resources of the inductive logic into play. Let it not be
said, that this is removing the certainty of moral obligation to a
point whence it can never actually guide the conduct of men.
In vastly the greater number of instances, the light which ob
servation and experience afford for the application of the rule is
quite as clear and convincing as the boasted demonstration which
supports tJie abstract principle ; and in the few remaining cases,
20 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
as the moral law relates exclusively to motives, there is no dan
ger of fatal error.
Ultraism and fanaticism traced to the abuse of abstract prin
ciples. And herein, as it seems to me, is one great cause of
the abuse of general principles in morals, politics, and jurispru
dence, and of the intolerable evils which are occasioned by
\ fanaticism of belief and a reckless ultraisrn. It may be granted
that the abstract principle, the grand object in view, is one of
awful and imperative obligation, overriding all considerations
of personal interest, and needing to be prosecuted with a mar
tyr s zeal, perhaps even to a martyr s fate. But this admis
sion does not justify me, on a particular occasion, in shutting
my eyes and rushing at that object like a mad bull, careless of
the injury or ruin that I may cause, or of the other duties that
I may trample down in my path. The question respecting the
validity of the principle is totally distinct from that which con
cerns the choice of means, of the time and manner of carrying it
into effect. The former is determined by intuition, by " the
inner light/ if you will, by the candle which the Lord hath
set up in every unperverted conscience, lighting him on to that
clear, absolute, and immediate conviction which knows no
doubt, and quails not at any personal sacrifice. The latter is
to be settled by careful and anxious observation of the particu
lar circumstances of the case, by a cautious induction of exam
ples illustrating consequences, by examining needfully and rev
erently all the other duties that may possibly be violated by
our conduct. If this scrutiny be neglected, not even the glory
of self sacrifice will avail to cover up the awful error, except,
perhaps, in our own esteem. Omitting this, though the zealot
should follow his principles even to the scaffold or the stake, his
name shall not be encircled with the glory of a martyr, but it
shall be said of him, that he " died as the fool dieth."
In what proportions demonstrative reasoning is applicable to
the various Mixed Sciences. Coming back for a moment to
the main subject of discussion, it may be observed, that the pecu
liar clearness and force of demonstrative reasoning seem to depend
on that perfect knowledge of the subjects of inquiry, which results
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 21
from their simplicity or uncompounded character. In the sci
ence of Medicine, at least in the therapeutical branch of it, we
need to know many or all of the qualities and constituents of
very complex objects, the medicinal qualities of the drugs,
the peculiarities of the patient s constitution, and the circum
stances of the moment, which may greatly modify the action of
the former upon the latter. Obviously, this is the business of
sheer empiricism, being in many instances no better than guess
work.* In Chemistry, we go a step higher, as it is necessary
to attend, at most, to the qualities or elements of but one class
of objects ; still, we never can know that the analysis is com
plete, or the observation perfect, and are therefore obliged to
grope our way by experiment and very limited induction, per
haps never establishing a universal principle by a priori evi
dence. In the science of Mechanics, we make a great advance,
as many abstractions are employed, friction, the rigidity of ma
terials, and the resistance of the air, being generally put aside ;
mathematical reasoning here comes into play, which had no
application in the former sciences, and our conclusions are
more abstract, more general, and therefore less practically avail
able.^ In Celestial Mechanics, it happens curiously, that the
* " The evidence on which the physician proceeds," says Dugald Stew
art, " so far as it rests on experience, is weakened or destroyed by the
uncertain condition of every new case to which his former results are to
be applied. Without a peculiar sagacity and discrimination in marking
not only the resembling, but the characteristical, feature of disorders classed
under the same technical name, his practice cannot be said with propriety
to be guided by any one rational principle of decision, but merely by blind
and random conjecture."
t " That practical science which relates to the strength of materials,"
for instance, " combines the principles of several sciences. Let the prob
lem be, to determine the necessary breadth and depth of the girder of a
floor, that shall sustain a given weight, the length of the span also being
given. Now, these dimensions are not to be found without having re
course, first, to the higher mathematics, or those purely abstract truths
which are independent of all the laws of the actual world, and which
would be what they are, although there were no such principle as gravi
tation, or no material system. In the next place, this law of gravitation
22 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
abstractions are, as it were, ready-made by nature, gravitation
being the sole quality that it is necessary to take into view.
Friction, the rigidity of materials, and a resisting medium
though of this last there may be some doubt are eliminated
by the nature of the case ; the problem is complicated only by
the gravitating effect of different bodies on each other. Our
conclusions are very general, then, but also very limited, as they
relate exclusively to position and motion. Astronomy, it was
remarked many years ago, is a perfect science ; and so it is,
the theory of it, though the improvement of instruments is daily
bringing to light new facts.
Thus it appears, that we approximate the sphere of meta
physical evidence and demonstrative reasoning just in propor
tion as we leave the world of realities and facts, and abandon
the consideration of objects in their entireness, or in all thf.ir
relations.*
must be understood, in order to find the point of the strain, as well as the
true proportion between depth and breadth. And, lastly, the peculiar prop
erties of the several species of timber must be precisely known, and known
by experiment ; . . . and it is not the mathematician, but the naturalist, who
must inform the practical man on these points."
" Now, let it, in these cases, be supposed that the mathematician, dogmat
ically confident of his demonstrations, (and this is in fact the fault of the
earlier mathematicians, and not seldom of Leibnitz,) to determine the
problem above mentioned, as if it were a pure abstraction; or, if he referred
loosely to certain vulgar facts concerning the strength of timber, were nei
ther to make experiments of this physical kind, nor to swerve at all from
his mathematical processes in regard to them: in this case, all his pro
ducts must be erroneous. Or, though correct mathematically, they would be
inapplicable to the real world, and useless, or worse than useless, in prac
tice." Isaac Taylor s Introduction to Edwards on the Will, p. cxxxiii.
* Every one would wish to speak of Dr. Whewell with the respect which
is required by his encyclopaedic learning, his indefatigable activity of
mind, and the zealous devotion of all his powers to the best interests of
science and education. But it has been wittily said of him, that " his forte
is science, and his foible is omniscience." It is to be wished that he had
let metaphysics alone, and had contented himself with the glory of master
ing, and doing something to improve, every one of the Inductive Sciences.
His great work on these sciences contains, along with many ingenious
disquisitions and a prodigious amount of learning, a great deal of bad phi-
PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 23
iosophy. He seriously undertakes to prove, that Astronomy and Me
chanics are not Mixed, but Pure Sciences ; that the data on which they
rest, as well as the steps of reasoning by which they proceed, a re intui
tions of pure reason, independent of all experience ; that gravity, for in
stance, is a necessary and inherent quality of matter, like extension and
figure, a doctrine which Newton himself emphatically disavows ; and
that the three primary laws of motion, in like manner, are not general
facts, made known by induction, but are original and necessary truths, not
evolved out of experience, but first revealed by careful study and re
flection upon the train of our ideas. He thus binds himself to prove, (to
adopt Sir J. Herschel s illustration,) that a clever man, shut up alone,
might work out for himself, by dint of hard thinking, the whole Principia
of Newton, without any aid from experiment and observation. These
heresies have been sufficiently and sharply reproved by Sir William Ham
ilton, Mr. Mansei, (the author of Prolegomena Logica,) and, in advance, by
Dugald Stewart. /Hamilton- argues thus :
" Dr. Wh ewell asserts", r that such propositions do not depend at all upon
experience. On the contrary, I maintain that all propositions which in
volve the notion of gravitation, weight, pressure, presuppose experience ;
for by experience alone do we become aware, that there is such a quale
and quantum in the universe. To think it existent, there is no necessity
of thought ; for we can easily in thought conceive the particles of matter,
(whatever these may be) indifferent to each other, nay, endowed with a
mutually repulsive, instead of a mutually attractive force. We can even, in
thought, annihilate matter itself. So far, the asserted axiom is merely a
derived, and that too merely an empirical, proposition. But, moreover,
not only are we dependent on experience for the fact of the existence of
gravitation, etc., we are also indebted to observation for the further facts
of the uniform and continuous operation of that force ; and thus, in a second
(and even third) potence, are all such propositions dependent upon expe
rience."
But Dr. Whewell remarks, if it be said that we cannot have the idea of
pressure without the use of the senses, and this is experience, the same
may be said of our ideas of relation in space ; and thus Geometry, no less
than Mechanics, depends upon experience in this sense.
Hamilton replies, " This is only another instance of confusion of thought
and ignorance of the subject. The ideas of relation in space and the ideas
of pressure differ obtrusively in this : that we can, in thought, easily an
nul pressure, all the properties of matter, and even matter itself; but are
wholly unable to think away from space and its relations. The latter are
conditions of, the former are educts from, experience ; and it is this differ
ence of their object-matters, which constitutes Geometry and Arithmetic
pure or a priori sciences, and Mechanics a science empirical, or a poste
riori."
Mr. Stewart, in animadverting upon the error into which Dr. Whewell
24 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE.
has since fallen, has pointed out very clearly the bias of mind in which, it
has its origin. "As the study of the mechanical philosophy," he observes,
" is, in a great measure, inaccessible to those who have not received a regu
lar mathematical education, it commonly happens, that a taste for it is,
in the first instance, grafted on a previous attachment to the researches of
pure or abstract mathematics. Hence a natural and insensible transfer
ence to physical pursuits, of mathematical habits of thinking ; and hence
an almost unavoidable propensity to give to the former science that sys
tematical connection in all its various conclusions which, from the nature
of its first principles, is essential to the latter, but which can never belong
to any science which has its foundations laid in facts collected from expe
rience and observation."
"In pure geometry, no reference to the senses can be admitted, but in
the way of illustration ; and any such reference, in the most trifling step
of a demonstration, vitiates the whole. But in Natural Philosophy, all
our reasonings must be grounded on principles for which no evidence but
that of sense can be obtained ; and the propositions which we establish,
differ from each other only as they are deduced from such principles im
mediately, or by the intervention of a mathematical demonstration. An
experimental proof, therefore, of any particular physical truth, when it can
be conveniently obtained, although it may not always be the most elegant
or the most expedient way of introducing it to the knowledge of the stu
dent, is as rigorous and as satisfactory as any other ; for the intervention of
a process of mathematical reasoning can never bestow on our conclusions a greater
degree of certainty than our principles possessed,
" I have been led to enlarge on these topics by that unqualified applica
tion of mathematical method to physics, which has been fashionable for
many years past among foreign writers, and which seems to have origi
nated chiefly in the commanding influence which the genius and learning
of Leibnitz has so long maintained over the scientific taste of most Euro
pean nations. I have [elsewhere] taken notice of some other inconven
iences resulting from it, still more important than the introduction of an
unsound logic into the elements of Natural Philosophy ; in particular, of
the obvious tendency which it has to withdraw the attention from that unity
of design, which it is the noblest employment of philosophy to illustrate,
by disguising it under the semblance of an eternal and necessary order,
similar to what the mathematician delights to trace among the mutual rela
tions of quantities and figures. The consequence has been, (in too many
physical systems,) to level the study of nature, in point of moral interest,
with the investigations of the algebraist ; an effect, too, which has taken
place most remarkably, where, from the sublimity of the subject, it was
least to be expected, in the application of the mechanical philosophy to
the phenomena of the heavens."
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 25
CHAPTER II.
THIS DISTINCTION APPLIED TO PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
Summary of the last Chapter. In the last chapter, I en
deavored to define and distinguish the nature and scope of
physical and metaphysical inquiry, to show that the one was
properly confined to matters of fact, and the other to relations
of ideas. Demonstrative reasoning, I attempted to prove, be
longs exclusively to the latter, and its conclusions are always
abstract ; the truths of physical science are obtained only by the
inductive method, by observation and experiment, and by gen
eralizations extending from individuals to a class. Yet the
former method has no superiority over the latter, when con
sidered simply as a foundation of belief. Both alike command
our assent on indisputable grounds, though the media of proof
are radically unlike. Sensible evidence and inductive reason
ing, it is true, admit of degrees, and lead to all shades of belief,
from the faintest probability up to what is called moral certainty.
Demonstrative reasoning, on the other hand, has no degrees ; a
proposition is established by it either conclusively, or not at all.
If successful, it would be contradictory and absurd to deny the
conclusion, the proof being then equivalent, but not superior,
to that which in the former case renders a fact morally certain.
To adopt Locke s distinction between insanity and idiocy, we
might say that only a madman can reject a mathematical proof
after it has been once explained to him, while to be incapable
of governing one s conduct by that sensible evidence which con
trols the actions of our fellows, is simply idiocy. Such a per
son is usually said to be incapable of keeping out of fire and
water, because he is not able to learn from induction, or re
peated experiment, that the former will burn and the latter will
drown him. A very brief glance at the history of science was
3
26 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
intended to show, that most of the mistakes, retrogressions, and
absurdities which have hindered the progress of it, may be
traced to ignorance or forgetfulness of the distinction here
pointed out, to an attempt to deduce facts from abstract con
ceptions, or to draw down pure ideas to sensible observation
and material tests, to calling for demonstration in physics, or
following the guidance of the senses only in metaphysical in
vestigations. Illustrations of this error might easily be multi
plied from the whole domain of science and speculation, not less
numerous and apt in our own day, perhaps, than they were
among the ancients or in the times of the schoolmen ; but less
conspicuous, affecting a smaller class of minds, and therefore less
likely, we may hope, to be chronicled for the mingled amuse
ment and pity of future generations. They are now the follies
of a sect, a party, or a clique, usually a small one ; while in
former days, they were the indications of a universal evil, pro
ceeding from ill-formed habits of thought, and offering a far-ex
tended and almost insuperable barrier to the progress of knowl
edge.
Nature and Object of Philosophy, or Metaphysical Science.
Leaving the task of mere illustration, then, I proceed to inquire
how far the distinction now pointed out may be made available
for one great purpose of this work, to determine clearly the
respective limits of Religion and Philosophy. It is obvious that
the latter term, which is often applied very generally to the
pursuit of all knowledge, must here be used in a restricted
sense, and be made synonymous, in fact, with metaphysics. It
cannot be defined more clearly, without a tedious enumeration
of all the questions and problems which it comprehends. It is
concerned with the origin and explication of our ideas of cause,
power, infinity, knowledge, freewill, identity, substance, and the
like, all of which are pure abstractions, so that we must reason
about them demonstratively, or not at all. Philosophy, in this
narrow meaning of the word, includes precisely that class of
subjects which Milton assigned for contemplation to one band
of the spirits fallen from heaven, who, in their place of punish
ment,
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 27
" apart sat on a hill retired,
In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,
Fixed fate, freewill, foreknowledge absolute,
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost."
All science proceeds from one generalization to another, and
must therefore end at a point, in a science that surveys the
basis of all the others, determines their proper relations, and
binds the whole into one orderly system of knowledge. This
seems to have been Lord Bacon s conception of the matter,
when, in his general scheme of knowledge, he says, " The basis
is Natural History, the stage next the basis is Physics, the
stage next the vertical point is Metaphysics." To examine in
turn all the questions with which metaphysical philosophy is
conversant, so as to exhibit their abstract character, would be a
long, and, it may be, an unprofitable undertaking. I shall not
attempt it, as the fact, perhaps, is apparent enough from a mere
enumeration of the subjects, and because all of them which are
immediately connected with my principal theme will come up
for subsequent consideration. It will be enough for the present
briefly to allude to a few of them, the purely ideal character of
which may perhaps be questioned by some persons.
Metaphysics distinguished from Psychology. And here a
distinction is to be made, as one portion of what is usually
called the Philosophy of Mind is certainly occupied with mat
ters of fact, and comes within the province of inductive reason
ing. Psychology is the latest designation in use, and perhaps
the most convenient one, for that science which bears the same
relation to mind, that Anatomy and Physiology do to our corpo
real nature. Certainly there are facts of consciousness, no less
than those which are evident to sense ; the human mind, to a
certain extent, is a subject of observation and experiment, as the
supposed seat or origin of various phenomena, that admit of
number, arrangement, and classification. These phenomena,
again, are not produced fortuitously, or at random, but are sub
ject to fixed laws, more or less obvious, that may be definitely
expressed. I need only refer to the great laws of association,
28 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
or suggestion, which every one has occasion to observe who
seeks to call up subjects that are related to each other, or to
discipline his memory. The phenomena of mind, also, are often
complex, and need to be analyzed and reduced to their simplest
elements. Imagination, for instance, is a compound faculty,
embracing simple suggestion, conception, or the picturing forth
of an object, abstraction, and the power of forming novel com
binations from the elements thus obtained.
I speak of this science as confined entirely to mind, without
forgetting that one important point in it is the question, whether
there be any such separate existence as mind distinct from
matter. If this question be determined in the negative, it would
appear, at first sight, that no division can be made, that there
is no room for any science separate from that which treats of
the laws and properties of bodies. Yet the subject is not really
affected by the determination of this doubt. Every one is con
scious of thinking, reasoning, willing, of pleasure, love, and
hatred; and these qualities or phenomena are wholly unlike
bulk, figure, extension, and other qualities usually attributed to
matter. Now we do not need to assume, in the outset, that
there is a separate existence, or entity, in which the first class
of these attributes inhere. There is no doubt that the two sets
of phenomena are perfectly distinct from each other ; there is
no danger of confounding them. Avoiding all hypotheses and
mooted questions, therefore, it may be said that psychology,
treating of those facts which we learn from consciousness, is a
branch of physical science., the other subdivisions of which relate
to those facts which come to our knowledge through the senses.
J^fetaphysics treats exclusively of the relations of ideas- But
it is certainly no part of psychological inquiry to seek after the
origin of our notion of cause, or to analyze our idea of infinity.
Observation cannot aid us here. In the external world, and
in the succession of our thoughts, we witness only events or
changes ; we observe only sequences of phenomena ; and to
bind together the two terms of a sequence in the relation of
cause and effect is the work of pure reason, unaided by the per
ceptive faculty. So, also, whatever we observe, whether in
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 29
external nature or in the world within us, is finite, limited, and
contingent ; the idea of infinity is superadded by reason, tran
scending the sphere of sense and reflection, and baffling even
the power of the imagination to seize or comprehend it. Our
ideas, moreover, of space and time are abstract conceptions,
which rise, indeed, on occasion of experience, but cannot be
deduced from experience, nor explained by its teachings. To
speculate on these things is the work of metaphysical philosophy
properly so called, of that science which goes beyond facts to
principles, which begins from intuitions and ends in demonstra
tive certainty.
Tlte scope and purpose of Ontology explained. It may be
said, however, that metaphysical inquiries are not concerned
exclusively with relations of ideas, since Ontology, which is an
important and the most abstruse branch of this science, relates
avowedly, and as its name imports, to real entities, which are
conceived to exist out of the mind, or independently of thought.
I answer, that the realities which are the objects of ontological
inquiry are few in number, and, though supposed to exist out of
the mind, they are known to us only as abstract conceptions ;
and the sole purpose of Ontology, the only problem which it
attempts to resolve, is the question whether they are realities or
not. This point cannot be ascertained by observation and ex
periment, which are the great instruments of physical inquiry ;
it can be determined only by studying the relations of our ideas.
Take, for instance, the idea of material substance, which we
conceive of only as the unknown sometJting that supports and
manifests certain qualities^ even these qualities being known to
us only as the hidden causes of certain sensations, or states of
mind ; and this idea, these states of mind, are the only media
the study of which can furnish an answer to the question as to
the reality of this substance. Aristotle calls this substance " the
primary matter," to distinguish it from the secondary forms of
matter, that are the only objects of which we take cognizance
through the senses. " The primary matter," he says, " is that
without which nothing could formally exist. It is neither earth,
nor air, nor fire, nor water. It is neither hot, nor cold, nor dry,
3*
30 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
nor moist, nor solid, nor extended. It is the universal element,
but can never become objective to sense." How, then, can we
obtain a view of this elementary being ? " We gain a glimpse
of it," says the learned author of Philosophical Arrangements,
" by abstraction., when we say that the first matter is not the
lineaments and complexion, which make the beautiful face ; nor
yet the flesh and blood, which make those lineaments and that
complexion ; nor yet the liquid and solid aliments, which make
that flesh and blood ; nor yet the simple bodies of earth and
water, which make those various aliments ; but something which,
being below all these, and supporting them all, is yet different
from them all, and essential to their existence." Certainly, this
idea is a pure abstraction, quite as much so as the infinitesimal
quantities of the algebraist; and though reality may be predi
cated of it, if we believe in its existence, it is only in the same
sense in which quantities infinitely small may be said actually
to exist anywhere in measurable extension.
Instances of the corruption of physical science by metaphysical
ideas. And here, it may be observed in passing, we have an
illustration of the radically vicious method in which the ancients
undertook the study of nature ; omitting altogether the observa
tion of particular facts, and seeking to deduce from grand but
vague abstractions, like this of " the primary matter," the indi
vidual truths which they disdained to collect from patient induc
tion. It was as if a botanist should attempt to evolve by medi
tation the grand archetypal idea of a plant, from which to
deduce, by logical analysis and strict demonstrative reasoning,
the several forms which all existing plants must assume. We
ought not rashly to infer that there is no longer any danger of
committing flagrant mistakes like this in the pursuit of knowl
edge. Error tends to come round in cycles ; and the reaction
against the Baconian method, to which I alluded in the last
chapter, has given some currency to speculations in natural
science which seem the legitimate descendants of the reveries
of the^ schoolmen. Take, for instance, the infant science of
Morphology, applied to animals by Geoffroy St. Hilaire, and to
plants by Goethe, and which has recently been made popular,
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 31
at least in some of its applications, by the author of the " Ves
tiges of Creation." According to this speculation, " plants and
animals, in the process of growing up from their germs, have a
tendency to develop themselves in a much more uniform man
ner than they in fact do ; and the differences for example, of
leaf, flower, and fruit are mere modifications of one general
phenomenon." The theory assumes, that the type, or grand
purpose of nature, though constantly struggling to manifest it
self, is realized only in a few cases, which are admitted mon
strosities, the system resting on these, and the induction from a
few anomalous instances *thus overriding the conclusion derived
from the great majority of cases. The doctrine naturally suc
ceeds, that all the races of animals tend, as it were, to pass into
each other, in their progress to or from the typical creature,
which forms either the commencement or the end of the scale.
The distinctions of species thus disappear, races cease to be per
manent, and man acknowledges fraternity, or a common pedi
gree, with the reptile and the brute. A purely speculative
notion is here superinduced upon the inductions of experience,
though a lingering respect is still manifested for the Baconian
method, the theory being defended by a spurious induction from
a few monstrosities. And this view we are invited to entertain
as a substitute for the doctrine of final causes ! *
The question, whether the external world exists, is virtually
metaphysical. But this is a digression ; I return to the only
other question in metaphysical science which it is necessary to
consider here, as a seeming exception to the doctrine that this
science is concerned exclusively with the relations of abstract
ideas. I refer now to the discussion respecting the real exist
ence of the external world, a question distinct in some respects
from the one already noticed respecting the abstract conception
of material substance. And here a distinction is to be made
between the popular belief and the philosophical doctrine, or
* Schiller made the best criticism upon this theory, when it was first
explained to him by Goethe, who was one of its earliest advocates, if not
its inventor. " This," said Schiller, " is not an observation, hut an idea"
32 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
rather between the causes that actually create our assent to the
proposition, and the reasons by which, when subsequently called
upon, ive undertake to justify that assent. Certainly, to all
minds not yet accustomed to philosophical inquiries, the exist
ence of an external world is a fact, and, as such, is learned by
induction. There can be no reasonable doubt, I think, that the
sensations of an infant are not accompanied by what we call
perception; that they are not referred by it to an external
cause ; that they give it no information at first respecting out
ward realities, but are to it merely so many sources of pleasure
or pain. By a gradual process, that is, by induction, finding that
the sensations recur in a fixed order under given circumstances,
that they are wholly independent of the will, that muscular ex
ertion can sometimes be made without restraint, and at others,
is checked or resisted by a foreign obstacle, the infant mind
comes at last to a conception of outward things, or of existences
foreign to itself.
Whether this induction is so complete, that we can consider
the independent existence of brute matter as proved by it, is
another question. It does prove, that there must be some cause
of these sensations, which cause is foreign to our own minds ;
and this is enough to disprove the monstrous idealism of Fichte,
that we create every thing from ourselves, though the doctrine
of Berkeley remains quite as plausible as the vulgar belief, and
rests, perhaps, on a more philosophical basis. Those who ridi
cule it, it is safe to say, do so from ignorance of its true charac
ter ; and this remark will apply even to the great English mor
alist, who, when teased by his biographer about this doctrine,
undertook to decide the case in his own peculiar manner. " I
never shall forget," says Boswell, " the alacrity with which Dr.
Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a
large stone, till he rebounded from it, I refute it thus. "
The argument implied in this act proves nothing but the es
sential shallowness of Johnsonian dogmatism ; for it is an appeal
to facts, to sensible evidence, to settle an abstract philosophical
question. As mooted by philosophers, this question refers to
the objective validity of our abstract idea of outward things, and
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 33
as such it must be settled, if at all, by metaphysical reasons ;
and he who brings into this discussion the testimony of the
senses, acts quite as absurdly as a metaphysician would do, who,
by his abstract speculations, should undertake to confound a
common man s belief in the reality of things about him.* Here,
as everywhere else, the physical fact rests upon its appropriate
inductive evidence; while the philosophical question must be
treated philosophically, or by metaphysical considerations. The
speculative attempts, extended, modified, and perpetually recur
ring through the whole history of philosophy, to demonstrate the
independent existence of matter, have left the question precisely
where it was, have created nothing but an interminable
logomachy, or war of words, between the realists and the ideal
ists. . The result of this warfare was pithily summed up by Dr.
Brown, when speaking of the two great champions in Scotland
of the opposite doctrines on this subject : " Reid bawled out,
We must believe in an external world, but added in a whisper,
6 1 own we can give no reason for this belief; Hume cried out,
We cannot prove the existence of matter, but he whispered,
I confess we cannot help believing it. " f
* The idealist doubts not the reality of ideas and sensations, as such.
Nature exists for him also, but only in his own mind. He fully believes
the uniformity of her laws, that like causes will produce like effects.
He is confident, for instance, that the idea of falling from a precipice will
be followed by the idea of exquisite pain ; and if he has common sense, he
will avoid those volitions which, as constant experience has taught him,
will lead to its occurrence. He does not, it is time, fear the fracture of a
bone ; for he thinks there are no bones to break. But he dreads the con
ception of such an injury, and the pain which must attend such a concep
tion. Since we are no further interested in our bodily frame than as it is
a source of pleasure or pain, and as these feelings belo ng, not to matter,
but to mind, the idealist is no more chargeable with inconsistency than
one who attempts to prevent the recurrence of a painful dream.
t The question about the reality of the external world is very fairly
stated by Prof. De Morgan, in the second chapter of his " Formal Logic."
" That our minds, souls, or thinking powers, (use what name we may,)
exist, is the thing of all others of which we are most certain, each for
himself. Next to this, nothing can be more certain to us, each for himself,
than that other things also exist ; other minds, ur own bodies, the
34 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
Nature and logic of religious belief. Enough has been said
to show the true purpose of metaphysical philosophy, the nature
of the subjects with which it is conversant, the kind of reason
ing employed, and the proper limits of the discussion. Let us
pass on, then, to a precisely similar inquiry respecting religion.
What is the nature of religious belief, properly so called ? and
whole world of matter. But between the character of these two certainties,
there is a vast difference. Any one who should deny his own existence,
would, if serious, he held beneath argument ; he does not know the mean
ing of his words, or he is false or mad. But if the same man should deny
that any thing exists except himself, that is, if he should affirm the whole
creation to be a dream of his own mind, he would be absolutely unanswer
able. If I, (who know he is wrong, for /am certain of my own existence,)
argue with him, and reduce him to silence, it is no more than might hap
pen in his dream. (It is not impossible that, in a real dream of sleep,
some one may have created an antagonist who beat him in an argument
to prove that he was awake.) A celebrated metaphysician, Berkeley,
maintained that, with regard to matter, the above is the state of the case ;
that our impressions of matter are only impressions, communicated by the
Creator without any intervening cause of communication.
" Our most convincing communicable proof of the existence of other
things, is, not the appearance of objects, but the necessity of admitting
that there are other minds besides our own. The external inanimate ob
jects might be creations of our own thoughts, or thinking and percep
tive function ; they are so sometimes, as in the case of insanity, in which
the mind has frequently the appearance of making the whole or part of its
own external world. But when we see other beings, performing similar
functions to those which we ourselves perform, we come so irresistibly to
the conclusion that there must be other sentients like ourselves, that we
should rather compare a person who doubted it to one who denied his
own existence, than to one who simply denied the real external existence
of the material world.
" When once we have admitted different and independent minds, the
reality of external objects (external to all those minds) follows as of course.
For different minds receive impressions at the same time, which their
power of communication enables them to know are similar, so far as any
impressions, one in each of two different minds, can be known to be sim
ilar. There must be a somewhat independent of those minds, which thus
acts upon them all at once, and without any choice of their own. This
somewhat is what we call an external object ; and whether it arise in
Berkeley s mode, or in any other, matters nothing to us here."
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 35
by what kind of testimony is it supported ? Are we here con
cerned with realities, or with abstract speculations ? and do we
look to demonstration, or to moral certainty, as the result of the
inquiry ? The question is not yet, be it observed, whether the
belief is legitimate, or the testimony sufficient ; of that, here
after. I do not now ask whether religion be true, but how we
are to prove or to disprove it ; what arguments are to be admit
ted into the discussion, and what considerations shut out as
irrelevant. I use the word religion here in its most compre
hensive sense, including both theology, as a system of doctrines
and principles, and practical piety.
The being of a God is a fact. The central truth of religion,
on which all its other doctrines and its practice depend, is the
being of a God. Is there, in very truth, a creating and sustain
ing Deity, or is this universe an orphan, and we, most miser
able, but accidental formations from the clod, living only to con
sume life, relying on no support but our own strength, and look
ing forward to painless extinction as the happiest possible termi
nation of our short and troubled career ? Surely, we are able
to say, that the Divine existence, if proved, is a fact, and the
most momentous of all facts ; it is at once the most consoling
and the most awful of all realities. I do not forget that the*
name of the Supreme Being is often vaguely used ; because it is
said that his existence is a mystery, and his essence is unknown,
for the finite creature cannot comprehend the Infinite. So
neither can we comprehend ourselves; our own existence is a
mystery, and we are surrounded with problems that we cannot
solve. The lowest and the highest manifestation of life is alike
a secret that baffles the most cunning researches of science ; we
can describe, meagrely and imperfectly, it is true, but we cannot
explain it. If no knowledge is admissible, or deserves its name,
except it be perfect, then indeed we are doomed to hopeless and
perpetual ignorance. In this respect, the grand dogma of the
being of a God is on a par with the simplest fact of physiology,
or with a belief in the actual existence of any fellow-mortal
whom we have never seen.
Different conceptions of a Deity. But I go much further ;
3G PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
considered as a truth of religion, the being of a God is a suffi
ciently definite and intelligible fact, to enable us to pronounce at
once on the general character of the evidence by which, if at
all, it must be proved. If we discard all notion of an overruling
Providence, and adopt only the Epicurean idea of the Supreme
Being, as one sitting apart from his works, and allowing them
to go on without interference, oversight, or regard, then indeed
the question concerning the reality of such an existence is one
of pure curiosity, to be ranked with other problems in science,
as a matter of no immediate interest except to the student. We
may sublimate that existence into an abstract conception, or iden
tify it with material nature ; and as either alternative is adopted,
we may attempt to support it by physical or metaphysical rea
soning. But the religious aspect of the subject compels us to
bring down the question to the actual existence of a Moral Gov
ernor of the world. We care not whether the dogma, considered
simply as a fact or a proposition in science, be established or re
futed. Our only interest in the matter, looking at it not as
philosophers, nor as students of science, but as men, arises from
the influence which the fact, if proved, will have upon our con
duct and the regulation of our hearts and lives. The question
does not affect us, unless it be understood to relate to the being
of a personal God, the Creator of heaven and earth, really distinct
from nature, though pervading it with his presence, all-wise and
all-powerful, the conscious Cause and present Ruler of all things.
I am not taking these attributes for granted, but simply stating
the question, the only question which, as moral beings, we are
concerned to answer. Whatever might be made of the philo
sophical conception of a Deity, or however curious and interest
ing to the merely rational mind might be the solution of the
problem respecting the mode of his existence, or the reconcile
ment of his attributes with each other, it does not affect us, con
sidered simply as seekers after religious truth, or as endeavoring
to satisfy the longings of that religious sentiment which, like the
desire for society, or the domestic affections, or the inherent
love of right, I firmly believe to be a constituent and ineradi
cable principle of human nature. The proper object of that
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 37
sentiment is a person, a moral being ; its natural and even irre
sistible expression is in worship and prayer. We must seek to
gratify it, then, just as We might attempt, if suffering under a
sense of loneliness, to appease our social cravings ; first, to
ascertain the fact that a companion can be found, and then to
draw near to him in that spirit of loving trust, and, if necessary,
of self-sacrifice, which will be sure to make him, when found,
our friend.
Demonstrative evidence not applicable in this inquiry. We
cannot, then, demonstrate the existence of a God. If there is any
force in the considerations which I have tried to lay before you,
this admission is not an alarming one. We do not here attempt
to weigh the abstract argument for this end, and pronounce it to
be weak or insufficient ; opinions might differ on this point ; we
put it aside altogether, as illogical and irrelevant. It has nothing
to do with the matter in hand. We reject it for the same rea
son that an historian would reject, as an idle exercise of ingenu
ity, an attempt, made without any reference to the testimony of
persons, books, or monuments, to prove, from abstract concep
tions and the laws of the human mind, that a great battle must
have been fought nearly twenty-five hundred years ago on the
plains of Marathon, and that the Grecian forces in this battle
must have been commanded by a general called Miltiades. We
say that metaphysical reasoning is inapplicable here, on the same
principle on which the chemist, when about to investigate the
affinities of a newly discovered substance, would refuse to sub
stitute pure mathematical analysis for the logic of the crucible,
the scales, and the blowpipe. He would say, that the former
mode of investigation was precluded by the nature of the case ;
and as the selection of .the proper means of research is a ques
tion of pure logic, which is itself one of the metaphysical sci
ences, it would not be going too far for him to assert, that he
could demonstrate the inapplicability of demonstration.
Why ive seek to exclude metaphysical reasoning. It may be
asked, why I have taken so much pains with this preliminary
matter, which is merely the logic of natural theology. Why
seek to strike out abstract reasoning, and to bring the question
4
38 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
down to the limits and principles of the inductive method, so
that our researches may be governed by the rules of physical
inquiry ? Unquestionably, every sincere believer would be glad
to accept a demonstration of the truths of religion, if it could be
had ; why endearor to cut him off even from the hope of a pos
sible future enlargement, in this way, of the grounds of his
faith ?
I answer, first, that it is of great importance so to arrange
the system of our belief, that proofs of the same general char
acter may be classed together, and the relative strength of dif
ferent arguments may be clearly ascertained. They lose their
proper weight in our estimation, if brought to a false standard,
or tried by an insufficient test. A pretended demonstration of a
matter of fact, if compared with the reasoning of Euclid or La
place, must appear, I do not say feeble, but illogical and false ;
and the failure of a favorite argument is very likely to draw
down with it, in the mind of the inquirer, all faith in the doc
trine itself, its other supports being then disregarded or -held in
light esteem. I would save the earnest seeker after truth from
the anguish of disappointment, in looking after what cannot be
found, and thereby enable him duly to appreciate the strength
of the proofs within his reach. There can be no fears for the
strength of our religious faith, if it stands upon the same plat
form with the whole round of the physical sciences, so that no
assault can reach even its outworks until the entire fabric of
these sciences shall be demolished, and it be made to appear
that all the boasted attainments of the last three centuries in
the study of nature have been unprofitable and vain.,
Kind and degree of the theological proof. The theologi
cal argument is of the same kind with that which supports the
conclusions of the physical inquirer; but it is superior, im
measurably superior, in degree. The proofs of design, for
instance, which form the basis of one portion of this argument,
are numerous beyond calculation. They are diffused every
where, above, around, and within us. They are not drawn
only from a few scratches on mountains of rock, or from fossil
remains here and there dug up from the earth, put together with
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 39
slow toil, and their history with difficulty spelt out. They do
not rest on a few experiments carefully devised and with great
labor repeated. The study of years is not required before their
import can be made known even to a few, while the bulk of
mankind must ever remain ignorant of the doctrine, or receive
it on trust. These are difficulties with which the geologist, the
chemist, the astronomer, must contend. But the marks of contriv
ance that form the language in which the sublime dogma of God s
existence is written out fill the earth and skies, and are open
alike to the most elevated and the meanest capacity. They are
equally obvious in the structure of every blade of grass, and in
the mechanism of the heavens. They exist alike in the object
perceived, and in the percipient mind ; in the hand that fashions,
the ear that hears, and the lungs that breathe. They are found
in the bones of extinct races, and in the habits of all living
things ; in the skeleton of the mammoth, and in the instinct
which teaches the bee to frame its wonderful cell, and guides
the waterfowl to its nest. The atmosphere, that wraps the
earth in a garment, testifies His presence ; and the sun bears
witness to Him who. lighted up its fires. "There is no speech
nor language where their voice is not heard. Their line is gone
out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the
world."
Irrelevancy of metaphysical objections. Secondly, we seek to
confine this inquiry within its legitimate boundaries, because the
grounds which justify the exclusion of metaphysical proofs show
also the irrelevancy of metaphysical objections. It needs but
little study of the evidences of natural religion to convince one,
that the arguments which have been brought against the doc
trine of the being of a God, are, almost without exception, ab
stract or metaphysical in character. They are founded on
alleged imperfections in our knowledge of cause and effect ; on
a supposed inconsistency of the attribute of infinity with the
moral qualities of God ; on the assumed inviolability of abstract
but personified laws ; on the difficulty of conceiving of eternal
duration, or of any person who is increate ; on the fallacy of
reasoning from what is finite to what is infinite ; and last and ,
40 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
V chiefly, on the absence of demonstration itself, which, it is taken
for granted, is quite as essential in this case as for establishing
a proposition in geometry. To take away the whole basis of
these objections, by showing that they are no more pertinent to
the subject in hand than to the doctrines of physical science, is
to contribute most effectually to the argument of the theist.*
If it be proved, that reasoning from such premises is nugatory
and inapplicable, the very groundwork of the systems of Spi
noza, Hume, Kant, Fichte, and other modern infidels, is re
moved, and the superstructure falls. The philosophy which
attempts to define and demonstrate all things, necessarily leads
to fatalism. In the posthumous work of Spinoza, may be found
the perfect type of these demonstration-seeking systems,
systems which can never really transcend the sphere of the
abstractions on which they are founded, and therefore never can
consistently admit a Deity, except in that pantheistic sense
which regards God as a pure idea, that is necessarily involved
in all existence, and ends in an avowed identification of the
Divinity with the material universe. The title of his book,
" Ethics reduced to a Geometrical System, and proved by the
Geometrical Method," answers to its contents ; as he begins
with a list of axioms and definitions, and proceeds, by a series
of theorems and proofs, to that doctrine of atheistic fatalism
which has been the seminal principle of the infidel philosophy
( 7 of Germany down to the present day.
Infidel systems compared with ancient mythology. I have no
fears for the security of the theist s faith, when it rests on the
same basis with all the doctrines of natural science, and with all
# " If Christianity be a system of metaphysical deductions, it must of
course maintain itself among other principles of the same class ; and must
bring all its positions into accordance with them ; or must vanquish them
with the weapons of scholastic warfare, and must appeal to abstract truths
on every occasion of controversy. But if it be simply and solely a matter
of history (as to its truth), and of verbal affirmation (as to its doctrines),
then nothing can be more enormous than the attempt to bring the- general
fact, or the particular affirmations, into collision with the principles of
metaphysical science." Taylor s Introduction to Edwards on the Will, p. 140.
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 41
the conclusions which govern the daily conduct of men. To
distrust such evidence, or to be incapable of acting upon it, is
the common test of the folly that borders upon idiocy ; and to
such an unbeliever, therefore, may be literally applied the words
of Scripture, " The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God."
The infidel systems of modern philosophy agree very nearly
with the mythology of the ancients, which admitted "Fate,
Chance, Nature, Time, Space, to be real beings, nay, even
gods." " Mankind in all ages," says Mr. J. S. Mill, " have had
a strong propensity to conclude, that, wherever there is a name,
there must be a distinguishable separate entity corresponding,
and every complex idea, which the mind has formed for itself by
operating upon its conceptions of individual things, was consid
ered to have an outward objective reality answering to it."
" This misapprehension," he goes on to say, " of the import of
general language, constitutes Mysticism, a word so much oftener
written and spoken than understood. Whether in the Vedas,
the Platonists, or the Hegelians, mysticism is neither more nor
less than ascribing objective existence to the subjective creations
of the mind s own faculties, to mere ideas of the intellect ; and
believing, that, by watching and contemplating these ideas of its
own making, it can read in them what takes place in the world
without." In religion, it may be added, this Mysticism leads to
the most subtile of all forms of idolatry, the only one, indeed,
that is now practicable among a civilized people, the deifica
tion of an idea, the* apotheosis of an abstraction.*
The immortality of the soul is a fact. The proposition, that
all the fundamental truths of religion relate to matters of fact,
and must be established, if at all, by moral reasoning, leads us
to look beyond the belief in the being of a God, and to inquire
* Thus iv Cousjn talks with perfect consistency about demonstrating the
existence of aljod, for he not only reasons from pure abstractions, but
avowedly identifies the object of his inquiry with an abstract idea. Ac
cording to his theory, the three elements of pure Keason the idea of the
Finite, the Infinite, and the relation between them do not afford a pas
sage to the Divine existence., "for these ideas are God himself." These three
elements, " a triplicity which resolves itself into unity, and a unity which
4*
42 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
if it holds true, also, of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul.
I pass over the evidences of the moral government of the Deity,
as unnecessary to be considered here ; since it is obvious that
they must consist in a copious induction of examples, to prove
that the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice are the
great objects of all the general laws by which the world is
governed. The only argument brought against this doctrine,
being an enumeration of cases of a seemingly promiscuous dis
tribution of happiness and misery in this life, is an application
of the rules of physical inquiry, so that abstract reasoning is
admitted to be out of place on either side. These apparent
exceptions, this allotment of good and evil in a measure which
often does not correspond with our sense of merit and demerit,
create a presumption, it is said, that the scheme of moral gov
ernment, which has only its beginning here, will be completed
in a future state.
If the immortality of the soul did not open so attractive a field
for general disquisition, it would be difficult to conceive of it as
supported by abstract arguments, or as clouded by metaphysical
doubts and difficulties. " If a man dies, shall he live again ? "
The question here relates to a fact of the second order, to an
event which is to take place, a future occurrence ; if the present,
or actual, existence of the mind or person is a fact, so also is its
future existence. Our means of answering the question, too,
are more limited and imperfect in this case, than would suffice
for the establishment of any fact in physifeal science. As it
relates to the future, we can have no sensible evidence of it ;
and as the grave confessedly does not give up its dead to our
bodily apprehension, the testimony of others, except so far as
they speak of a revelation, is also set aside. The axiom re
develops itself into triplicity," constitute the Divine Intelligence itself,
the triajuncta in uno, the mystery of the Godhead. Those who are satisfied
with this conception of the Deity, can accept also Cousin s demonstrative
proof of His existence. But for our own part* we want words to express
our indignation at this impious harlequinade of words, this mode of
binding together three dry sticks of abstract i4eas, and then baptizing the
miserable fagot as God.
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 43
specting the uniformity of nature, which is the usual foundation
of our reasonings from the past to the future, cannot aid us here ;
because we are not asking now, whether it is probable that an
observed law of nature will continue in force ; the question is,
whether there has ever been such a law, whether a messenger
has ever come back to us from that invisible bourne. Accord
ingly, it is distinctly admitted by the most judicious writers on
natural theology, that the argument, after all, is but a series of
presumptions, which we indulge the more readily, because the
conclusion to which they point is one in which all persons wil
lingly acquiesce ; it agrees with the involuntary shrinking of the
rational mind from the idea of utter extinction. Most of these
presumptions were as well stated by the ancient philosophers,
by Socrates, and Plato, and Cicero, as by the moderns. The
use of such speculations is not to establish the truth of the point
in question, but to refute the objections which have been urged
against the possibility of the event. It can be shown, that the
dissolution of the body does not necessarily lead us to infer the
extinction of the soul, but that the presumption lies the other
way. It is in this moderate form that the argument from the
light of nature is stated by Butler, and it would have been well
if Clarke had imitated his reserve. Immortality is no part of
the positive teachings of nature; to Revelation alone, can we
look for light and life beyond the grave.
Some unsatisfactory conceptions of immortality. I take no
account of those extraordinary speculations, which suppose the
soul of man to be a ray or emanation from the Deity, which, at
the dissolution of the body, will again be absorbed into its
source. " This seems," says Mr. Stewart, " to have been the
opinion of many of the ancient Stoics ; and a similar idea has
been adopted by some philosophers in modern times, who have
compared the soul, when joined to the body, to a small portion
of the sea inclosed in a vial ; and, when separated from it, to the
same water, confounded and intermixed, by the breaking of the
vial ,which contained it, with the ocean from which it was first
taken," This is but one of the applications of the doctrine of pan
theism ; and those who can give up the belief in a personal God,
44 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
may be satisfied with this conception of the soul s futurity. But
to others, the loss of distinct consciousness and personal identity
or individuality, which is implied in this theory, will cause the
doctrine to appear little more consoling than a belief in the ter
mination of all things at the grave. The admitted physical fact,
that of all the material particles which constitute the body at
the instant of death, not one is lost, but all enter into new com
binations, and pass through a ceaseless round of growth and
decay, gives us an idea of the perpetuity of our corporeal
frames, which answers exactly to this pantheistic notion of the
immortality of the soul. To speak of different minds being
blended together and lost in one general mass of being, is to em
ploy a form of words which is only not injurious to sound doc
trine, because it is unintelligible and absurd. Existence is an
abstract idea ; there is no such thing as existence in general,
apart from individual beings, any more than there is such a
thing as an audience existing separately from the men and
women who compose it. To speak of the annihilation of these
persons in their individual capacity, leaving their presence as a
general assembly, is nonsense. To such an absurdity are we
reduced by confounding abstractions with realities, or employing
terms without attaching definite and distinct meaning to them.
The light of nature does not prove immortality properly s&
called, Yet we have been told, that it is " written legibly in
Nature that man is an undying being/ and every thing justifies
us in saying, that, " if man were made to live for ever, the im
press of that intention must be distinctly visible in his very
structure/ Science, it is accordingly said, must decipher the
marks which indicate this intention, and spell out the natural
language in which every rational creature is labelled with the
promise of immortality, just as it infers, from a mere fragment
of a fossil bone, " the whole fashion of the animal to which it be
longed, its food, its mode and sphere of existence." But the
history which is deciphered by the geologist and the comparative
anatomist is that of the past; and not even in their boldest
speculations, do they attempt to pry into the secrets of the
future, far less, to speak confidently of an endless duration to
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 45
come. Science can read the annals of former ages ; but it can
not " look into the seeds of time, and see what grain will grow,
and what will not." The astronomer hesitates about pronounc
ing upon the future stability of the system of which our earth
is but a part, even on the supposition, that the laws which now
seem to control its action shall continue forever in force, without
restraint, limit, or interference from the Omnipotent hand which
first established them. But who shall say when His purpose
shall be accomplished ? or who shall scan the designs of the
Almighty? The naturalist may declare, if he can, that the
flower shall droop and die at the end of a single season ; but he
finds no evidence that the secret principle which now vivifies it,
after it has ceased to hold these material particles together, shall
yet continue to be, either animating other forms, or existing
apart till time shall be no more. And mental science is equally
barren of any distinct promise of the future ; the sharpest scru
tiny of the phenomena of mind, unguided by special revelation,
leaves this doctrine of immortality precisely where it was in the
speculations of antiquity, a dim though glorious foreboding, a
splendid doubt.
We are not surprised, then, to find the author of the asser
tion just quoted rebi&ing those who conceive " of the eternal
world as situated on the other side of the tomb," and telling
them that eternity * is here and now, that they are in it, and
that it is in them." It is all a juggle of words, then, which sub
stitutes a flight of rhetoric for the severe expression of a scien
tific or a religious truth, and reduces the immortality of the soul
to a figure of speech. Unquestionably, it is a tolerable meta
phor to say, that in good deeds there is length of years ; but it
is paltering with words, to hold up this trope as an enunciation
or a proof of the doctrine that the soul shall never die.
It is a fact that religion enjoins certain duties. I need not
give but one other illustration of the truth, that religion is
founded entirely upon matters of fact, and must be supported,
therefore, by moral evidence. Religion inculcates certain duties ;
it enjoins some motives and modes of conduct, and forbids
others, and this, too, by the highest of all sanctions, the com-
46 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY.
mand of God. These injunctions are, in great part, coincident
with the moral precepts of our own hearts ; the Divine law
and the law of conscience, whenever they meet, harmonize with
each other, and, \so far as they regard only the outward act, are
reduced to one. Still, to the religious man, there is an additional
sanction, a new source of obligation ; the act, once deemed obliga
tory only from an instinctive perception of its rightfulness, now
becomes a manifestation of obedience, a religious duty, an act of
worship. Virtuous actions as such, or in themselves considered,
are not religious deeds ; mere virtue must be consecrated by
reference to the Divine will, before it can assume even a resem
blance to holiness. I do not say, that the moral sense is of im
perfect obligation, so that it must be buoyed up and enforced by
the will of God, before its dictates are binding upon man. Right
is of necessary and inherent obligation, anterior to all command.
But the precept added gives another aspect to the duty, and
creates a new joy in the fulfilment of it. A life which is irre
proachable before the world, which is warmed by all the kindly
affections and elevated by a steadfast adherence to noble prin
ciples, is still an irreligious and godless one, if its acts are not
sanctified by this reference to the Supreme Will. This is but a
definition of religion, the meaning of which, as shown by its
etymology and its universal acceptance, is to religate, or to bind
anew, to the performance of duty, by offering an additional
motive and guide ; and this meaning constitutes the only pos
sible distinction between religion and mere morality. In the
family, a rule obligatory in itself acquires a new claim to ob
servance from the command or wish of a parent, the motives of
obedience and love being thus added to our almost involuntary
homage to conscience. So, in the great human family, the
primal duties of life, truthfulness, temperance, justice, and
charity, become alike more awful and engaging, I do not
say more binding, because the performance of them is the
declared will of our Heavenly Father.
Observe, then, that the whole practice of religion depends
upon our knowledge of this fact, that God has commanded us
to do, or to abstain from doing, certain acts. It matters not
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 47
how this knowledge is obtained, whether by direct revelation,
or by inferring the will of the Creator from the character and
tendency of his works. In either case, the light of nature, or a
Divinely appointed messenger, or a miracle, announces to us a
solemn, an awful reality, that the moral law is His law, and
transgression of it is violation of His command. I may even
infer the fact only from my instinctive perception of the duty ;
still, the inference is one that leads to a fact, and not to an
abstract principle, I argue, not from one general law to
another, but from a given effect to a particular cause ; not from
one rule enforced by conscience to another rule enjoined by the
Almighty, but from the fact that conscience speaks at all, to
another fact that God also speaks, and that the voice of con
science is also the voice of God.
The practice of morality distinguished from a belief in
religion. These views, I am well aware, are directly opposed
to a theory now very popular with a certain class of minds,
which tends, first, to identify revealed with natural religion, and
next, to merge both in the practice of a sublime but rather
indefinite morality. A pure life is held up as the only true
criterion of a religious character, and then as the only desirable
object of attainment. Especially has this disposition been man
ifested when treating of the nature and functions of conscience ;
so that many earnest but injudicious persons have now become
quite as fanatical, quite as bigoted, irrational, and intolerant, in
regard to moral principle, as were formerly the wildest sect of
the Puritans in respect to their religious faith. Reverence of
their own nature seems to them quite as just and proper as rev
erence of the Deity, and a glowing though vague conception of
virtue takes the place of religion as a guide of life. Nay, a
sort of ecstatic contemplation of the mere ideas of duty and
right has, with some, usurped the place of a practical manifesta
tion of these ideas in outward conduct ; and thus a species of
Antinomianism has been established on ethical grounds, quite
as absurd and dangerous as the same theory is, when nominally
resting on Scripture. If these vagaries must exist, let them, at
any rate, appear in their true character, and not borrow the
48 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE,
name and garb of the faith which they dishonor. Religion is
indeed an affair of the heart and the life ; but a belief in religion
is an affair of the intellect. Impulses cannot take the place of
convictions, nor can morality itself find anywhere a sure and
permanent support except in a recognition of its dictates as the
commands of God.
CHAPTER III.
THE IDEA OF S.ELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE,
Summary of the last Chapter. The object of the last chap
ter was to draw a dividing line between the provinces of Phi
losophy and Religion ; to show that the one was occupied with
abstractions, and the other with realities ; and, accordingly, that
they rested upon different species of evidence, and any confu
sion of the two was likely to be injurious to both. During the
reign of Scholasticism, says Dr. Whewell, " it was held, without
any regulating principle, that the Philosophy which had been
bequeathed to the world by the great geniuses of heathen anti
quity, and the Philosophy which was deduced from and implied
by the revelations made by God to man, must be identical ; and,
therefore, that Theology is the only true Philosophy." We do
but invert this error in our own day, when the opinion of many
seems to tend towards the conclusion, if indeed it be not openly
avowed, that Philosophy is the only true Theology. Against
this conclusion, I endeavored to show, by a very brief review of
the questions that are chiefly considered by metaphysicians and
by religious inquirers, that they differed as widely from each
other as logic from history, so that reasoning from one to the
other was not merely feeble and unsatisfactory, but irrational
and absurd. The great truths of Religion, are the being of a
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 49
God, the moral government of the world, the immortality of the
soul, and the promulgation of certain duties as directly enjoined
by the authority of God. These truths, I reminded you, for
no proof of a self-evident proposition is needed or possible,
are matters of fact, quite as much so as the existence, at some
antecedent time, of a certain political community upon this earth,
the authority of its first magistrate, and the enactment of laws
by its legislature ; that is, we rely upon sensible evidence, the
testimony of others, and upon reasoning from effects to causes,
the usual media of physical and historical inquiry, for
establishing our belief in their reality.
Statement of the question respecting our personal existence.
Considering these preliminaries as established, we approach
now the body of the subject, and attempt to prove the particular
facts in the case, and to free them from the metaphysical specu
lations and difficulties by which they have been encumbered.
In seeking to know the relation of God to man, we must begin
by an investigation, to some extent, of human nature itself, as
our conclusions upon this point cannot fail to affect every part
of the inquiry. What are we, considered as subjects of the Divine
law, chid what light is thrown by our physical constitution upon
the purpose or end for which we began to exist ? or is it likely
that there was no purpose in the case, but that our creation was
as objectless as the gambols of an infant, a mere freak in
the disposition of matter ? The common belief, that man is a
complex being, made up of body and soul, has been disturbed
by strange doubts respecting the possibility of any immaterial
existence, and by arguments which go to destroy our confidence
even in our personal identity, and consequently in our continu
ous responsibility to any authority. I do not say, that a solu
tion of all these doubts is absolutely necessary before the great
truths of religion can be established. Dr. Priestley was a ma
terialist, yet he believed in the immortality of man ; he was a
necessarian, but he held to human accountability ; and few who
are familiar with his theological writings will deny, that he was
even a profoundly religious person, whatever may have been his
errors in scientific, political, or theological speculation. Still, it
5
50 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
was for him to vindicate his own consistency ; in ordinary minds,
if such opinions are not immediately destructive of all religious
belief, they certainly tend to darken and perplex it, so that a
consideration of them cannot properly be omitted here. The
principles already laid down do not permit us to waive the dis
cussion as metaphysical, and therefore out of place ; for the
point of inquiry is a fact, the continued, identical, conscious
existence of a human being, his personality, the reality of
a man to himself. Metaphysical skepticism has gone so far,
that, before undertaking to establish the existence of a God, we
are called upon to prove our own existence. In considering the
argument upon this head, lest I should be accused of breaking
my own rules, let me remind you that the testimony of con
sciousness has been admitted to be as legitimate a source of
knowledge in physical inquiry, as the evidence of the senses
themselves.
Common mode of distinguishing mind from matter. In the
attempt to disprove the doctrine of materialism, it has been
usual to adopt the argument to which I briefly alluded in a
former chapter ; -. to say, that mind is the seat or subject of
certain phenomena, which are entirely distinct from another
class of attributes or qualities which inhere in matter. What
the substance is, in either case, we cannot determine, for our
knowledge both of mind and matter is merely relative. As
"we know the one," argues Mr. Stewart, "only by, such sensi
ble qualities as extension, figure, and solidity ; and the other by
such operations as sensation, thought, and volition ; we are cer
tainly entitled to say, that matter and mind, considered as ob
jects of human study, are essentially different ; the science of
the former resting ultimately on the phenomena exhibited to our
senses ; that of the latter, on the phenomena of which we are
conscious. Instead, therefore, of objecting to the scheme of
materialism, that its conclusions are false, it would be more ac
curate to say, that its aim is unphilosophical." Accordingly, it
is maintained to be " no more proper to say of mind that it is
material, than to say of body that it is spiritual."
Insufficiency of this distinction. This argument may be
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 51
very well as far as it goes ; but it seems to me to be insufficient,
and to be very like an attempt to console us for our imperfect
knowledge of one thing, by reminding us of our total ignorance
of another. Besides, as mind and matter are confessedly the
only constituents or parts that make up the human being, it is
rather humiliating to be told, that we have only a relative
knowledge of ourselves. When informed that matter is only
the unknown substratum of certain qualities, we may acquiesce ;
for it has been shown that this idea of matter in general is a
mere abstraction, and if it were lost altogether, it would be no
serious privation, our knowledge of particular substances remain
ing precisely what it was before. But when a person is told
that he is only an unknown something which feels, thinks, and
wills, he is very likely to reluct at the conclusion, inasmuch as
he considers his own existence, not as an abstraction, but a
reality. The argument puts our knowledge of the material and
the intellectual world exactly on a- par, so that the idea of per
sonality is left unprovided for, or it is doubtful whether the
body or the mind is the person.
Second argument against materialism. Let us look further,
then, for an argument against materialism, founded on the abso
lute incongruity of mental phenomena with material organization
or change. He who denies the existence of spirit must main
tain that ideas and emotions are evolved, in some unintelligible
manner, by the action of some part of the body, probably of
the nerves or the brain. Now we cannot conceive of any
changes in these organs corresponding to the infinite variety of
mental phenomena, except by the motions of their parts. But
motion is not thought ; the vibrations of the nerves, the agitation
of the brain, the reciprocal action of infinitesimal particles on
each other, is Still bodily action, and not mental action. Grant
ing, for a moment, for the sake of argument, that they produce,
or evolve, thought, they are not thought, any more than the
striking of a hammer on a bell is sound, or than the opening of
the eyes is vision. A cause can never be confounded with its
effect, even though it be the real or efficient cause, and not a
mere invariable antecedent or concomitant event.
52 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
Let me illustrate this point a little further. Chemists and
mathematicians have long been occupied with researches and
speculations concerning the nature of heat, or caloric ; at present,
they can only say of it, that it is an invisible and imponderable
agent or principle, which produces certain effects, the words
" agent " and " principle," be it observed, being used only for
convenience of speech, and really betraying the ignorance of the
speaker, who does not know whether heat is some subtile fluid,
existing by itself, and tending constantly to an equilibrium by
emission in straight lines ; or whether it proceeds from undula
tions, or certain changes resembling undulations, in a fluid which
exists also for other purposes ; the heat in this case not being
material, and never existing by itself, so that we should speak
of a hot body or a cold one, just as we speak of a smooth sur
face or a rough surface, never supposing that smoothness is a
substance, but an attribute. Now, suppose that some unin
formed person, observing that heat was always evolved when
one body was rubbed against another, or when it was burned,
or when it was condensed from a gaseous to a liquid, or from a
liquid to a solid state, should say that the problem was solved,
and that heat was unquestionably nothing but friction, or com
bustion, or condensation. A chemist would certainly say, that
this person did not even understand the question ; for to know
that friction produced heat, was quite a different thing from say
ing that friction constituted heat.
So the agitation of the brain may produce, or rather precede,
or accompany thought ; but it does not constitute thought. Nay,
it is not even so probable that the motion produces the thought,
as it is that the thought produces the motion. Fear blanches the
cheek ; but the paleness does not produce the fear, and, for a
still stronger reason, does not constitute it.*
* " When we say, that the force which holds the planets in their orbits is
resolved into gravity, or that the force which makes substances combine
chemically is resolved into electricity, we assert in the one case what is, and
in the other case what might, and probably will, ultimately be, a legitimate
result of induction. In both these cases, motion is resolved into motion.
The assertion is, that a case of motion, which was supposed to be special,
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 53
argument against the consciousness of personal exist"
ence. Here, again, the argument appears to be sound as far
as it goes ; and it establishes a radical difference between the
phenomena of mind and those of matter. Still, it does not sup
ply the means of tying those phenomena, as it were, together,
or of building up that idea of personality, or self, against which
the sophistry of Hume was chiefly directed. This subtile skep
tic directed his argument against our idea of individuality, or
and to follow a distinct law of its own, conforms to and is included in the
general law which regulates another class of motions. But from these and
similar generalizations," countenance and currency hare been given to at
tempts to resolve, not motion into motion, but heat into motion, light into
motion, sensation itself into motion (as in Hartley s doctrine of vibra
tions) ; states of consciousness into states of the nervous system, as in the
ruder forms of the materialist philosophy ; vital phenomena into mechani
cal or chemical processes, as in some schools of physiology.
" Now I am far from pretending that it may not be capable of proof, or
that it would not be a very important addition to our knowledge, if proved,
that certain motions in the particles of bodies are among the conditions of
the production of heat or light ; that certain assignable physical modifica
tions of the nerves may be among the conditions, not only of our sensations
or emotions, but even of our thoughts ; that certain mechanical and chem
ical conditions may, in the order of natui e, be sufficient to determine to
action the physiological laws of life. All I insist upon, in common with
everv sober thinker since modern science has be<?n definitely constituted,
is, that it shall not be supposed that, by proving these things, one step would
be made towards a real explanation of heat, light, or sensation ; or that
the generic peculiarity of those phenomena can be in the least degree
evaded by any such discoveries, however well established. Let it be shown,
for instance, that the most complex series of physical causes and effects
s-ucceed one another in the eye and in the brain to produce a sensation of
color ; rays falling upon the eye, refracted, converging, crossing one
another, making an inverted image on the retina, and after this a motion,
let it be a vibration or a rush of nervous fluid, or whatever else you are
pleased to suppose, along the optic nerve, a propagation of this motion
to the brain itself, and as many more different motions as you choose ;
still, at the end of these motions, there is something which is not a motion,
there is a feeling or sensation of color. Whatever number of motions we
may be able to interpolate, and whether they be real or imaginary, we shall
still find, at the end of the series, a motion antecedent and a color conse
quent." AMill s Logic, pp. 486, 487.
XlX 5*
54 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
our consciousness of separate, personal existence. He reasons
thus :
" When I turn my reflection on myself, I never can perceive
this self without some one or more perceptions ; nor can I ever
perceive any thing but the perceptions. It is the composition
of these, therefore, which forms the self. Suppose the mind to
be reduced even below the life of an oyster ; suppose it to have
only one perception, as of thirst or hunger. Consider it in that
situation. Do you conceive any thing but merely that percep
tion ? Have you any notion of self, or substance ? If not, the.
addition of other perceptions can never give you that notion.
The annihilation, which some people suppose to follow upon
death, and which entirely destroys this self, is nothing but an
extinction of all particular perceptions, love and hatred, pain
and pleasure, thought and sensation. Philosophers begin to be
reconciled to the principle, that we have no idea of external sub
stance, distinct from the ideas of particular qualities. This must
pave the way for a like principle with regard to the mind, that
we have no notion of it, distinct from the particular perceptions.
In short, there are two principles which I cannot render con
sistent, nor is it in my power to renounce either of them ;
namely, that all our distinct perceptions are distinct existences,
and that the mind never perceives any real connection among dis
tinct existences. Did our perceptions either inhere in. some
thing simple and individual, or did the mind perceive some real
connection among them, there would be no difficulty in the case.
For my part, I must plead the privilege of a skeptic, and confess
that this difficulty is too hard for my understanding."
So far the Scotch skeptic. What some call the mind, and
others the person, is, to him, simply a succession of perpetually
fleeting ideas or emotions, in nowise connected with each other,
acknowledging no common ownership, and admitting no reality
or actual being, except as each, during the moment of its con
tinuance, affirms its own existence. The mind is like a string
of beads with the string taken away, each bead being seen or
known to exist only by itself, and for its particular moment, as
the direct knowledge of one must pass away before we can pos-
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 55
sibly gain a knowledge of another. For observe, that, on this
theory, mind is really worse off than matter ; our idea of each
is but a congeries of certain qualities ; but in the latter case, the
qualities or attributes exist and are perceived together, or in a
lump ; while in the former, they exist successively, only one
being known at any one time. In fine, I have a certain sensa
tion or thought, of the reality of which, for the moment, there
can be no doubt ; but it is a fallacy, says Hume, to suppose that
this thought, which is a distinct existence, belongs to ME, another
distinct being, having a continuous existence. I am conscious
of the thought, but not of the person thinking.
Memory cannot prove personality. I am anxious not to over
state Hume s theory, nor to understate his argument, and hope
that I have done justice to both. Perhaps it is wrong to call it
his theory ; Hume had no theory ; his only objec t was to dis
prove the theories and doctrines of other people. He says only
that no other doctrine than this can be proved, that is, demon
strated ; he acknowledges that the difficulty is too hard for his
understanding. Now it is certainly an insufficient answer to
his sophistry to maintain, as Dr. Brown and most of the other
Scotch philosophers have done, that " our knowledge of mind is
only relative," that " we know it only as susceptible of feelings
that have already existed," and to throw the whole burden of
solving the problem upon memory, by which one faculty, they
say, " our mind, simple and indivisible as it truly is, is, as it
were, multiplied and extended, expanding itself over that long
series of sensations and emotions, in which it seems to live again,
and to live with many lives." Memory is more easy to be dis
credited than any other faculty, on account of the mistakes with
which it is often chargeable, the frequent difficulty of distin
guishing between recollections and imaginations. A remem
bered thought differs from an original one in the single respect
of its being accompanied by a belief that it was in the mind be
fore, and that it is now present for the second time. This belief
cannot be substantiated, or proved ; it may be, it sometimes is,
unfounded, a vivid conception having taken the place of a
reality. Memory alone, then, cannot establish beyond a doubt
56 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
the separate, continuous existence of self, cannot fully support
the idea of personality ; and I have already given reasons for
saying, that the vague and abstract notion of substance, being
assumed as the common substratum of material and intellectual
phenomena, leaves it doubtful whether the body or the mind is
the person.
The fact of self-consciousness stated. But we need not de
spair of the attempt to confirm our own personality against all
metaphysical cavils, if we consider each particular personal
existence as a fact, and then endeavor to prove it by the usual
methods of physical inquiry ; though the argument must de
pend, of course, on the facts of consciousness, and not on those
furnished by the senses. Let me ask you, then, for a time, to
discard the word mind, as the fruitful source of vague specu
lation and error, and to look at that of which it is a mere
synonyme, at the man himself.* The sentient, thinking be
ing, which I call self, is an absolute unit. Duality or complexity
cannot be predicated of it in any intelligible sense. Personality
is indivisible ; " I " am one. Conceive of yourself, if you can,
as divided into two persons, or as separated from yourself, or as
multiplied in any manner whatever ; the supposition is an ab
surdity, and the language in which it is conveyed is immediately
felt to be ludicrous. You can conceive of an arm, or a leg, or
any part of the body, being separated from you ; there is no
difficulty in that. But the idea of personality remains one and
indivisible, sometimes to torture us with remorse for crime com
mitted long before, sometimes to sustain and cheer the drooping
spirit, when all else is lost, with the assured hope, that this unity
of being is indestructible, and shall survive the dissolution of the
body and the grave. For the idea of personal identity and
oneness alone supports the consciousness of responsibility ; the
* " That which is called I is a living reality, and though mind were
annihilated, it would remain a repository of given facts." Psychology, or
the science of mind, ought rather to be called the science of man himself;
for, as has been acutely observed, if my mind is not myself, then the uni
verse resolves itself into three orders of existence ; 1st, mind; 2d, matter;
3d, what I call me, to whom the changes of the other two are known.
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 57
guilty man cannot escape from himself, though human law be a
feeble and tardy avenger of wrong.
Self has no plurality of organs or faculties. This individual
being, or self, is capable of acting in different ways ; and for
convenience of speech and classification, these modes of action
have been arranged as the results of different faculties ; though,
in truth, it is no more proper to attribute to the person distinct
powers and organs for comparison, memory, and judgment, than
to give to the body separately a walking faculty, a lifting fac
ulty, a jumping faculty, and so on. In the one case, these fac
ulties are but different aspects of the same mental poiver ; in the
other, but different applications of the same muscular strength.
To attribute to me the organ of memory, is no more than to say
that / am able to remember, the person who remembers being
one and the same with him who judges and feels. Yet this
classification of mental phenomena seems to imply a complexity
of being, and, for this reason alone, it has always furnished the
chief support for the several theories of materialism. The
groundwork of these systems entirely falls away, when we con
sider that this division of organs is only verbal, as the real di
vision is of a plurality of functions exercised by the same being.
Seeing differs from hearing, because two distinct organs of the
body are exercised for different ends ; but when the two acts
become entirely mental, as -in the case of memory, the distinc
tion between them is done away ; I recall the features of a
landscape with which I was once familiar, by the same kind of
effort which brings to mind the successive notes of a strain of
music heard long ago. More facility may be gained by prac
tice with one class of recollections than with another ; this does
not affect the nature of the process, but only its rapidity.
Immediate consciousness of self. How we come to a knowl
edge of self, or to this consciousness o personality, whether
mediately, by an act of judgment, knowing that each sensation
or thought must have a substratum or substance in which it in
heres, and hence inferring what we are not directly conscious
of; or whether we gain it immediately, being equally, and at
the same moment, conscious of the sensation and of the sentient
58 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
being, is a question that need not detain us long. A thought
is but the phase, or aspect, for the moment, of the thinking be
ing ; it is but the abstract expression of the fact expressed in
the words, " I think." If we speak of it as " a state of mind,"
the convenience of language compels us to regard it abstractly ;
but looking upon it as an act, we consider the real occurrence
in its entireness. Take one of the appetites, for instance ; to
have " the sensation of hunger " is an abstract and general ex
pression, applicable to any number of cases ; but in any par
ticular case, it signifies nothing unless interpreted to mean " /
am hungry." The subject and object of thought are thus in
separably blended together in every act of thinking, and can no
more be separated from each other in reality than two polar
forces. When we reflect upon a sensation that has passed away,
we may consider it by abstraction, first, in regard to the
object, and then it is called a sensation of color, hardness, or
something else ; or, secondly, in regard to the subject, and then
I have a conception of self as performing some act, or experi
encing some affection. This apperception, as Leibnitz calls it,
or direct consciousness of self, seems to me an invariable con
comitant of mental action.* The attention, indeed, may be
concentrated on the object of thought, and then the personal
consciousness is not remembered. Just so, a person may be
absorbed in a reverie while loud music is sounding near him,
and pay no attention to it ; it is usually said, that he does not
hear it ; but this cannot be, as his faculty of hearing remains
unimpaired, the vibrations must reach his ears, and, in fact, if
* Properly speaking, consciousness is an attribute, not of mind, but of me.
When mind is objectified, or made an object of thought, it is not mind which
is conscious of its own changes, but I am conscious of those changes.
" For to change and to be cognizant of change ; for a thing to be in a par
ticular state, and to be aware that it is in this state, is surely not one and
the same fact, but two totally distinct and separate facts." Herein is a
fundamental difference between matter and me ; for matter is not cognizant
of its own changes is not aware of its state.
Eor the substance of this note and the preceding one, I am indebted to
some excellent articles on the Philosophy of Consciousness in " Blackwood s
Magazine "for 1838.
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 59
the music suddenly stops, he is roused from his abstraction by
the absence of the accustomed sound, just as one dozing in
church is waked when the preacher has ended his sermon. In
truth, he hears every note, but instantly forgets it, from the lack
of attention ; and at the close, of course, he has forgotten the
whole. Just so, a person thinking is never conscious of a
thought without being conscious of himself at the same instant ;
his attention may be directed either to the object or the subject,
according to the wish or exigency of the moment. If laboring
under acute pain, the phrase which expresses the state of his
mind at any instant is, " I suffer ; " for the abstract sensation of
pain would have no interest for him, except as self enters into
or endures it.
What is personality. If this be the correct view, and I can
see no valid objection to it, the idea of personality is fixed on
an immovable basis. Self is an indivisible unit, a monad, in
technical phrase, endowed with intelligence and activity ; and
ive are directly conscious of it in itself, and in its passing
into thought and act, without being compelled to infer its exist
ence from these manifestations. If we only inferred the sub
stance from the attributes, we could not conceive of it unless in
the exercise of those attributes, any more than we can con
ceive of matter without its qualities, without extension, form,
solidity, or color. But we can conceive of our personal existence
in the intervals both of thought and action. A consciousness of
existence underlies the exercise of every function of mental
life. The celebrated argument of Descartes, " I think, there
fore I am," has been objected to, and with reason, on the ground
that the conclusion merely repeats what is, not merely implied
in the premise, but formally stated in it. Thought is but a
mode of action, and cannot be conceived as a reality without
the agent, though it may be considered separately by abstrac
tion. *
* From the writer, already cited, on the Philosophy of Consciousness,
I borrow another illustration of the fact, that our knowledge of self ia
direct and immediate.
" The child s employment of language previous to his use of the word
60 THE IDEA OF SELF, Oil PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
Why self cannot be defined. But it is said that we cannot
describe self, or give any definition of personality, except by
enumerating its attributes, or the acts of which it is capable.
Hence it is inferred, that we know nothing more of it than of
matter, which can be described only as the unknown substratum
of certain qualities that are evident to sense. But all simple
I, may be accounted for upon the principle of imitation, or, at any rate,
it must be considered as a mere illustration of the general law of cause
and effect. But neither association, nor the principle of imitation, nor any
conceivable modification of the law of cause and effect, will account for
the child s use of the word I. In originating, and using this term, he
reverses or runs counter to all these laws, and more particularly performs
a process diametrically opposed to any act of imitation. Take an illustra
tion of this. A child hears another person call a certain object a table ;
and the power of imitation naturally leads him to call the same thing, and
any similar thing, a table. Suppose, next, that the child hears this per
son apply to himself the word I. In this case, too, the power of imita
tion would naturally lead the child to call that man I. But is this what
the child does ? No. As soon as he becomes conscious, he ceases, so far
at least as the word I is concerned, to be an imitator. He still applies
the word table to the objects to which other people apply that term ; and
in this he imitates them. But with regard to the word I, he applies this
expression to a thing totally different from that which he hears all other
people applying it to. They apply it to themselves, but he does not apply
it to them, but to himsdf; and in this, he is not an imitator, but the absolute
originator of a new notion.
"Is it objected, that, in the use of the word I/ the child may still be
considered as an imitative creature, inasmuch as he merely applies to him
self a word which he hears other people applying to themselves, having
borrowed the application of it from them ? Oh ! vain and short-sighted
objection! As if this very fact did not necessarily imply and prove that
he has, first of all, originated within himself the notion expressed by the
word I, (namely, the notion of his conscious self,) and thereby, and
thereby only, has become capable of comprehending what they mean by it.
In the use and understanding of this word, every man must be altogether
original. No person can teach to another its true meaning and right appli
cation ; for no two human beings ever use it, or ever can use it, in the
same sense, or apply it to the same being. The word I, in my mouth, as
applied to you, would prove me to be a madman. The word I, in your
mouth, as applied to me, would prove you to be the same. Therefore, I
cannot, by any conceivability, teach you what it means, nor can you teach
me." Blackwood, vol. xliii. p. 790.
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 61
ideas are incapable of definition, and the only mode of describ
ing them is to enumerate the occasions on which they rise, or
are suggested to the mind. Wherever there is complexity, the
several parts can be distinguished, and a complete list of these
will constitute a description of the object, which will be intelli
gible to one who has had no sensible evidence of its existence.
But if the idea be simple, no account of it can be understood
except by those who know it, or have had experience of it
already. Colors are simple sensations*, and the impossibility of
defining or describing them is proved by the familiar fact, that
no form of words can convey the slightest notion of them to
a person blind from his birth. The word "green" may be
explained by saying that it is the color of the foliage, or " blue "
as the color of the sky ; and this is enough for one who has
seen the aspect of external nature ; but it is no definition, and
conveys no knowledge to him who has never had the faculty of
vision.
The idea of self belongs to the same category with all our
simple sensations, and with the more abstruse ideas of time,
space, motion, and the like. All are indefinable, because indi
visible ; they cannot be described, because they have no com
plexity of parts. But who doubts our knowledge, or questions
the reality, of motion, or light, or time, because they cannot be
explained by any form of words, or, what is the same thing,
cannot be resolved into simpler ideas ? The unity of personality,
then, which is the important point for present consideration, is
established by the very argument which is brought to do away
with the reality of the idea of person altogether.
The ancient philosophers and the schoolmen were guilty of
much solemn trifling, in, their vain attempts to define these
simple ideas. Thus " motion " was explained to be " the act of
a being in power so far forth as in power ; " and " light " to be
" the act of perspicuity so far forth as it is perspicuous." The
inanity and uselessness of such definitions are now generally
admitted, though Lord Monboddo attempted to defend them.
It is justly observed by Locke, that " the modern philosophers,
who have endeavored to throw off the jargon of the schools, and
6
62 THE IDEA OP SELF, OK PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
speak intelligibly, have not much better succeeded in defining
simple ideas, whether by explaining their causes, or otherwise.
The atomists, who define motion to be a passage from one place
to another, what do they more than put one synonymous word
for another ? For is it not at least as proper and significant to
say, passage is a motion from one place to another, as to say,
motion is a passage ? this is to translate, and not to define 9
The impossibility of defining or describing an idea, therefore, is
no argument against the existence, either of the idea, or of the
thing to which it corresponds, or against our having a distinct
knowledge of it as a reality. Personality, or self, is as fully
known, and as distinctly conceived, as motion or light.
No analogy between the qualities of matter and the acts of
mind. There is another reason for denying this parallel
between mind and matter, in which it is assumed, that our
knowledge of each is merely relative. Material substance, it is
true, is known to me only as something which is extended,
figured, colored, hard, etc., these qualities being all conceived
to exist together, or at the same moment ; and the conception
of these qualities being taken away, nothing remains, at any
rate, nothing which is distinct and conceivable. Now mind or
person may be described in a parallel manner, as something
which thinks, feels, wills, judges, etc, ; but these are not quali
ties, not attributes, but acts ; and they are not conceived to
exist together, or to be performed all at the same moment ; they
are done successively, and what is really attributed to the per
son at any one moment is, not the acts themselves, but the
capacity of performing those acts. Of course, I can conceive
of the person when this capacity is latent, or not exerted, that
is, of mind m the intervals both of thought and action. But I
cannot conceive of any particular body except as the seat of all
its attributes, and as continually manifesting these attributes*
Imagine, if you can, a lump of matter, which has no extension,
no figure, no solidity, no color, none of its usual qualities*
It is impossible. But you can conceive of yourself both as
thinking, or as resting from thought ; as sentient, or with all the
senses closed; as exerting a volition, or as entirely passive.
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 63
Stating the same argument in other terms, I say that reasoning
from attributes *or qualities to the substance which supports
them, is a proper inference, that being inferred which is not
directly known or perceived ; but from actions to an agent is
no inference at all, but a mere descent from an abstraction to a
reality, the object of immediate knowledge or perception
being, not the act, but the person acting. It is no inference
from my perception of a triangle, to say that it has three angles ;
this is a part of the perception, a part of the meaning or defini
tion of the word. But the existence of a luminous body some
where, though it be not directly seen, is an inference from the
light which it diffuses, and which is seen.
Self is one and indivisible. I have dwelt at some length on
this point, at the risk of seeming tedious and abstruse, because it
is one of cardinal importance, and this doctrine respecting it has
not been clearly set forth and defended, so far as I know, by any
English writer on the philosophy of mind. It is the only view
which seems to me to afford positive proof of the immateriality
of the soul, or the person. Matter is essentially complex and
divisible ; the smallest particle of it has still an upper and an
under-side, and we can conceive of these two being separated
from each other. Mind, or person, as already remarked, is es
sentially indivisible. The being which I call self, or, to use the
modern jargon, the me, is an absolute unit. For a person to
speak of himself in the plural number, except as a figure of
speech, is instantly perceived to be an absurdity, as much so,
as to speak of a round square. The doctrine of atoms, or ulti
mate particles in matter, however convenient it may be as an
hypothesis, for representing the supposed groundwork of certain
facts in chemistry, must always remain a hypothesis, alike inca
pable of proof, and even of distinct conception. " If the atomic
theory be put forward," says Dr. Whewell, " as asserting that
chemical elements are really composed of atoms, that is, of such
particles not further divisible, we cannot avoid remarking, that,
for such a conclusion chemical research has not afforded, nor
can afford, any satisfactory evidence whatever." As a matter
64 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
of fact, no one will assert that we can arrive at ultimate parti
cles in matter, or have sensible evidence that they exist.
The body is extraneous to the man himself. Matter, then, is
necessarily divisible, or complex, in all cases ; mind, or person,
is necessarily indivisible ; for a denial of the proposition "7
am one" is not merely false, but absurd, this being a truth of
intuition. An inevitable corollary from this doctrine is, that
the complex material frame, with its numberless adaptations
and arrangements, in which this being is lodged, is truly foreign
from the man himself, having a kind of connection with him, in
reality, but one degree more intimate than that of his clothes.
The body is the curiously contrived machine through which the
man communicates with the material world. It needs but little
reflection to convince one, that his corporeal limbs and organs
are but mechanical means and tools constantly within his reach,
controlled by his single intelligence, and executing the behests
of his undivided will, which is sovereign in its own domain.
The eye is but his instrument to see with, the ear is his trumpet
for communicating sound to him, the leg is his steed, and the
arm his soldier. These outward organs and implements may
tire in their uses, like willing servants that are yet overtasked ;
they may be worn out, become palsied, and decay ; many of
them may even be severed from the conscious agent whose
property they are, yet the loss does not impair the sovereignty
of his reason or the unity of his intelligence. The windows
through which we look out upon the material world may be
darkened, but the memory and the imagination are busy within,
and the scenes which delighted our youth still pass before us
in rapid and perpetual succession. Sleep relaxes the strained
muscles, gives repose to the tired limbs, and shuts the wearied
sense, the actual and material world to our apprehension ceas
ing to exist; but the mind, the man, claims no rest from his ap
propriate toil, but pursues his task in the world of dreams. All
the proper and exclusive functions of the soul are then dis
charged as readily and continuously as in our waking hours.
Reason and recollection, judgment, fancy, the desires and the
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 65
affections, still exercise their office ; and the will, though it has
lost control for a time of its actual servants through their fa
tigue, still governs an ideal kingdom, and spurs its fancied min
isters. There is no good reason to believe, that sleep ever ex
tends beyond the body, or suspends the exercise of a single
function of purely intellectual life.
This view of the body as something extraneous to the man,
as alike his covering and his instrument, the house which he
lives in, and the nicely fashioned apparatus that executes his
will and gratifies his passions, appears to me so natural and
obvious, that it seems difficult to account for the practical mate
rialism of common opinion on the subject. Even the respect
which is paid to the remains of the dead, so far as it goes beyond
the pleasing association which invests with a kind of sacredness
every article or ornament once used by the loved and lost,
and in ordinary cases it goes much further, seems alike irra
tional and unchristian. Many portions of the body may be
removed, many of the organs become unfit for use, without im
pairing, in the slightest degree, the sufferer s conscious personal
ity and intelligence. The particles of the whole are in a state
of constant flux and renovation, so that man changes his body
only a little less frequently than he does his coat.
Closeness of the temporary union of mind with body. And
viewed at any one moment, however close and intimate the
union may appear, the body still seems to show its ministerial
character, and to acknowledge in every part the sovereignty of
one undivided and separate will. Sensation extends to every
part of it, every fibre is instinct with life, and the dominion of
the will is absolute and immediate over every muscle and joint,
as if the whole fabric and its tenant were one homogeneous
system. The mind tires not of its supremacy, and is not wea
ried with the number of volitions required to keep every joint
in action, and every organ performing its proper function. It
would not delegate the control of the fingers to an inferior power,
nor contrive mechanical or automatic means for moving the ex
tremities. Within its sphere, it is sole sovereign, and is not
perplexed with the variety and constant succession of its duties,
6*
66 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
extending to every part of the complex structure of which it is
the animating and directing spirit. Sensation is not cumbered
with the multitude of impressions it receives, nor is the fineness
of perception dulled by repeated exercise. The sharpness of its
edge rather improves by use, and we become more heedful of
its lightest intimations. This improvement, however, is wholly
of the inner sense, the man s capacity being enlarged, while the
external organ which is his instrument the eye, for instance
is often injured and sometimes destroyed by excessive or
unguarded use. "It does not appear," says Bishop Butler,
" that the relation of this gross body to the reflecting being is in
any degree necessary to thinking ; to our intellectual enjoyments
or sufferings ; nor, consequently, that the dissolution or aliena
tion of the former by death will be the destruction of those pres
ent powers which render us capable of this state of reflection."
This consideration, indeed, affords no proof, properly so called,
that the mind is immortal ; but it rebuts the presumption, other
wise inevitable, that the death of the body is also the death of
the soul. These rags of mortality, in which we are clothed,
may fall off from us, and be mingled with their kindred dust ;
but this proves only that we have no further use for them, and
and it leaves unimpaired the probability, that death, like sleep,
may be only the portal to a spirit land.
I have heard of a recent case, in a town not far off, in which
a young man, when just entering upon active life and the full
duties of manhood, was attacked by the terrible disease which
physicians call anchylosis, or stiffening of the joints. First one
knee refused its office ; and as this was accompanied with great
pain, and perhaps the nature of the complaint was mistaken, the
leg was amputated, in the hope that the evil would stop there.
But the disease soon passed into the other limb, stiffened the
remaining knee, and then crept on slowly from joint to joint,
making each inflexible as it passed, till the whole lower portion,
of the body was nearly as rigid as iron, and the muscles had no
longer any office to perform. Gradually, then, it moved up
ward, leaving the vertebral column inflexible ; the arms and
hands, which, in anticipation of its approach, had been bent into
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 67
a position most convenient for the sufferer, stiffened there ; the
neck refused to turn or bend, and the body became almost as
immovable as if it had been carved out of the rock. Years
passed between the first appearance of the disease and this
awful completion of its work ; years elapsed after the hapless
patient was thus hardened into stone, and still he lived. Nor
was this all ; his eyes were attacked ; the sight of one was
wholly lost, and the other became so exquisitely sensitive, that
it could seldom be exposed to the light, and never but for a few
moments at a time. And thus he remained for years, blind,
immovable, prisoned in this house of stone, and echoing, we
might suppose, the affecting exclamation of the Apostle, " Who
shall deliver me from the body of this death ? " But no word
of impatience escaped him ; t&e mind was clear and vigorous,
the temper was not soured, the affections were as strong and
clinging as ever. His good sense, his wit, his knowledge of
books, his interest in the passing topics of the day, made his
chamber a favorite resort even of those who might not have
been drawn thither merely by sympathy for his sufferings ; for
not infrequently, he was still exposed to agonizing pain. But
in tne intervals of this distress, his active mind sought and found
employment, and numerous contributions, which this living statue
dictated for a periodical work, are now in print The secret of
his wonderful composure and gentleness may be told in two
words, religious resignation.*
* It cannot be indelicate now to state, that the individual here referred
to was the late James Kennard, Jr., of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. A
volume of selections from his writings, with a sketch of his life and char
acter, prepared by his friend the Rev. Andrew P. Peabody, has been
" printed for private circulation." Mr. Kennard died July 28, 1847, when
he had nearly completed his thirty-second year. For nine years before his
death he was unable to walk ; but " he was joccasionally brought down
stairs till the summer of 1841, when he found that he could no longer bear
removal, except that, with the most careful preparation, and with the
utmost delicacy of touch, he was taken daily from his bed, and placed for
an hour or two in his easy chair." In November, 1844, his eyes were
attacked,, and " the residue of his life was spent with a deep shade over his
face, and in a darkened room." During the paroxysms of pain which ac-
68 THE IDEA OP SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
What says the materialist to a case like this ? Was that
powerless body, maimed, stiffened, blind, hardly animate, was
that the person, the man, still active, inquisitive, industrious,
generous, and affectionate ? or was it only a prison-house, in
which the fettered soul was compelled to await its time of
release ? I envy not the feelings or the intellect of him who
could stand by the bedside of that patient sufferer, and still dis-
believe that " there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the
Almighty giveth them understanding."
Philosophy of the ancients on this subject. We may gather
instruction on this point even from the wise men of ancient
times, upon whose eyes the light of direct revelation never
dawned. The philosophical Athenian, in describing the death
bed of the elder Cyrus, makes the dying monarch thus address
the children who were gathered round him: "For I was
never able, my children, to persuade myself that the soul, as
long as it was in a mortal body, lived, but when it was removed
from this, that it died ; neither could I believe that the soul
ceased to think when separated from the unthinking and sense
less body; but it seemed to me most probable, that when pure
and free from any union with the body, then it became most
wise." Or take the equivalent remark, equivalent in respect
to the essential difference between mind and matter, in
which Plato anticipates the common argument far the immate
riality of the thinking principle, which is founded on the con
stant flux and change of the material particles that make up our
bodily organs : " One would rather say, that each soul wears
out many bodies, especially if it should live far many years ; for
companied this inflammation of the eves, and which were generally about
a week in duration, " he was able to speak only in the faintest whisper,,
and could hardly bear the sound of another voice/ But his sisters and
numerous friends were eager to serve as his readers and amanuenses, and!
his literary pursuits were soon resumed with as much mental activity and!
cheerfulness as ever. His contributions, both in verse and prose, to the
Knickerbocker, a magazine published at New York, may be traced! by his
signature of " J. K. Jr."; they were frequent, up to the very month in
which he died.
THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 69
if the body wastes away and is destroyed, the man yet living,
while the soul always weaves anew that which is worn out,
then it certainly follows, that the soul must have its last cover
ing when it perishes, and that it dies only just before that final
vesture."
I do not accumulate these arguments and illustrations to estab
lish the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, the proof of
which, from the light of nature, has been already admitted to
be insufficient. The essential unity of the person is contrasted
with the essential complexity of matter only to show, that the
body is but the house we live in, or the garment which covers
us for a season. But an indivisible atom is not necessarily
indestructible, any more than it is ingcnerable. If it cannot
ease to exist, it must be that it exists necessarily, and, there
fore, it never began to exist. Hence, the argument proves the
preexistence, quite as strongly as it does the immortality, of the
soul ; and it was so understood by Plato and his followers, who
argue from the antecedent life of man to the subsequent, or that
which follows the night of the grave.
The affections recognize the unity and continuity of self.
The continuity and identity of our personal existence amidst
the ceaseless changes and renovations, the growth, progress, and
decay, of the material structure which we inhabit, form the basis
of the relations in which we stand to all other beings. The
affections and the duties of life are equally founded upon this
unity of personality ; this alone makes us responsible both to
human and Divine law. " Person" says Locke, " is a forensic
term, appropriating actions and their merit, and so belongs only
to intelligent agents, capable of a law, and of happiness and
misery. This personality extends itself beyond present exist"
ence to what is past by consciousness, whereby it becomes con
cerned and accountable, and owns and imputes to itself past
actions upon the same ground, and for the same reason, that it
does the present. And, therefore, whatever past actions it can-
not reconcile or appropriate to itself, it can no more be con
cerned in than if they had never been done."
Our social feelings, also, regard this sameness of person, or
70 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE.
self, behind the numerous and important changes which our out
ward frames exhibit. The body wastes, the skin shrivels, the
joints and muscles languidly perform their office, and the hair
becomes thin and gray. Not a line is preserved, in that bent
and decrepit form, of the fresh and elastic vigor of youth, of the
quick eye, ready hand, and ruddy lineaments of childhood and
maturer years. The features and general aspect of the subject
have wholly changed, and the artist must begin the portrait
anew. Time has left no indistinct traces of his work, also, on
the character and intellect. Enthusiasm is checked, impulse
has given way to reflection, appetite is cooled, and the enjoy
ments of boisterous youth and strenuous manhood pall upon the
dulled and satiated sense. But the eye of affection still discerns
the same person beneath the altered aspect, and the father,
brother, son, or friend is loved and cherished still. Instinc
tively, in the growth of that affection, has the real being, the man,
been separated from his accidents, from his whole environment
of outward circumstances, including those of form and feature,
no less than of social position and the world s contumely or re
spect. If the feeling be true, the object of it is one and indi
visible, and knows no change. Thus, in our friends as well as
in ourselves, in our observation and judgment of others, as much
as in the depths of our own consciousness, do we involuntarily
separate the transient from the permanent, acknowledge inherent
and essential oneness in the midst of complexity and transmu
tation, and under the fading vesture of time, a garment laid in
shifting colors, discern the inflexible features of eternity.
THE IDEA OP CAUSE. 71
CHAPTER IV,
THE IDEA OF CAUSE, AND THE NATURE OF CAUSATION.
of the last chapter*. I have spoken of the origin
and nature of our idea of personality, or rather of our knowledge
of self, and vindicated that knowledge from the metaphysical ob
jections and cavils that have been brought against ifc by abstract
reasoning. The object was, to establish a distinction, not merely
between material and intellectual phenomena, which no one can
aifect to question, but between the substance of mind or person
and material substance, and thus to show that the difference be
tween them is essential, instead of phenomenal ; or, in other
words, that this difference does not depend merely on the dis
similarity of their outward manifestations. I wished to prove,
that we have no idea whatever of material substance, except by
abstraction, and no proof of its existence, except by inference
from its qualities or attributes, of which alone we have any im
mediate knowledge. But personality manifests itself externally,
not by qualities, but by actions ; and these occur, not simultane
ously, but in succession ; while self, and the perception of self,
or consciousness, being continuous, we know it in the intervals
of thought or action, and consequently our knowledge of it is
direct, and not merely an inference. We know, also, that person
is absolutely simple and indivisible, and is thus distinguishable
from its present house of flesh, or bodily covering, which, like
all other matter, is essentially complex and infinitely divisible,
and which, in fact, is going through a constant process of waste
and restoration, the man alone remaining unchanged. This
conclusion, far from being metaphysical in character, is a fact
of universal and continuous observation, and as such is inwoven
with our principles of conduct ; it supports the idea of responsi
bility, and forms the basis of the social affections.
The idea and the law of causation. The fact which we have
72 THE IDEA OF CAUSE,
thus attempted to establish is one of the first class, as it relates
to things which exist ; a consideration of the second class, or of
events which take place, brings us to the idea of cause, or the
beginning of existence. The inquiry into the origin and nature
of this idea is a fundamental one, as in the former case ; for on
its issue depends every reasonable anticipation of future events,
and all real knowledge of those which have passed. The exact
sciences relate exclusively to present existences ; the mathema
tician studies the laws of number and of space, both of which
are applicable to simultaneous phenomena. Events are suc
cessive phenomena ; and the study of them carries us both into
the past and the future, and depends in almost every case upon
our notion of cause.
The law of causation may be stated thus : Every event which
takes place has a cause. This law is not applicable to things
which exist, and much confusion and unsound reasoning have
arisen from the attempt to extend it to them. I cannot infer
merely from the present existence of a stone, a plant, or an ani
mal, that it must have had a cause ; for all I know, it may have
existed for ever. But if already aware of the fact, that at some
definite epoch it began to exist, that time was when it was not,
then I say, with absolute certainty, that that beginning of its
existence must have been caused by something foreign to itself;
or, more loosely speaking, that the thing itself must have had a
cause. If all things in the universe were motionless and un
changeable, if no event whatever broke the dread uniformity and
monotony of time, though all objects should remain precisely as
they are at this moment, there would be no foundation for rea
soning from effect to cause. The presence of a world would not
enable us to prove the existence of its Creator. But the instant
a change occurs, as soon as a sound is heard, or a leaf falls, or
only quivers on its bough, we declare without hesitation, that
some power or agency is at work ; that the event must have had
a cause. It may be a recondite one ; the ingenuity of man may
have been engaged ever since the foundation of the world in a
vain attempt to discover it ; still we say with perfect confidence,
that it must have existed ; there must have been a cause some
where.
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 73
Efficient causation distinguished from mere succession. I
speak now of causation in its absolute and literal sense, not
merely of an antecedent event, but of an efficient antecedent,
of a cause in respect to which, if it were completely known, we
could tell beforehand, or prior to all experience, what would be
its effect. Those who are familiar with the speculations of
philosophers upon this subject will tell me, that I am here
adopting the metaphysical notion of cause ; I admit it, but I say
that it is also the popular notion, the ordinary significance of a
very common word, that people generally never think of at
taching any other idea to it, and never find any difficulty in
distinguishing the succession of cause and effect, properly so
called, from an ordinary sequence, or from the accidental simul-
taneousness of two otherwise unconnected events. The falling
of the spark, they say, is the cause of the explosion, meaning
thereby the efficient cause ; and they distinguish this case very
clearly from that of two clocks striking the hour in immediate
succession, never supposing, in this latter instance, that the one
operates on the other, and obliges it to strike, though they may
have kept exact time with each other for many years. " Causa
autem ea est, quce id efficit, cujus est causa. Non sic causa in- .
telligi debet, ut, quod cuique antecedat, id ei causa sit, sed quod
cuique efficienter antecedat" This fact, that the popular accep
tation of the word cause is also its strict and scientific meaning,
it is important to remember, as will be seen hereafter.
True causes cannot be discovered in the world of matter.
Now, in ordinary physical inquiry, in the world of matter, are
we able to perceive and recognize such causes ? Admitting, as
every rational being must do, that every event, change, or be
ginning of existence must have an efficient cause, can we dis
cover this cause, and show beforehand that it must produce this
particular event, and no other, and why it produces it ? The
answer may appear startling to some, but there is no doubt of
its correctness. If there is any one conclusion at which both
physical and metaphysical inquirers, after a long dispute, have
at last arrived with almost complete accord, it is this : that we
are not able to discern the real cause of any event or change in
7
74 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
the outward universe, and that the search after such causes is
hopeless ; in the outward universe, or world of matter, I say,
because the case of mind must be considered afterwards. We
do not know, that the falling of the spark was the cause of the
explosion of the powder ; most probably, it was not. We do
not know, that the man s taking poison was the cause of his
death ; most likely, it was not. This statement is not meant to
be paradoxical, but simply explicit and clear ; I hope to prove
satisfactorily that it is well founded.
Observe, then, that all which we discern, in any case, is the
events themselves, and not the connection between those events.
I see the falling of the spark ; I see and hear the explosion
which immediately follows. I have sensible evidence only of
this, that two events happened simultaneously and in rapid
succession. Recollecting other instances, or learning them from
the testimony of others, I may have reason to believe, that
these two events have always taken place together, or that the
one has never occurred without being immediately followed by
the other. Believing, also, that the course of nature is uniform,
it seems very probable, that this succession will always take
place in future. I perceive nothing but the events; I know
that they are simultaneous, or nearly so ; and this is all that I
know. I do not see any necessary connection between them ;
and if I hastily infer, that there must be such a connection,
because the two always happen in close succession, the case of
the two clocks reminds me that invariable antecedence and con
sequence do not prove any connection whatever. Cause implies
power or force, which is never directly perceived ; but we infer
that it exists, because the event happens, or the effect is pro
duced.
It is often loosely said, that one event is the cause of another,
when the two are, in fact, separated by quite a long succession
of intermediate causes. Thus, it is said, that the stroke of the
hammer on the bell is the cause of the sound which we hear ;
strictly speaking, however, this stroke only precedes an agita
tion of the particles of which the bell is composed ; this agita
tion is said to cause a vibration in the elastic medium, the
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 75
air, which extends to our ears; this vibration seems to pro
duce a change, in the auditory nerve ; which is followed, prob
ably, by some affection of a part, or of the whole mass, of the
brain ; and then comes, at last, our sensation of sound. In this
final sequence, which involves the connection between mind and
matter, we are ready to admit, that we know only the fact, that
the affection of the brain is followed by a sensation, and do not
know the cause of this fact, or the reason why it is thus fol
lowed. We are led to make this admission, because our power
of detecting intermediate sequences stops here ; we cannot
point out any links of connection between the effect on the brain
and the sensation, as we did between the stroke of the hammer
and the agitation of the nerve. The former sequence, then, is
admitted to be an ultimate fact, or, what is the same thing, we
say that the cause of it is inexplicable. Yet it is certain that
we ought to make the same admission as to all the other se
quences, each one of which, taken by itself, is an ultimate fact,
and equally inexplicable. Why should a blow from a hammer
be diffused over a considerable surface, so as to throw all the
particles of a large bell, made of solid metal, into agitation ? W^e
do not know. But this is one instance out of a large class of
similar ones ; we are accustomed to perceive concussion followed
by agitation of the parts of the two bodies which strike together,
and this familiarity of the fact makes it seem less inexplicable ;
it is not wonderful or strange, because we know a vast number
of similar cases, and, therefore, we suppose it is not difficult to
be understood. In truth, we know nothing about it, except that
one event is invariably followed by the other ; and this knowl
edge of constant succession, as we have seen, is very differ
ent indeed from a perception of the efficient cause.
How the physical inquirer is said to discover causes. What
is meant, then, when we speak of the success of the physical
inquirer, the chemist, the meteorologist, or the mechanist, for
instance, in pointing out the causes of material phenomena ?
We mean, that he has succeeded in detecting some of these
intermediate sequences, and in showing, that they are of the
same character with a class of other well-known facts, all of
76 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
which are supposed to have a common cause, though we have
never thought of asking what that cause is. A phenomenon,
which formerly appeared to be anomalous, or the only specimen
of its class, is in this manner reduced to the same rank or class
with a great number of familiar events. The discovery, then,
consists in finding out the proper classification of the fact, not in
ascertaining its cause. And, further, when we have a great
number of phenomena, so similar in character that it is reason
able to believe they are all produced by one cause, though we
know not what that cause is, yet we give a name to it. And
afterwards, should any fact, apparently anomalous, or of a dif
ferent order, be reduced to this class, then the name becomes
applicable to this fact also, and we say, in ordinary parlance,
that the cause of it is discovered. Let me illustrate this a little
further.
Gravity is a law, bid not an efficient cause. When Newton
discovered that the planets circle round the sun in the same
manner in which a stone thrown by the hand describes a curve
before reaching the earth, he may be said to have explained the
former phenomenon, by bringing it into the same class with cer
tain results which have long been familiar to us. But the
explanation was only relative, not absolute. The latter phe
nomenon is, in reality, no more explicable than the former ; he
did not pretend to know the cause of the stone s falling to the
ground, any more than of the revolution of the planets. It was
something to be able to arrange these apparently heterogeneous
results in the same class, and gravity was a convenient name to
apply to the whole. But the supposition that gravity was an
occult cause, inherent in matter, Newton earnestly repelled,
declaring that it was inconceivable, and that the motions " must
be caused by an agent, acting constantly according to certain
laws." So Franklin showed, that a thundercloud and the
charged conductor of an electrical machine manifested the same
phenomena, and might, therefore, be classed together ; sparks
were obtained from both ; Leyden jars were charged from them ;
light bodies were attracted and repelled, in the same way, by
both; so that it was reasonable to believe, that the same
T.HE IDEA OF CAUSE. 77
agency, whatever it might be, was acting in both cases. What
this agency was, he did not even guess. The cause of electric
action, whether in the excited cloud or in the excited tube, was
just as obscure as ever. Once more ; chemists observed, that
different substances, when brought into close contact, sometimes
remained distinct, and sometimes united with each other, in
various, but regular, proportions ; and these capacities, of coal
escing with one class of bodies, and of remaining unaffected by
another, are called chemical " affinities." This is a convenient
generalization, and has properly received a specific name ;
though the common appellation throws no light on the dtouse of
the phenomenon, which remains an impenetrable secret. To
say, that a certain action is caused by the operation of chemical
affinities, is only to arrange it with a large class of other ob
served appearances, equally obscure as to their origin and essen
tial character, but agreeing so far as to render it probable that
one cause, could it ever be discovered, would be found common
to them all.
Further discoveries would not reveal true causes. Now let us
go a step further, and suppose, that the progress of discovery
has made known certain facts lying behind the phenomena in
question, to which they may all be referred. Let us suppose,
that all bodies which gravitate towards each other, are found to
be embosomed in a subtile, ambient fluid, which connects them,
as it were, into one system ; that the positive and negative
states of electricity are resolvable into the presence of two
fluids, standing in certain relations to each other ; and that sub
stances show chemical affinity for each other only when they
are in opposite electrical conditions. Still, we have only
advanced a step in the generalization, and the real, efficient
cause of the appearances is still hidden from us by an impene
trable veil. Gravitation is now referred to the communication
of motion by impulse ; electricity, to the combination and sep
aration of different fluids ; affinity, to the attraction or repulsion
of these fluids. The latter classes of phenomena are more gen
eral, but not a whit more explicable, than the former. We have
now fewer causes to seek for, but not one of these few has been
7*
78 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
discovered. When we have resolved electricity, or gravitation,
into the presence of an elastic medium, it is a mere figure of
speech, to say that we have discovered the cause of the electric
phenomena, or of gravity. That is just as far off as ever.
Relative distinguished from absolute knowledge. One is often
amused with the tendency of the special students of a particular
science, to exaggerate the importance and precision of the les
sons which it teaches, or of improvements which have recently
been made in its theory. The geologist, for instance, informs us
that the date of certain great changes which have taken place
in the <earth s crust, is fully and clearly ascertained ; though he
knows only, that the acts of disruption and upheaving were sub
sequent to the deposition of the rocks in strata, or that the Silu
rian formation is older than the chalk. But if asked how old
the chalk is, he can only say, that it is younger than the Silu
rian ; and to the question, when the rocks were deposited, his
answer is, Before they were upheaved. We know not the
dates of either of these events, or how long the intervals were
that separated them, even by approximation, or within millions
of years. Obviously, then, our knowledge of them is not abso
lute, but relative.
The case is precisely similar with the discoveries of science
respecting the causes of material phenomena. The astronomer
tells us, that the cause of the planets revolving in elliptical or
bits is probably the same as that which brings a stone to the
ground : but if asked why the stone falls, his answer must be,
Probably from the same force which carries our earth round
the sun. Observe, now, the errors that arise from the use of
language, and the facility with which words are often imposed
upon us in the place of knowledge. To this unknown cause,
which is only conjectured to be the same in the two cases, the
name of gravity is applied ; and then, to either of the questions
that I have propounded, the man of science wisely answers, that
gravity is the cause of the phenomenon ; and by most persons
this answer is held to be sufficient, as it seems to offer a known
and adequate cause. But it is not so ; gravity is only the mode
in which the machine works, not the cause of that motion. If
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. .79
asked by a child, why the hands of a clock move so steadily and
uniformly round its face, it would not be very satisfactory to
reply, that regularity is the cause of the motion ; to give the lit
tle inquirer any real light upon the subject, we must open the
case, show the internal machinery, and trace back the compli
cated action to the descent of a weight. Just so we can observe
the regularity with which the hands move over the great dial-
plate of nature, which marks out time for us in the heavens ;
and we may call that regularity gravitation, if we please ; but
human beings are like children, who are not permitted to open
the clock-case.*
*
* What are general laws, or laws of nature, as they are generally termed 1
Few phrases are more frequently and glibly used than these, yet in the
minds of most persons, they have but a vague and uncertain signification.
It is worth while, then, to attempt to gain some clear and precise notions
respecting them.
A law of nature is nothing more than a general fact, or rather a general
statement, comprehending under it many similar individual facts. A law is the
result of a classification, and .individual things are classed together on ac
count of some similarity or uniformity that has been discovered between
them.
1 . Objects that exist are classed together on account of their resemblance
to each other. Such classification may consist of several successive steps,
and is the proper work of Natural History. Thus, all objects whatsoever
are divided into three great kingdoms, the Animal, the Vegetable, and the
Mineral. The Animal kingdom is subdivided into four classes, Verte
brates, Molluscs, Articulates, and Radiates or Zoophites. The General Fact,
that all the animals so classed possess the organ or property, which is the
characteristic of the class, is called a Law of Nature. It is a Law of Na
ture, for instance, that all Vertebrates have a spinal cord and a skull in
closing the brain. Another Law of Nature is, that every animal is pro
duced from an egg.
2. Events that take place, also, are classed together on account of their
uniformity. Thus, it is a General Fact, or Law of Nature, that pressure
on a fluid is propagated equally in all directions, and that a heavy body,
if unsupported, falls to the earth. Many of these General Facts are so
familiar, that we never think of formally enunciating them ; " no science,"
says J. S. Mill, " Avas needed to teach men that food nourishes, that water
drowns, or quenches thirst, that the sun gives light and heat, that bodies
fall to the ground." These laws, also, are not necessary truths, but are
founded on mere induction, - often on a not very extensive one. A
newly discovered metal, being found, by a single experiment, to be fusible
80 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
Uniformity of the effects does not always indicate a common
cause. I have said, that the unknown cause is only conjectured
to be the same in the two cases ; this is an important further
limitation of our knowledge Uf the subject, and naturally leads
us to ask, how trustworthy are the grounds of this conjecture.
If an observer from another planet, utterly ignorant of the acr
tions, and the reasons of action, of men like ourselves, were to
survey, from a distance, the evolutions of large bodies of troops
on a parade-ground or a battle-field, he could not fail to be
struck by the precision and uniformity of their movements, the
preservation of the ranks and files in right lines, and the simul
taneous changes in the position and direction of their arms. If
he were to inquire, upon the principles of human science, into
the cause of these regular and parallel motions, he would prob-
at a certain temperature, it is at once declared to be a Law of Nature, that
it does melt, always has melted, and always will melt, at the ascertained
degree of heat. It is certainly possible, though not probable, that another
piece of the metal may be discovered which will not melt at this tempera
ture. A particular event, comprehended under the statement of a Law,
is not properly said to be be caused by the Laiv, but only to be a case, or in
stance, happening under the Law. A cow does not suckle its calf because it
is called a Mammifer, but it is called a Mammifer because it suckles its
calf. So, it is not a law of Hydrostatics, which causes water to remain at
the same level in the two arms of a bent tube ; but the fact, that the water
stands at this level, is ranked among many other facts, which are compre
hended under the general statement, called a Law, of Hydrostatics. Grav
itation does not make the stone fall, but the particular fact, that this stone
fell, is comprehended under the General Fact, or Law, of Gravitation. In
like manner, Gravitation does not make the earth revolve in an elliptical
orbit round the sun ; but the fact that the earth revolves in this manner,
is ranked with the falling of a stone, and with many other facts of a simi
lar character*? under the general statement, or Law, of Gravitation.
Hence it is abundantly evident, to adopt Mr. Mill s language, that " the
expression, Laws of Nature, means nothing but the uniformities which ex
ist among natural phenomena, when reduced to their simplest expression."
The Laws of Nature do not account for, or explain, the phenomena of nature ;
they only describe them. Description and classification are the sole em
ployments of Physical science.
To account for, or explain, the operations of nature, we must have re
course to Metaphysics to something after, or above, nature. We must
ascend to the notion of Cause.
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 81
ably attribute it to the action of some one force, inexplicable to
him, situated at the centre of the field, and operating uni
formly on every rank, and on every individual in the ranks ;
and he would proceed to lay down the laws of its operation,
that is, to note the order of the marches and countermarches,
and to make out the whole theory of these complicated evolu
tions. So long as discipline continued, his theory, doubtless,
would be a very satisfactory one. But if he waited till the
order of review or battle was broken up for the night, he would
see, to his astonishment, the soldiers scattering -in all directions,
and a universal hubbub following that scene of order and
method. He would perceive that there was nothing mechan
ical in the whole matter, but that each soldier had a distinct
principle of action, a separate will and a separate power of mo
tion; and although, for some unknown reason, all had deter
mined to act in concert for a time, preserving their ranks and
mechanically imitating each other, still, for each movement of
each individual, there was an independent volition and a dis
tinct personal cause. It is not necessary for me to apply the
illustration ; substitute weighty bodies, or masses of matter, for
soldiers ancl companies of soldiers, and you have in this theory
the exact counterpart of the scientific man s theory of the uni
verse, as it is commonly understood. I do not yet say that the
theory is false, especially if it be rightly interpreted ; I am only
showing what is the nature of the evidence which entitles us to
attribute all similar phenomena to the operation of a single
cause, when we know not, and never can know, the nature of
that cause.
But I have gone far enough, perhaps, to vindicate the asser
tion with which I began, that we are not able to discern the
real or efficient cause of any event or change in the outward
universe. This inability is now admitted, so far as I know, by
every scientific writer of any reputation, -either in physics or
metaphysics, excepting Dr. Whewell, whose anticipations of the
triumphs of science are rather more glowing than profound. I
borrow a clear statement of the truth on this subject from Mr.
Mill, as a single authority will be enough.
82 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
" What is called explaining one law of nature by another," he
observes, " is but substituting one mystery for another, and does
nothing to render the general course of nature other than mys
terious ; we can no more assign a why for the more extensive
laws than for the partial ones. The explanation may substitute
a mystery which has become familiar, and has grown to seem not
mysterious, for one which is still strange. And this is the
meaning of explanation in common parlance. But the process
with which we are here concerned often does the very contrary ;
it resolves a phenomenon with which we are familiar, into one
of which we previously knew little or nothing; as when the
common fact of the fall of heavy bodies is resolved into a ten
dency of all particles of matter towards one another. It must
be kept constantly in view, therefore, that when philosophers
speak of explaining any of the phenomena of nature, they al
ways mean, pointing out some, not more familiar, but merely
some more general, phenomenon, of which it is a partial exem
plification, or some laws of causation which produce it by their
joint or successive action, and from which, therefore, its con
ditions may be determined deductively."
How physical science is useful. Lest some should think that
this doctrine tends to discredit physical science, by pointing out
the narrowness of its scope, and the hopelessness of all attempts
to go beyond it, let me observe, that the field of research is not
at all diminished, but the objects in it are called by their right
names, and made to appear in their true character. These
sequences of phenomena, or invariable conjunctions of events,
which were improperly supposed to be related to each other as
cause and effect, are still, when stripped of this supposititious
relation, important objects of study, and the discovery of new ones
will affect the calculations and conduct of men just as much as
ever. To return to the examples first given, we do not know
that the spark was the cause of the explosion, or that taking
poison produced death ; but we do know, that the two events
are always united, that one is the invariable consequent of the
other, and this is enough to direct us in action. Experience
loses none of its value as a trustworthy guide of life, though it
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 83
is deprived of some of its factitious importance as a source of
knowledge. The discovery of invariable sequences, of regularity
in the succession of events, is the true aim of physical science.
To distinguish accidental, and therefore infrequent, conjunctions
from such as are constant, to separate the casual proximity in
time of two events, from their permanent relation to each other
as antecedent and consequent, is the only object of the inquirer.
An eclipse of the sun may be followed by a pestilence; a
troubled dream may very soon be succeeded by some great
domestic misfortune. But a brief experience of eclipses and of
dreams will satisfy us, that there is no permanent relation be
tween these two events, nothing but a fortuitous conjunction of
them. On the other hand, the application of heat is always fol
lowed by the boiling of the water, and the sensation of coldness
never fails to result, if the warm hand be placed upon ice.
Permanent sequences are thus distinguished from casual ones ;
but of the true relations of the two events to each other, of the
reason or cause of their proximity, we are just as ignorant in
the latter case as in the former. Previously to all experience,
we have no more reason for supposing that powdered sugar
will dissolve in water, and powdered marble will not, than for
believing that an eclipse of the sun will be followed by an earth
quake. " Gausis autem efficientibus quamque rem cognitis, posse
denique sciri, quidfuturum esset"
To distinguish invariable sequences from necessary connec
tions, Dugald Stewart and others have proposed to call the
former physical causes, and the latter * efficient causes. This
nomenclature is good enough in one respect, as the former are
the only objects of physical inquiry ; but it is faulty, in so far
as it connects the idea of cause in any manner whatever with
such relations. * Physical causes, as they are termed, are only
the constant forerunners and signs of certain natural events ;
the word cause is almost universally understood to mean nothing
but efficient cause.
How invariable sequences are distinguished from accidental
ones. To show both the importance and the difficulty of dis
tinguishing invariable sequences from accidental and unessential
84 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
conjunctions, I borrow an illustration from Mr. Stewart. " Let
us suppose that a savage, who, in a particular instance, had
found himself relieved of some bodily indisposition by a draught
of cold water, is a second time afflicted with a similar disorder,
and is desirous to repeat the same remedy. With the limited
Degree of experience which we have supposed him to possess, it
wc^tild be impossible for the acutest philosopher in his situation
to determine, whether the cure was owing to the water which
was drunk, to the cup in which it was contained, to the fountain
from which it was taken, to the particular day of the month, or
to the particular age of the moon. In order, therefore, to in
sure the success of the remedy, he will very naturally, and very
wisely, copy, as far as he can recollect, every circumstance
which accompanied the first application of it. He will make
use of the same cup, draw the water from the same fountain,
hold his body in the same posture, and turn his face in the same
direction ; and thus all the accidental circumstances in which
the first experiment was made, will come to be associated
equally in his mind with the effect produced."
The man of science, Mr. Stewart might have added, will re
peat the experiment a number of times, leaving out at each trial
one of the attendant circumstances, till he falls upon one, after
the omission of which the desired result no longer follows. He
is then popularly said to have found out the cause of tjie cure ;
but his reason for believing in the efficacy of this one antecedent,
in its necessary connection with the result, is precisely the same
that the savage had for believing in the necessity of all the at
tendant circumstances ; namely, that the application was made,
and the cure followed. And were he to repeat the experiment
a thousand times, he could learn no more than this, the inva
riable attendance of one event upon the other. Why the cure
takes place, he knows not. Lest I should be accused of taking
an extreme case from so imperfect a science as medicine, let me
say, that the power of water to slake one s thirst is ascertained
in precisely the same manner. After the draught, we feel no
longer thirsty ; and this succession of the one event to the other
is all that we know about it.
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 85
The theory which denies that we have any idea of an efficient
cause, I pass now to a consideration of an error in the theory
of causation of precisely the opposite character to that which
has thus far occupied our attention. So evident does it appear
to some philosophers, that we never discern any efficient causes
in nature, that they deny our having any knowledge of them, or
any conception of their existence. The word cause, they say,
whether it be called efficient or not, means nothing but invariable
antecedence. The idea of efficiency, of power, of energy, is a
mere figment of the brain ; it denotes nothing but constancy of
succession. Dr. Brown s words are, "We give the name
\cause~\ to that which has always been followed by a certain
event, is followed by a certain event, and, according to our be
lief, will continue to be followed by that event, as its immediate
consequent; and causation, power, or any other synonymous
words which we may use, express nothing more than this per
manent relation of that which has preceded to that which has
followed." So well satisfied was he of the truth of this doctrine,
that he said his elaborate argument in favor of it appeared to
him very much like an attempt to prove the correctness of the
multiplication-table. Hume and Brown are followed in this re
spect by Mr. Mill, who denies that we have any notion whatever
of power, or force, apart from the substances or events in which
they are supposed to inhere ; he says, " there is nothing in
causation but invariable, certain, and unconditional sequence;"
and that " reason repudiates," though the imagination may re
tain, the idea " of some more intimate connection, of some pe
culiar tie, or mysterious constraint exercised by the antecedent
over the consequent." He even denies the universality and
necessity of the law of causation, or, as he understands it,
the law of invariable antecedence, saying, that although, in
this world of ours, every event is preceded by some other event,
the two forming a constant sequence, yet, for aught we know,
" in some one, for instance, of the many firmaments into which
sidereal astronomy now divides the universe, events may suc
ceed one another at random, without any fixed law."
Confutation of this theory. Against skepticism so extrava-
8
86 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
gant as this, it is only necessary to adduce the fact of which I
reminded you at the beginning of this chapter, that the
popular significance of the word cause is the scientific and
metaphysical meaning of it, the idea being that of efficient cause,
and not merely of a constant forerunner or sign of any event.
I appeal to the consciousness of every one who hears nie, if, by
the relation of cause and effect, he does not understand a fixed
and essential relation, one perfectly distinct from that of mere
succession,. the former event being necessarily followed by the
latter, and the existence of the latter being inconceivable except
as both preceded and produced by its antecedent. When you
say, that the falling of a spark caused the explosion, you mean
something very different from the mere proximity of two 5 suc
cessive strokes upon a belL The idea of power, or force, is per
fectly clear and distinct in your mid ; I ask not now how it
eame there, whether it be legitimately acquired, or a mere
figment of the imagination; but IT is- THERE, as distinguish
able from all your other notions as the idea of unity, or of self,
" What convinces me," says Dr. Reid, " that I have an idea of
power is, that I am conscious that I know what I mean by that
word, and, while I have this consciousness, I disdain equally to
hear arguments for or against my having such an idea." As
the idea is not complex, it cannot be analyzed, and is therefore
indefinable ; but in this respect, it is only on the same footing
with all other simple conceptions.
Paradoxical result of the inquiry. Observe, now, to what
point the discussion has brought us ; to the acknowledgment
that the idea of power, or efficient cause, is one of the simplest
and most familiar conceptions of the human mind ; yet that we
can find no reality corresponding to it in the outward universe.
Every change, every phenomenon, which begins to exist, must
have an efficient cause ; we can no more question this proposi
tion than we can deny the axioms of the geometer. But the
closest observation, the most refined analysis, nowhere discovers
such a cause in the external world ; it detects nothing, it never
can detect any thing, but invariable antecedence, a relation
which differs from that of cause as widely as the idea of person,
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 87
9T self, differs from that of material substance. Whence came
the idea, then ? Why do we suppose the existence of such a
cause, or attribute to it every outward phenomenon, when it is
nowhere discoverable? This is the problem which we must
now undertake to solve.
Origin of the idea of cause. Two answers are possible to
this inquiry. One is, that the idea of cause is a conception of
pure reason ; an original and spontaneous intuition of the soul ;
not furnished by experience, though first developed on occasion
of its exercise ; a part of the primitive constitution of the human
mind ; in short, an innate idea. Those to whom this answer is
satisfactory, of course, need go no further. The existence of
such primitive ideas is a mere dogmatic assertion, admitted to
be incapable of proof, and affirmed to be in no need of it, but to
occupy a position above all argument. No inquiry into their
origin, or genesis, is possible, for they had no origin, except
with the birth of the mind itself; no process of legitimating
them, or establishing their objective validity, is required, as they
constitute the grounds of reasoning about other things, and so
cannot themselves be reasoned about. If you deny the exist
ence of them, you are a skeptic, or a materialist, and there is
an end of the matter. Now, for the purposes of this inquiry, I
do not feel concerned either to affirm or deny them. Those
who believe in them, as I have said, need go no further ; the
conclusion to which they have come is perfectly satisfactory,,
though they have jumped to it ; and I freely concede this point,
that the idea of cause has a better claim to be considered origi
nal and spontaneous than any other. If there are any innate
ideas, this surely is one. Those who are not satisfied with this
compendious and dogmatic method of solving the problem, may
accompany me in a consideration of the second possible answer
to the question proposed ; namely, that the idea of cause has ^
its origin in internal experience, in the consciousness of volition >
and action.
T/ie human will is an efficient cause. Our theorem is, that
we have the direct evidence of consciousness, arising from every
volition or voluntary act, that the human will is a cause, an
88 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
efficient cause, not a mere antecedent, a limited cause, indeed,
but supreme within its proper domain, not always si^-ficient
for the end proposed, but always efficient, or expending force
or power, which is real, though often inadequate. Thus, if I
will to move a limb which has been paralyzed, though the lirnb
does not move, I am conscious of making an effort to move it,
and this consciousness of effort is a consciousness of force ex
erted, of power in action, which is necessarily causal or causative,
though in this instance too weak, or too little, for the end pro
posed. By this " effort," I do not mean the mere straining of
the muscles, or muscular effort. I mean the strong purpose,
the vigorous exertion of will, a purely mental effort, which
will be best illustrated, perhaps, by an action confined entirely
to mind.
Consider, then, the strong effort of the will to fix the atten
tion upon a particular subject of thought, when a variety of dis
tracting circumstances calls off the mind to other topics, when
grief, terror, anxiety, or anger darkens and disturbs the soul.
The success of the attempt in such a case, the issue of the
struggle, may be doubtful ; but we are conscious that it is a
struggle, that power is put forth towards the end in view, and
this power is a true cause. A man of great energy, of indom
itable resolution, is said truly to possess great force of character,
however puny may be his bodily constitution, however meagre
and insufficient may be the outward means at his disposal for
the accomplishment of his object. In a successful contest with
the passions, in resistance to temptation, there is a consciousness
of power exerted, which no mere material exertion, no stiffen
ing of the sinews and summoning up the blood, can ever equal,
Our real activity resides solely in the will. An effort to lift the
arm is, so to speak, an outward effort, like the attempt to rend an
oak ; it may or may not succeed ; that depends on the material
constitution of the nerves and muscles. But the act was really
completed in the volition, or in putting forth conscious energy
towards the end proposed ; and this always succeeds. The
limbs may be palsied, the muscles may refuse to bend, and this
tenement of clay in which we live may no longer obey our
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 89
wishes, or minister to our necessities. But the kingly will still
governs and acts within, and is still responsible for its acts at
that dread tribunal where not the outward movements, but the
purposes of the heart, come into judgment.
Power may be exerted, though no outward effect follows. I
contend that, in the action of will, we have all the marks or
tests, by which efficient causation is distinguished from mere
antecedence. In the case of material phenomena, as we have
seen, the result can be ascertained only by experience ; we learn
only by trial that one substance is soluble, and another not,
that iron expands, and clay contracts, in the fire. But in the
case of mental exertion, the result to be accomplished is pre-
considered, or meditated, and is therefore known a priori, or
before experience ; * the volition succeeds, which is a true effort,
* To this statement, Mr. J. S. Mill objects, " This is merely saying,
that when we will a thing, we have an idea of it. But to have an idea of
what we wish to happen, does not imply a prophetic knowledge that it
will happen."
Certainly it does not ; but a mental sequence between a volition and a
bodily motion, is hereby distinguished from a sequence between two exter
nal events, because, in the latter case, the antecedent gives us no idea at
all what the consequent will be, and no assurance that there will he any
consequent; while, in the former case, the antecedent does inform us,
through consciousness, and prior to experience, what the consequent will
be, if any, and also that the volition will tend to produce this particular
consequent, even if the effort, or the force of the volition, should not suf
fice to produce the whole of the intended result ; just as I may be con
scious that I push against a pane of glass, though I do not push hard
enough to break it. It is something to establish this distinction, as we
thereby negative Mr. Mill s previous assertion, that " our will causes our
bodily actions in the same sense, and in no other, in which cold causes ice."
Again, though " the idea of what we wish to happen " does not imply
a prophetic knowledge of what will happen, yet the idea of what we will
(that is, the consciousness of a volition,) does imply, if not a prophetic
knowledge of what will happen, yet an immediate knowledge of something
that does happen. It is a consciousness of an action of something done
of power exerted, whether the future result of that action be precisely
what we intended or not. An act of the will is at the same moment a vo
lition and an action ; it is but one state of mind considered under two dif
ferent relations. It is a volition, in so far as it is directed to one purpose
90 THE IDEA OP CAUSE.
or a power in action ; and this, if the power be sufficient, is
necessarily followed by the effect. It was from overlooking this
distinction, that Hume, Kant, and Brown, and such metaphysi
cians of the present day as Bailey and Mill, have been led to
deny all knowledge of causation even in the action of mind.
They confounded sufficiency with efficiency, and supposed, be
cause the power or volition did not always accomplish the
object, that it did not tend towards it, or exert any effect upon
it. But I quote Mr. Mill s language against himself; for when
he is looking only to physical causes and material results, he
lays down this distinction with admirable clearness.
Alluding to the direction and velocity with which a body
moves when acted upon by a certain force, he says, " The body
does not only move in that manner, unless counteracted ; it
tends to move in that manner, even when counteracted ; it still
exerts in the original direction the same energy of movement,
as if its first impulse had been undisturbed, and produces, by
that energy, an exactly equivalent quantity of effect. This is
true, even when the force leaves the body, as it found it, in a
state of absolute rest ; as when we attempt to raise a body of
three tons weight, with a force equal to one ton. For if, while
we are applying this force, the wind, or water, or any other
agent, supplies an additional force just exceeding two tons, the
body will be raised ; thus proving, that the force we applied ex
erted its full effect, by neutralizing an equivalent portion of the
or another; it is an action, in so far as it is something done, (and
therefore, for which our conscience holds us responsible,) whether the ulterior
purpose in view is answered or not. Mr. Mill s ingenious periphrasis for
a volition "an idea of what we wish to happen" cannot be accepted.
Merely " to have an idea " of a thing, is not to do that thing. I may " have
an idea " of committing murder ; but I do not thereby commit murder.
The mind is entirely passive, when it is occupied with mere contemplation,
or is merely entertaining ideas. But on the other hand, if I will to com
mit murder, and, as a necessary means to this end, will to pull the trigger
of a pistol, then, in foro conscientice, I am guilty of that murder, because 1
have done something, though, from the rustiness of the lock, the trigger
should not move, and the life of the intended victim should thereby bo
saved.
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 91
weight, which it was insufficient altogether to overcome. And
if, while we are exerting this force of one ton upon the object
in a direction contrary to that of gravity, it be put into a scale
and weighed, it will be found to have lost a ton of its weight, or,
in other words, to press downwards with a force only equal to
the difference of the two forces.
" These facts are correctly indicated by the expression ten
dency. All laws of causation, in consequence of their liability
to be counteracted, require to be stated in words affirmative of
tendencies only, and not of actual results. In those sciences of
causation which have an accurate nomenclature, there are spe
cial words, which signify a tendency to the particular effect with
which the science is conversant ; thus, pre&swre, in Mechanics,
is synonymous with tendency to motion, and forces are not
reasoned upon as causing actual motion, but as exerting pres
sure."
How language so precise as this is to be reconciled with the
writer s denial of the fact, that we have even any idea of efficient
cause, is a question for Mr. Mill to answer. I have no concern
with it, except to remark, that the energy, or power exerted,
which is not followed by any actual effect, but only tends to
produce one, cannot with any propriety be considered as a mere
antecedent event, for it has no consequent. It is no fact of ob
servation, inasmuch as no result is perceived ; and therefore it
does not conflict with our doctrine, that we nowhere discern
efficient causes in the material world. But tendency cannot
even be conceived of, much less so clearly explained as it is by
Mr. Mill, except as the effect of power in action, and there
fore as implying a real cause.
However this may be, the illustration amply vindicates our
knowledge of efficient causation in the phenomena of mind,
against which no objection can be brought, except the alleged
necessity of waiting till experience informs us whether the voli
tion is effective or not, so that we cannot say a priori, as we
should do of a true cause, that it will be, it must be, effective.
We can say this beforehand of mental activity, or will; the
volition is always effective, if not to the full extent of actually
92
THE IDEA OF CAUSE,
producing the whole result in view, at least as tending to pro
duce it, so that it is an efficient cause.
How the idea of cause is expanded into the law of causation.
The difference between voluntary and involuntary states of
mind, between attention and sensation, for example, is soon
recognized. We know that power is exerted in the former case,
that every act is preceded by a volition, and that this volition is
the sole and efficient cause of the act. Nay, within the proper
domain of the will, it is even inconceivable to us that any event
or change should take place without the agency of the will ; and
hence, as I am inclined to believe, by a natural association of
ideas, we are led to the doctrine of universal causation, to the
belief that no event whatever, whether in the mind or in the
outer universe, can take place without an efficient cause. In
most cases, we are ignorant what that cause is, for undoubtedly
the majority even of our mental states is involuntary ; we must
believe and perceive, when evidence or objects are presented
to us. These cases we are not completely acquainted with ;
strictly speaking, the efficient cause of them comes not within
the range of our knowledge. But voluntary acts we do know
thoroughly ; the efficient cause of them namely, our own will
does lie entirely within the sphere of our consciousness, and
is known to be in immediate contact, as it were, with the effect.
Henee, association leads us to believe that eveiy other event
must have a cause, and that, if we had the thorough knowledge
of it which we have of a voluntary act, it would be seen to pro
ceed from a cause ; and this cause is naturally sought for in the
immediately antecedent event. Every action of our lives, every
volition, appears in this character ; so that it is by no narrow
and insufficient induction, but by one that is coextensive with
our whole conscious existence, the acts which form its basis
recurring at every instant, that we are led to the general law,
that no phenomenon occurs without a cause.
The universal and necessary character of the law of causation,
that " every event must have a cause," may be accounted for in
another way. It may be traced to our intuitive appreciation of
the fundamental and essential distinction between matter and
THE IDEA OP CAUSE. 93
mind, to the first act of self-consciousness by which the me is
distinguished from the not-me.* In that primitive cognition, we
are directly conscious of the me as essentially active, and the
not-me as essentially inert or passive. This is the necessary
antithesis which the thinking being establishes between himself
and the outward world, just as soon as he arrives at a conscious
ness of either. He necessarily attributes power and activity to
himself, for he cannot imagine, he cannot even think, himself
deprived of power, or, what is the same thing, of will; for in our
analysis, the two things are identical. Imagine yourself, if you
can, deprived even of the power to will ; you cannot do it.
Oatward restraint is nothing ; bars and fetters cannot bind the
soul. Paralysis is nothing ; we can yet will to move the limb,
though it remains fixed. The effort may be apparently power
less as to its effect upon the limb ; but it is still an effort, and
can always be made. You cannot cease to be conscious of a
power to will without ceasing to be conscious of yourself.
* I here adopt an important distinction from Mr. De Morgan, who first
clearly stated it in his " Formal Logic."
" When a name is clearly understood," he observes, " the name applies
to every thing, in one way or the other, [i. e. positively or negatively.] The
word man has an application both to Alexander and Bucephalus ; the first
was a man, the second was not. In the formation of language, a great
many names are, as to their original signification, of a purely negative
character ; thus, parallels are only lines which do not meet ; aliens are men
who are not Britons, (that is, in our country). If language were as copious
and as perfect as we could imagine it to be, for every name which has a
positive signification, we should have another which merely implies all
other things ; thus, as we have a name for a tree, we should have another to
signify every thing that is not a tree. As it is, we have sometimes a name
for the positive, and none for the negative, as in tree ; sometimes for the
negative, and none for the positive, as in parallels ; sometimes for both, as
in a frequent use of person and thing."
" Let us take a pair of contrary names, as man and not-man. It is plain
that, between them, they represent every thing imaginable or real, in the uni*
verse."
Obviously, then, every judgment founded upon the antithesis between
the me and the not-me must be a universal judgment ; for these two terms,
between them, comprise the universe.
94 THE IDEA OF CAUSE.
Now, the outward world first manifests itself to us as an ob*
stacle, a limitation, a resistance to be overcome. Our first
knowledge of its existence is a perception of its inertness, or
want of power, its essential passivity. We cannot cease to
recognize this quality in it, without losing consciousness also of
that which renders it different from ourselves. Every thing
which is foreign to the perceiving mind is perceived to be in
antagonism with it ; as the one is known only under the condi
tions of life and activity, the other is recognized only as dead
and motionless. Because matter is perceived, through its an
tagonism with mind, to be essentially inert, we say that every
change in its state must have a cause, or that mind, the only
true energy, or source of power, with which we are acquainted,
must be acting upon it, either from within or without. As all
actual and all imaginable existence must be either identified
with the me, that is, with mind, or considered as foreign to it,
that is, as matter, it must also be conceived either as essentially
active, or essentially inert. Here, then, we find a basis for the
universal law of causation.
Att the phraseology of causation is borrowed from mind.
This doctrine derives confirmation from the fact, that all the
phraseology employed in speaking of the successive generaliza
tions of the science of events is borrowed from the action of
mind. The word action itself has no real significance, except
when applied to the doings of an intelligent agent ; we cannot
speak of the doings of matter, as we could if the word action
were applicable to it in any other than a figurative sense. Let
any one conceive, if he can, of any power, energy, or force in
herent in a lump of matter, a stone, for instance, except
this merely negative one, that it always and necessarily remains
in its present state, whether this be of rest or motion. Again,
in speaking of the similarity of facts and the regularity of se
quences, we refer them to a law of nature, just as if they were
sentient beings acting under the will of a sovereign. Chemical
affinities, also, are spoken of, as if material elements were united
by family ties, and manifested choice, or affection and aversion.
We attribute force, or power, to the particles of matter, and
THE IDEA OP CAUSE, 95
Ejpeak of their natural agencies* Just so, we talk of tone in
coloring, and of a heavy or light sound ; though, of course, in
the proper significance of these words, tone belongs only to
sound, and heaviness to gravitating bodies. These modes of
speech are proper enough, if their figurative character be kept
in view ; but we ought always to remember, that agency is the
employment of one intelligent being to act for another ; force
and power are applicable only to will; they are characteristic
of volition. Of course, it is a, violent trope to apply either of
them to senseless matter*.
The doctrine of immediate divine agency. An obvious cor
ollary from these remarks is, that all causation is an exertion
of mind, and is applied only by metaphor to the material uni
verse. It necessarily implies power, will, and action. It is a
universally admitted truth, that an efficient cause is nowhere
discoverable in the world without us ; we know what it is only
from consciousness, and all our language respecting it is bor
rowed from mental phenomena. This doctrine places the ma
terial universe before us in a new light. The whole frame
work of what are called "secondary causes" falls to pieces.
The laws of nature are only a figure of speech ; the powers and
active inherent properties of material atoms are mere fictions.
Mind alone is active ; matter is wholly passive and inert. Mind
alone moves ; matter is moved. There is no such thing as what
we usually call the " course of nature ; " it is nothing but the
will of God producing certain effects in a constant and uniform
manner; which mode of action, however, being arbitrary, or
dependent upon will, is as easy to be altered as to be preserved.
All events, all changes, in the external world, from the least
even unto the greatest, are attributable directly to his will and
power, which, being infinite, are always and necessarily adequate
to the end proposed. The laws of motion, gravitation, affinity,
and the like, are only expressions of the regularity and continu
ity of one infinite cause. The order of nature is the effect of
Divine wisdom ; its stability is the result of Divine beneficence.*
* Sir William Hamilton enumerates and criticizes eight different theories
that have been framed by philosophers to account for the origin of our
96 THE IDEA OF CAF8E.
"judgment of causation," or irresistible belief that every event must hare
a cause. Four of these are based on experience, and affirm that the idea
or the judgment is derived from observation ; the other four regard this
judgment as an a priori, cognition, that is, a law of thought, or a condi
tion of experience.
1. The opinion that we are able to detect efficient causes even in the
outward world, the true nexus, or bond of union between the phenomenon
and its cause, being exposed to observation, though it continues to be the
belief of the vulgar, is now generally abandoned by the learned. Dr.
Whewell is the only writer of eminence, since the days of Hume, who has
ventured to maintain this doctrine. We have already proved that no true
cause has been, or ever can be, discovered in the material universe.
2. The theory maintained in this chapter, that the idea of cause has its
origin in internal experience, in the consciousness of volition and action.
3. We obtain our knowledge of causation by a process of induction, just
as we trace out other recondite laws of nature. After we have repeatedly
observed a certain event to be immediately followed by another, and have
never seen one without the other, we infer that there is a necessary union
between them. When observation has brought to view a multitude of such
instances, we generalize the fact into a law of nature. The objections to
this theory are, first, that immediate succession is not causation, and sec
ondly, we cannot affirm that all must be, because some are. This doctrine
would allow us to say, that an event as yet unobserved by us may take
place without a cause ; which is contrary to the judgment of causation,
that every event must have a cause.
4. The judgment is the result of custom and the association of ideas.
But Hamilton answers, " the necessity of so thinking cannot be derived
from a custom of so thinking. The customary never reaches, never even
approaches, to the necessary. On this theory, also, when the association
is recent, the causal judgment should be weak ; and rise only gradually to
full force, as custom becomes inveterate. But we do not find that this
judgment is feebler in the young, and stronger in the old."
These are all the theories which are based on experience ; we pass to an
enumeration of those which give an a priori origin to our idea of cause, or
resolve it into a law of our mental constitution.
5. The causal judgment is a primary revelation to the intellect, or an
ultimate principle, the genesis of which does not admit of explanation.
This opinion is adopted by Reid, Kant, Stewart, and Cousin, and is now
more generally received than any other. But, entia non sunt muLtiplicanda
prceter necessitatem ; we must not admit any phenomenon to be an ultimate
fact, till all the modes of explaining it are proved to be unsound. This
opinion, therefore, can only be admitted provisorily ; it falls, of course, if
what it would explain can be explained on less onerous conditions.
6. Dr. Brown would identify our conviction of the causal dependence
with our presumption of the constancy of nature. But our belief in the
THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 97
permanency of the laws of nature only inclines us to expect that, when two
events always have happened in immediate succession, one of them always
will be followed by .the other ; while the causal judgment affirms of any one
event, though seemingly isolated, that it must have a cause. This necessity
to suppose a cause for every phenomenon, Dr. Brown keeps cautiously
out of view, thus virtually eliminating all that requires explanation in the
problem.
7. The next theory is an endeavor to demonstrate the causal judgment
by abstract reasoning ; in other words, to prove by ai-gument that every
event must have a cause. The attempt is vain, because our knowledge
of causation is not involved or implied in any higher act of judgment or
self-evident proposition, from which it can be deduced by analysis. The
reasoning which would trace it to any higher principle is now universally
admitted to be inconsequent.
8. Sir William Hamilton s own theory resolves our positive affirmation,
that every event must have a cause, into a mere negation, or a result of
the incompetency of the human intellect. E nihilo nihiljit; as we cannot
imagine something to be created out of nothing, when a new phenomenon
appears, we are compelled to believe that it had previously existed under
other forms. These " other forms," under which it previously existed, are
the causes of the phenomenon. We object to this theory, that it seems to
confound being with doing, or existence with causation. It does not say,
that the cause produces the effect, but that the cause is the effect ; it boldly
identifies the two, and thus falsifies the conditions of the problem. If we
believe that the phenomenon must have a cause, only in order to avoid
believing that the sum of existence is increased, then the cause and the
phenomenon are really the same existence, and no change, no event, has
taken place. Again, the causal judgment cannot be resolved into the
maxim e nihilo nihil fit, for the former is the more comprehensive of the
two ; it would be less natural to deduce the judgment from the maxim,
than the maxim from the judgment. The inference, something cannot be
created out of nothing, because every thing must have a cause, is surely more
natural and more logical than to say, every event must have a cause, because
something cannot be created out of nothing. Still further ; the theory shows
only the necessity of thinking that the succession of events is continuous
without break before or after each phenomenon being only a disguised
repetition of its predecessor and no one phenomenon either really be
ginning to be, or really ceasing to exist. It does not prove or explain
(what we are still obliged to believe,) that each event is produced or
evolved by some exertion of f wee some power in action. Hamilton s
theory, indeed, totally overlooks this notion of power, or force, though it is
a necessary element in our idea of causation. The theory explains only
the succession, or continuity of events.
9
FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
CHAPTER V.
FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
Summary of the last chapter. The question respecting the
origin and validity of our idea of cause, which formed the topic
of the last chapter, has been greatly obscured and perplexed,
because it involves several distinct inquiries, which are too fre
quently confounded with each other. I endeavored to separate
them, and to consider each one by itself in the natural order.
First, the popular acceptation of the word cause was observed
to be also its strict and metaphysical meaning ; as efficiency is
universally attributed to causation, and a necessary connection
is believed to exist between cause and effect. But in opposi
tion to the common belief, it was proved that we can nowhere
detect such causes in the material universe ; the observation of
external nature never has led, and never can lead, to the dis
covery of any thing beyond the invariable succession of events,
or the fixed relation of antecedence and consequence, a rela
tion which differs as widely from that of cause and effect, as any
two distinct conceptions, which the mind is capable of forming,
do from each other. But our inability to discover such causes
in the world of matter, is no proof (1.) that they are not to be
found anywhere ; for there is clear and indisputable evidence
that they exist in the world of consciousness, every act, every
volition, of a conscious agent being a true cause. This inability
does not even prove (2.) that there are no such causes operat
ing in external nature, as the limits of our faculty of investiga
tion and discovery are not, surely, the limits of the possibility
of things ; and the general proposition, that every change or
event must have a cause, is one that we can no more doubt
than we can disbelieve that two and two make four. For a still
stronger reason, this inability does not prove (3.) that we have
no idea of efficient cause, and therefore no knowledge of what
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 99
the word power means ; for the very existence of the problem,
this very search after real causes, shows that we have a clear
idea of some connection between two events which is funda
mentally different from mere succession, or contiguity in time.
The arguments and illustrations which I adduced, went to dis
prove these three forms of skepticism, these three unfounded
conclusions, or false inferences from the admitted fact, that our
feeble powers of observation and analysis cannot discover any
efficient cause whatever in the material universe.
The doctrine of immediate Divine agency. In arguing
against these skeptical views, we were led incidentally to state
and defend what I believe to be the true doctrine of causation;
namely, that one particle of matter never acts on another
particle ; for nearly all philosophers admit that we have no
proof of such action, and when we come to look closely into the
subject, it appears even inconceivable that inert matter should
thus act, or have any real power. In truth, action is never
even attributed to matter, except by a metaphor, or figure of
speech, as is clearly shown by an examination of the language
usually employed. The only real action, of which we have any
knowledge or distinct conception, is that of mind or person ; and
the field of this activity is not only the mind itself, but the ma
terial structure, the congeries of bones, muscles, and nerves,
which we inhabit, all the voluntary motions of which are pro
duced and governed by the indwelling spirit, the kingly and in
divisible will. Thus we came to the conclusion, that spirit
alone moves, while matter is moved, and that this union, for a
time, of a body with our personality, shadows forth a connection
between the material universe and the Infinite One. How
else, indeed, can we attach any meaning to the attributes of
Omnipresence and Omnipotence ? The unity of action, the reg
ularity of antecedence and consequence in outward events,
which we commonly designate by the lame metaphor of law,
then become the fitting expression of the consistent doings of an
all-wise Being, in whom there is no variableness, neither shadow
of turning. Our bodies, then, are kindred to organic nature, or
the external universe, in a double sense ; both are fashioned
100 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
from the same materials, from particles of brute matter, and
both are informed, actuated, and controlled by an indwelling
person ; every atom in this tenement of clay being really sub
ject to his sovereign will, though in the one case, that will or
power (for the two expressions are synonymous) is infinite, and
in the other it is finite, or limited, so that the whole result which
was contemplated does not always follow. The Creator, then,
is no longer banished from his creation, nor is the latter an or
phan, or a deserted child. It is not a great machine, that was
wound up at the beginning, and has continued to run on ever
since, without aid or direction from its artificer. As well might
we conceive of the body of a man moving about, and perform
ing all its appropriate functions, without the principle of life, or
the indwelling of an immortal soul. The universe is not lifeless
or soulless. It is informed by God s spirit, pervaded by his
power, moved by his wisdom, directed by his beneficence, con
trolled by his justice. The harmony of physical and moral laws
is not a mere fancy, nor a forced analogy ; they are both ex
pressions of the same will, manifestations of the same spirit.
The sublime language of the poet, then becomes the simple
expression of a philosophical and religious truth :
" I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky ;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
...... all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things."
The admirer of Wordsworth will perceive that I have omit
ted portions of lines, which deform 7 this sublime conception with
the dark and mystical doctrine of pantheism, a doctrine which
no one will confound with the system here developed, who re
members that the complex structure, which is our outward
integument for a season, is reaUy foreign to the person, and dis
tinct from the will, or power, by which it is moved and gov-
FATALISM AND FREEWTLT,. 101
erned. Pantheism is to the Deity what materialism is to man,
a mere denial of any spiritual existence, and the extinction of
all idea of personality.
Objections to this theory considered. The objection to this
theory of causation, that it is beneath the dignity of the Almighty
to put his hand to every thing, is founded on a false analogy, as
is seen by the form in which Aristotle states it. "If it befit not
the state and majesty of Xerxes, the great king of Persia, that
he should stoop to do all the meanest offices himself, much less
can this be thought suitable for God." The two cases do not
correspond in the very feature essential to the argument. An
earthly potentate, unable to execute with his own hand all the
affairs of which he has control, is obliged to delegate the larger
portion of them to his servants ; selecting the lightest part for
himself, he gratifies his pride by calling it also the noblest;
though the distinction is factitious, there being no real differ
ence, in point of honor or dignity, between them. But Omnip
otence needs no minister, and is not exhausted or wearied by
the care of a universe. Power in action is more truly sublime
than power in repose ; and surely it is not derogatory to Divine
energy to sustain and continue that which it was certainly not
beneath Divine wisdom to create and appoint. Rightly con
sidered, to guide the falling of a leaf from a tree is an office as
worthy of Omnipotence as the creation of a world. "Are not
two sparrows sold for a farthing ? and one of them shall not fall
on the ground without your Father."
Equally lame is the oft-repeated comparison of the universe
to a machine of man s device, which is considered the more per
fect the less mending or interposition it requires. A machine
is a labor-saving contrivance, fitted to supply the weakness and
deficiencies of him who uses it. Where the want does not exist,
it is absurd to suppose the creation of a remedy. Human con
ceptions of the Deity are for ever at fault in imputing to him
the errors and deficiencies which belong to our own limited fac
ulties and dependent condition. Hence the idea of the Epicu
reans, that sublime indifference and unbroken repose are the
9*
102 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
Co siVs&sO
only states of being worthy of the gods. Viewed in the light
of true philosophy, no less than of Christianity, how base and
grovelling does this conception appear ! Substitute for it the
Christian idea of the unceasing watchfulness of a Parent, and
the active and constant beneficence of an Almighty Father and
Friend, and it sinks into its true character, as a degrading doc
trine of heathen mythology.
Divine action equally incessant in the physical and moral uni
verse. In truth, we have only to decide whether it is more
likely that the complex system of things in the midst of which
we live, the beautiful harmonies between the organic and the
inorganic world, the nice arrangements and curious adaptations
that obtain in each, the simplicity and uniformity of the general
plan to which the vast multitude of details may be reduced,
whether this system, I say, is NOW sustained, and prevented
from falling into nothingness and ruin, by one all-wise and all-
powerful Being, or by particles of brute matter, acting of them
selves, without any immediate direction, oversight, or control.
Remember we have no proof, that such particles can exert any
causal agency whatever ; that science never has discovered, and
never can discover, a single efficient cause, properly belonging
to matter, in the whole material universe ; that the only power
in action with which we are acquainted, is that of mind upon
matter, and upon itself, as evinced in our own consciousness,
and in the voluntary movements of our bodies dependent on the
will or person within ; and that the almost unceasing movement
and change of all the material particles around us, that are not
dependent upon our own wills, is a fact to be accounted for by
some efficient and adequate cause. The moral government of
God is admitted to be direct, incessant, and continuous, by all
theists who admit his moral attributes, and who thereby furnish
a basis for religious faith and practice. This is evident from
all the ordinances of religion ; prayer being a mockery, unless
we believe it is heard, and worship not really obligatory, unless
it is specially enjoined. Then why is not his physical govern
ment, so to speak, his causation and control of movement and
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 103
change in the material universe, equally immediate and unceas
ing ? * I believe that it is, and when rightly viewed, the flut-
* In his strictures upon this doctrine and the reasonings by which it is
supported, Mr. J. S. Mill objects to " the inference that, because Volition
is an efficient cause, therefore it is the only cause, and the direct agent in
producing even what is apparently produced by something else. Voli
tions," he says, " are not known to produce any thing directly except ner
vous action, for the will influences even the muscles only through the
nerves. Though it were granted, then, that every phenomenon has an
efficient, and not merely a phenomenal cause, and that volition, in the case
of the particular phenomena which are known to be produced by it, is
that efficient cause ; are we therefore to say, with these writers, that since
we know of no other efficient cause, and ought not to assume one without
evidence, there is no other, and volition is the direct cause of all phenom
ena ? A more outrageous stretch of inference could hardly be made."
And again, " The supporters of the Volition Theory," which is the name
he gives to the doctrine of the Immediate Agency of the Deity, " ask us to
infer that volition causes every thing, for no reason except that it causes one
particular thing ; although that one phenomenon, far from being a type of
all natural phenomena, is eminently peculiar ; its laws bearing scarcely
any resemblance to those of any other phenomenon, whether of inorganic
or of organic nature." System of Logic, 3d ed. vol. i. pp. 370-372.
We presume Mr. Mill will admit it to be a sound logical maxim, that
no more causes must be assigned than ivhat are absolutely necessary to account for
the phenomena. The reasoning to which he objects may be briefly stated
thus : Volition is the only known power in the universe ; changes in mat
ter are the phenomena to be accounted for; and as many such changes (to
wit, the movements of our own limbs and bodily organs,) are confessedly
produced by human volition, the residue of them must be attributed to some
other Witt, which, by its omnipresence and omnipotence, is capable of
producing them.
We contend that this reasoning is eminently logical, and in proof of this
assertion, we once more cite against Mr. Mill his own System of Logic.
The reasoning here employed is what he calls the method of " induction
by simple enumeration," a law being assumed to hold good in all cases,
because it has been found to hold good in many cases, and not one instance
has been found to the contrary. It is curious to find Mr. Mill, in the fol
lowing passage, asserting that this process is entirely valid and legitimate
in reference to the law of universal causation, the very instance to which
we are here applying it.
" Induction by simple enumeration," he says, " or, in other words, gen
eralization of an observed fact from the mere absence of any known in-
104 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
tering of a leaf to the ground, after it has been disengaged from
its parent bough, furnishes evidence of Divine agency as direct
as if the grave should give up its dead.
" Estne Dei sedes, nisi terra, et pontus, et aer,
Et coelum, et virtus ? Superos quid quserirnus ultra ?
Jupiter est quodeumque vides, quocumquc rnoveris."
Birth is surely as wonderful as miraculous, if that term be
preferred as resuscitation ; and birth is constantly going on
all around us. The greater frequency of the act certainly does
not lessen its marvellousness, or render it easier of accomplish
ment ; though the repetition exhausts and deadens our emotion
of wonder, and we then conceal under the lame metaphor of
stance to the contrary, is by no means the illicit logical process in all cases
which it is in most. It is delusive and insufficient exactly in proportion
as the subject-matter of the observation is special and limited in extent.
As the sphere widens, this unscientific method becomes less and less liable
to mislead ; and the most universal class of truths, the law of causation, for
instance, and the principles of number and geometry, are duly and satisfac
torily proved by that method alone, nor are they susceptible of any other proof
Id. Book III. ch. xxi. 2.
The case we are now considering is one of universal generalization ; it
embraces all the phenomena of the material universe, every change in which
requires a cause. Human bodies, of course, are a part of this universe,
as much so as the ground these bodies tread upon, or the air they breathe.
All the voluntary movements of these bodies, which are repeated and varied
till their number exceeds all calculation, are known to proceed from the
Will as their efficient cause ; and the Will is the only known instance of effi
cient causation in the universe. The law of " induction by simple enumera
tion," then, is strictly applicable in this case ; and the conclusion to which
it leads us, is, that all other physical events from the quivering of an
aspen leaf up to the flight of the planets in their courses are also attrib
utable to Will, and that Will must be one proportioned in power and com
prehensiveness to the variety and grandeur of its effects. That this Will
belongs to a Being differing from all those whose existence is made known
to us by the testimony of the senses, is not a circumstance which vitiates
the argument, for the reasoning is addressed only to the Theist. The
muscular movements of different individuals are ascribed respectively to
the volitions of those individuals. . The Will has efficient causative agency
as such, and not because it is the Will of one man or another not because
it is human or divine.
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 105
law, and the blank hypothesis of machinery, the direct and per
petually recurring action of Deity.
The argument for the Divine existence, then, is ever freshly
presented to us by the continuance, no less than by the begin
ning, of all things. It proceeds not only from the creation of
the race, but from the birth of the individual. In the seed
which swelled under the last night s rain, in the shoot which
appeared under this morning s sun, we find proof of ever-pres
ent and ever-acting power. To the reflecting theist,
" The world s unwithered countenance
Is bright as at creation s day,"
and reflects its Maker s image just as clearly.
The fatalistic doctrine of causation. The doctrine of causa
tion which I have thus endeavored to develop, stands in striking
contrast with the only other theory of it which I find occasion
here to notice, a theory, indeed, which does not rest upon any
new fundamental principle, but, beginning with the general law
of causation as applied to the physical universe, carries it out in
all its universality, with an affectation of great logical rigor, to
its inevitable conclusion in a sweeping system of fatalism. It
would be difficult to find a more impressive illustration than is
afforded by this theory, of the danger of commencing with a
single abstract proposition, asserted to be original and spontane
ous, a necessary and universal law of human belief, and pushing
it, in all its strictness, to its remotest consequences, unchecked
by facts, and unappalled either by the irrational or the revolting
character of the principles to which it leads. It furnishes the
most striking example of the mischief of applying metaphysical
reasoning to practical subjects.
The theory begins with the general law of causality, that
every event must have a cause, this being understood either
absolutely, or, as in its application to material phenomena, to
signify only invariable antecedence and consequence. The
whole doctrine depends on this word invariable, taken absolutely,
and on the assumed universality and necessary character of the
l*vv itself, in virtue of its primitive and categorical nature.
106 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
Every event, of course, is surrounded by other events, and
must be considered as being at the same time both antecedent
and consequent, as necessarily resulting from those which
. preceded, and necessarily followed by those which come after it,
and thus, as forming one link in an adamantine chain which
extends from eternity to eternity. All occurrences whatever
have their environment of circumstances, with which they stand
in necessary and fixed relations by an absolute law ; and the
state of the universe at any one moment, in all its parts, from
the creation of a world to the stirring of an aspen leaf, could
not possibly have been different from what it is. Still further,
the system is not content, after thus " binding Nature fast in
fate," to " leave free the human will." Every volition, every
act, of a conscious agent is preceded by certain states of mind,
certain sensations, beliefs, and emotions, all involuntary, upon
which it is necessarily consequent ; and it could no more have
been unlike what it is, than our earth could suddenly and cause
lessly cease turning upon its axis, and revolving round the sun.
/ Nay, more ; with a Titan-like audacity of speculation, we
must scale the throne of Omnipotence itself, and say if the
utterance of such a doctrine be not blasphemy that every
thought and .act even of the Almighty is but the inevitable con
sequence of all that has gone before, the necessary cause or
forerunner of all that comes after it.
Consequences of this doctrine. I have endeavored to pre
sent this astounding theory in its simplest and most abstract
form, in order to show clearly the grounds on which it rests,
and the nature of the reasoning by which it is supported. It
is the consistent and thorough application of a single abstract
principle, assumed to be a primitive and necessary law of the
human understanding, to the whole order of actual, possible,
and conceivable events, ^unlike the skepticism of Hume, which
aims merely to shake all convictions, and to reduce all princi
ples to uncertainty and doubt, this system- appears as the dog
matism of infidelity, the demonstration of fatalism/ If we are
entitled to* reason a priori about matters of facVthese are the
conclusions in which we must rest. Belief in a miracle, of
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 107
course, is an absurdity ; a revelation from God to man is an
impossible idea. All evidence, all testimony, adduced in proof
of such events, must be rejected at once, and without examina
tion ; it can be nothing but moral evidence, made up of contin
gent truths, which, in the presence of necessary convictions, or
truths known a priori, vanish like mist before the sun. This
theory is the pivot on which the whole system of Spinoza rests
and turns, and it is the avowed essence of German Transcen
dentalism. As such, it is taken up and expounded with singu
lar clearness and method by Fichte, who is far the ablest rea-
soner in that school, not even excepting Kant. In Fichte s
work on the Destination of Man, which contains a summary of
his philosophical opinions, it is so fully developed, that I shall
give you the application of it mostly in his own words.
Fichte s exposition of Fatalism. " Why, then, has Nature,"
asks Fichte, " amidst the manifold, infinite, possible varieties of
being, assumed precisely these, and no others ? For this rea
son, that certain others had preceded them, and these, in the
same manner, will determine those which shall follow ; and
these again, others, to infinity. Were the smallest thing at the
present moment different from what it is, then necessarily, in
the following moment, would something else be different, and
again in the succeeding one, and so on for ever. . . . V .
" In every moment of her duration, Nature is one connected
whole ; in every moment must every individual part be what it
is, because all others are what they are ; and a single grain of
sand could not be moved from its place, without, however im
perceptibly to us, changing something throughout all parts of
the immeasurable whole. Every moment of duration is deter
mined by all past moments, and will determine all future mo
ments ; and even the position of a grain of sand cannot be con
ceived other than it is, without supposing other changes, to an
indefinite extent. Let us imagine, for instance, this grain of
sand lying some few feet further inland than it actually does ;
then must the storm-wind that drove it in from the sea-shore
have been stronger than it actually was ; then must the pre
ceding state of the atmosphere, by which this wind was occa-
108 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
sioned, and its degree of strength determined, have been diffei
ent from what it actually was, and the previous changes which
gave rise to this particular weather, and so on. We must sup
pose a different temperature from that which really existed,
a different constitution of the bodies which influenced this tem
perature : the fertility or barrenness of countries, the duration
of the life of man, depend, unquestionably, in a great degree on
temperature. How can -we know, since it is not given us to
penetrate the arcana of nature, and it is therefore allowable to
speak of possibilities, how can we know, that in such a state
of the weather as we have been supposing, in order to carry
this grain of sand a few yards further, some ancestor of yours
might not have perished from hunger, or cold, or heat, long be
fore the birth of that son from whom you are descended, and
thus you might never have been at all ; and all that you have
ever done, and all that you ever hope to do in this world, must
have been hindered, in order that a grain of sand might lie in
a different place ?
" I myself, with all that I call mine, am but a link in this chain
of rigid natural necessity. There was a time, so others tell
me, and although I am not immediately conscious of it, I am
compelled by reason to admit it as a truth, there was a time
in which I was not, and a moment in which I began to be. I
then only existed for others, not yet for myself. Since then,
myself, my conscious being, has gradually developed itself, and
I have discovered in myself certain faculties and capacities,
wants, and natural desires. I am a definite creature, which
came into existence at a certain time. I have not come into
existence by my own power. It would be the highest absurd
ity to suppose that, before I was at all, I could bring myself
into existence ; I have, then, been called into being by a power
out of myself. And what should this be but the universal
power of Nature, of which I form a part ? The time at which
my existence commenced, and the attributes belonging to me,
were determined by this universal power of Nature ; and all
the forms under which these my inborn attributes have since
manifested themselves, have been determined by the selfsame
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 109
power. It was impossible that, instead of me, another should
have arisen ; it is impossible that, at any moment of my ex
istence, I should be other than what I am.
" That my successive states of being have been accompanied
by consciousness, that some of them, such as thoughts, resolu
tions, and the like, appear to be nothing but various modifica
tions of consciousness, need not perplex my reasonings. It is
the nature of the plant regularly to develop itself; of the animal
to move towards the attainment of certain ends ; of the man to
think. Why should I hesitate to acknowledge the latter as an
original power of Nature, as well as the first and second?
Thought is assuredly a far higher and more subtile operation of
Nature, than the formation of a plant, or the motion of an ani
mal ; I cannot explain how the power of Nature can produce
thought ; but can I better explain its operation in the produc
tion of a plant, in the motion of an animal ? Thought exists in
Nature, as well as the creative power which gives birth to the
plant. The thinking being arises and develops himself by nat
ural laws, and exists through Nature. There is, therefore, in
Nature an original thinking power, as well as an original plant-
creating power.
" Figure, motion, thought, in me, are not consequent on one
another, but are the simultaneous and harmonious developments
of what might be called the man-forming power, necessarily
manifesting itself in a creature of my species. I am not what I
am, because I think so, or will so, nor do I think and will, be
cause I am, but I am, and I think, both absolutely and nec
essarily. I am that which I am, because, in the connection of
the great whole, only such a one, and absolutely no other, was
possible ; and a spirit who could look through all Nature, would,
from the knowledge of a single man, be able to determine what
men had been before, and what they would be at any moment.
In one person, he would obtain the knowledge of all. All that
I am and shall be, I am and shall be of necessity, and it is im
possible that I should be otherwise. Give to Nature a single
definition of a person, let it be ever so apparently trivial, the
course of a muscle, the turn of a hair, she would be able,
10
110 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
had she a universal consciousness, to declare what would be
his whole course of thought during his whole course of being.
- Most certainly I cannot, by all my repentance, by all my reso
lutions, produce the smallest alteration in the appointed course
of things. I stand under the inexorable power of rigid Neces
sity ; should she have destined me to become a fool and a prof
ligate, a fool and a profligate without doubt I shall become.
Should she have destined me to be wise and good, wise and
good I shall doubtless be. There is neither merit nor blame to
be ascribed to her or to me. She stands under her own laws,
I under hers. It would therefore contribute to my tranquil-
ity to subject even my wishes to that power to which my exist
ence is entirely subject. O, these rebellious wishes I "
Practical results of fatalism. There is no ambiguity in this
language, no reserve in the statement of the doctrine. Fichte
was a daring speculatist, and did not shrink from the enuncia
tion of the theory of philosophical necessity in all its rigor and
completeness. The practical lesson, the rule for the conduct of
life, which is deducible from this theory, may be very briefly
stated ; it is the practical fatalism of the East r Make no vain
efforts to alter that course of things which proceeds by its own
irresistible laws ; do not contend with your destiny. Submit to
be carried along, like a leaf floating on the waters, whitherso
ever the stream may lead. Embosomed in nature, and borne
along with it, let your passive intellect reflect like a mirror
whatever images may stray over its surface. Utter the word
that is in you, perform the act to which you are prompted, and
spend no thought about the consequences of either; these will
inevitably come as they are determined, be your strivings and
exclamations what they may. Strictly speaking, you do not
act, but are acted upon ; contemplation, and not action, is your
fate.
Exposition of Spinoza s system. I have said that Spinoza s
system is but the development and completion of this theory.
As nature is one connected whole, and I am but a part of it,
and every individual part of it must be what it is, because all
; others are what they are, there is truly but one substance, and
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. Ill
that exists by necessity. Thought and extension are its attri
butes, and both are infinite, like the substance in which they
inhere. The essence of a thing, or its formal cause, is its inter
nal constitution, or that which makes it what it is. In this
sense, we may speak of a cause of all things, or of nature ; but it
is an indwelling, or immanent, cause, and not one which is
really distinct from the thing itself, and operates upon it from
without. We may contemplate Nature as a cause, that is, as
operating on itself, and causing all things in itself by its own
inherent necessity, every event being the necessary result of
all other events, and every part being determined, or made
what it is, by all the other parts ; this is the first conception,
and in this sense, Nature is a cause, but a cause only of itself;
it is, in technical phrase, natura naturans, or Nature working
out itself; and thus understood, Nature is God. But we may
also contemplate nature as an effect, as something produced,
natura naturata, nature worked out, or made what it is ; yet, as
before, it is so made, or worked out, only by itself, and by vir
tue of its own inherent and necessary laws ; in this sense,
there is nothing but nature, and there is no God.
The doctrine is abstruse ;-but as it is only the logical devel
opment of a single principle, a train of consequences drawn from
one axiom, we cannot complain that it is unintelligible. We
hear so much about Spinozism at the present day, its spirit
pervades so large a portion of the reputed philosophy of our
times, and so many of its doctrines, or corollaries from those
doctrines, are pressed home upon us, without any distinct indi
cation of their source, that it is worth while to give some effort
and attention to the attempt to understand it.
The conception of an immanent cause illustrated. In illus
tration of what I have stated, then, let me ask you to contem
plate a particular substance, a piece of iron, for instance ; it
has certain qualities, or attributes, such as hardness, weight,
malleability, etc. ; and these qualities may be considered as the
results, or effects, of the internal constitution of the iron, or the
relation of its primary particles or atoms to each other. This
internal constitution being altered or affected in any way, the
112 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
qualities which result from it, or are caused by it, are altered
also ; it becomes more or less hard, weighty, malleable, etc. ;
perhaps it loses some quality entirely, as when it ceases to be
malleable. This internal constitution of the body, the old phi
losophers called its essence, or that which makes it what* it is ;
and they wasted a great deal of labor in searching after the
essences of things ; for, as all the qualities are derived from the
essence, and depend upon it, if we knew the essence, we could
tell beforehand what all its qualities must be, they being deduc-
ible from it ; just as the geometric properties of a triangle are
deducible from the geometric definition of a triangle. Now, as
the qualities of a substance form our whole distinct conception
of that substance, and as the essence produces, or causes, these
qualities, it is quite intelligible, in one sense of the word cause,
to say that the substance causes or determines itself; and this
is what Spinoza means when he speaks of natura naturans,
Nature causing itself, or being a cause ; in which sense, Na
ture is God, or, in other words, God is the indwelling, or im
manent, cause of nature; not a foreign cause, acting upon it,
or creating it, from without, but its essence, or internal cause ;
that is, its internal constitution, on which all its qualities
depend.
Again, we may contemplate the piece of iron without refer
ence to the internal origin, or source, of its qualities, but simply
as a particular substance manifesting certain attributes. This
is the idea of natura naturata, or nature worked out, and exist
ing as a whole ; in this sense, there is nothing but nature, and
there is no God. Observe further, that these two ideas of na
ture differ only formally, and not objectively, from each other ;
they are but two aspects of, or two modes of considering, one
and the same Nature. So the iron is one and the same body,
whether we regard its qualities as constantly produced or mani
fested that is, caused by its internal constitution, or essence,
or look at it merely as an aggregate of those qualities, inhering
in one substratum. The criticism of Dr. Reid, then, is well
founded, when he says, that in Spinoza s system " there neither
is, nor can be, a cause at all ; nothing acts, but every thing is
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 113
acted upon ; nothing moves, but every thing is moved ; all is
passion, without action, all instrument, without an agent;
and every thing that is, or was, or shall be, has that necessary
existence in its season, which we commonly consider as the pre
rogative of the First Cause." The cause that is spoken of in
this system is not an efficient, but a formal, cause ; that is, the
inherent necessity of the thing to exist, and to be what it is.
The universe, or the totality of things, is presented by Spinoza
as one connected whole, but under a double aspect : first, as
necessarily existing, its existence at any one moment being abso
lutely determined, or caused, by its existence at the preceding
moment ; and in this view, God is identified with nature, and
we have a system of pantheism ; secondly, as the only sub
stance or necessary being, without regard to the manner in
which its successive states of being are manifested or developed ;
and in this view, there is nothing but nature, and the scheme is
one of atheistic fatalism. The germ of this latter doctrine may
be found in the ancient speculation of Democritus and Leucip-
pus, amounting to an atheistic fatality founded on the mechanical
or corpuscular philosophy. Dr. Reid justly says of it, that it is
" the genuine and most tenable system of necessity ;" and if it
be true, all reasoning to prove the existence of a First Cause
" must be given up as fallacious."
Spinozism the logical consequence of attributing efficient causa
tion to matter. It would not be difficult to show, in respect
even to the modified scheme of necessity that is presented by so
cautious and temperate a speculatist as Mr. Mill, either that it
is wholly unfounded, a baseless dream, or that it must be carried
out, by the legitimate and consistent extension of the argument
on which it rests, to the gigantic system, the absolute and uni
versal Fate, of Spinoza.* No compromise is possible with this
* Having asserted that " there is nothing in causation but invariable, certain,,
and unconditional sequence," and having thus got rid of the idea of any ac
tive force or power, Mr. Mill thinks he has thereby effectually exorcised the
bugbear of Fatalism, which has so long obstructed the reception of the
doctrine of Necessity. He avows that he is a Necessarian, but he stoutly
denies that he is a Fatalist. Men are unwilling to admit, he says, that
10*
114
FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
doctrine; we must deny secondary causes altogether, or we
must go on to Asiatic and atheistic fatalism. It is the boast of
there is any " peculiar tie " between a man s previously formed character,
together with his motives, on the one hand, and his actions on the other, so
that the latter are under " a mysterious constraint " from the former. No ;
a man s motives do not compel or force his character. There is no compul
sion in the case ; there is no such thing as force. If there were, Fatalism
would be the only true doctrine. But a man s actions are " the invariable,
certain, and unconditional" results or consequents of his motives and his
character. The actions must have been what they are, and must be repeat
ed, if the same antecedents should again occur ; the man could not have
willed otherwise than he did ; and under the same circumstances, the same
volition would inevitably be repeated. B invariably follows A, and always
must follow it ; yet, so long as A does not compel B to follow it, but the
inevitableness of the sequence arises from some other source, say, from
the nature of things, or from a logical necessity, then the doctrine is not
one of Fatalism, but only of Necessity.
Mr. Mill finds great comfort in this distinction ; but we must avow our
opinion, that it is a distinction without a difference. We do not object to
the Fatalist s doctrine so much on account of what he asserts, as on account
of what he denies. He asserts, that the strongest motive constrains the will
with a despotic power, so that the volition could not have been otherwise
than what it was. This is bad enough, and even Mr. Mill does not agree
with him, but affirms that the motive does not constrain the will, because
no one thing ever constrains or causes another thing. There is no such
thing as " a peculiar tie or mysterious constraint " in any case. But the
Fatalist denies that we are the free causes of our own actions ; and here,
unfortunately, Mr. Mill agrees with him, and Tor the same reason as that
alleged in the former instance, namely, that there is no such thing as effi
cient causation. If this be so, we are just as badly off as ever ; for remorse
is illusory, and repentance is vain, if the action repented of was the Ci inva
riable, certain, and unconditional " consequence of what preceded it, so that
it could not have been changed by any exertion of the will alone, unaided
by a change of circumstances.
Conscious, however, that man needs a little consolation under the fearful
doctrine that all his volitions and actions are the inevitable consequents of
circumstances over which he has no control, Mr. Mill tries to administer a
drop of comfort by suggesting, that, if a person wishes to alter his character,
(that character being one of the antecedents which his volitions follow,)
then the wish itself is a new antecedent, " and by no means one of the least
influential," and it necessarily tends towards its own fulfilment. In other
words, if the wish exists to modify the character, the character really is
somewhat modified by that wish. But then, this wish " is given us, not by
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 115
the followers of Spinoza, that their reasoning is mathematical
and demonstrative from beginning to end ; all the forms and
any efforts of ours, but by circumstances which we cannot help ; it comes
to us either from external causes, or not at all." " Most true," responds
our author ; yet if circumstances have not given us any desire about the
matter, then we have no reason to be troubled. If we have not the wish,
we cannot complain of its non-fulfilment. In this case, we are dumb cattle,
driven forward by an inexorable master, Fate ; but luckily we are blind
cattle, and do not therefore lament our destiny, because we are ignorant
that the path along which we are driven terminates on a precipice.
We cannot find much comfort in this suggestion. In nd proper sense
are we masters of our own destiny, if the mastership is given or withheld
only by some circumstance over which we have no control ; and it is a
very imperfect mastership at best, as the existence of the wish is only one
out of the many antecedents, independent of our own will, which determine
our whole conduct A faint wish would have little or no effect " If what
we do depends on our wishing to do it," says Dr. Walker, " and our wish
ing to do it depends not on ourselves, then nothing depends on ourselves,
except to be the willing and active instruments of destiny." The most de
cided Fatalist will readily admit, that the thoughts and wishes which come
into our minds without any agency on our part, and whether we will or not,
are among the circumstances which regulate our actions and shape our destiny.
In all other respects, save the two qualifying doctrines (if they can be
called such) which we have now fully considered, Mr. Mill is a consistent
and rigorous Fatalist He is too good a logician to stop short of any
legitimate inferences from his doctrine, and too bold and independent a
thinker to shrink from avowing these inferences, whatever they may be.
" There is no Thing produced, no event happening, in the known uni
verse, which is not connected by a uniformity, or invariable sequence, with
some one or more of the phenomena which preceded it ; insomuch that it
will happen again as often as those phenomena occur again, and as no
other phenomenon having the character of a counteracting cause shall co
exist. These antecedent phenomena, again, were connected in a similar
manner with some that preceded them ; and so on, until we reach, as the
ultimate step attainable by us, either the properties of some one primeval
cause, or the conjunction of severaL
" The state of the whole universe at any instant we believe to be the
consequence of its state at the previous instant ; insomuch that one who
knew all the agents which exist at the present moment, their collocation in
space, and their properties, in other words, the laws of their agency,
could predict the whole subsequent history of the universe, at least unless
some new volition of a power capable of controlling the universe should
supervene," Vol. L pp. 357, 358.
116 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
requisitions of mathematical logic are complied with in the work
of their master ; the reasoning is perfectly abstract, the techni
calities of the geometer and algebraist are preserved, and no flaw
can be found in the demonstration. I fully admit the justice of
this boast ; if you grant Spinoza s premises, there is no stopping
short of Spinoza s conclusions. Once admit that efficient causa
tion belongs to matter, that one particle really acts on another
particle by its inherent power or principle, and necessitates a
change of its state, and it follows that the displacement of a
grain of sand must alter the history of the universe. Each
event is bound by iron necessity to all preceding and all subse
quent events, the chain of Fate extending from the fall of an
atom up to the throne of God. Admit further, that the volitions
and acts of a conscious agent are events of the same order with
occurrences in the material universe, having their antecedents
and consequents, with which they equally stand in invariable
relations, and man himself is like a grain of sand, controlled and
blown about by the winds of destiny. Thought and extension,
then, are attributes of one infinite substance, both being mani
fested by the same inherent necessity, both being what they are
because other things are what they are.
"All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
"Whose body Nature is, and God the soul ; "
the word soul being here understood in the same sense as inter
nal constitution, or essence, as if we should say, that it is the
nature, or soul, of iron to be hard, weighty, and malleable. The
parts of the great whole being thus bound together, each being
the result of all, and all of each, it follows, to repeat Fichte s
illustration, that, the slightest particular being given, the
course of a muscle, or the turn of a hair, in a certain individual,
and if Nature could answer, she would be able to foretell all his
good and evil deeds, from the beginning to the end of his life.
An inwrought necessity extends through the whole web of
events physical and mental, reaching from infinitude to infini
tude ; and this necessity is God. Nothing acts ; every thing is
acted upon ; nothing moves, every thing is moved ; this neces
sity itself, being the inherent nature of things, and not an ex-
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 117
ternal force, operating from without, is said only formally to
compel, or to act, since it is passive, not efficient. Thus the
system of Spinoza is but the consistent and universal applica
tion of the law of causality, (wrongly interpreted, as I believe,)
but taken absolutely, to all conceivable events; it is but the
extension of this principle, that every event must have a cause.
It cannot be denied, that there is a kind of awful sublimity in
this appalling doctrine, in its simplicity, consistency, and uni
versality, which renders it very impressive to the imagination,
und accounts, in a great degree, for the favor with which it is
received by many persons of a poetical temperament. An
Oriental fable, says Mr. Stewart, " places the import of the
doctrine in a more striking light than I could do by any philo
sophical comment. The Arabians tell us, that as Solomon
(whom they supposed a magician, from his superior wisdom)
was one day walking with a person in Palestine, his companion
said to him, with horror, i What hideous speotre is that which
approaches us ? I do not like his visage. Send me, I pray
thee, to the remotest mountain of India. Solomon complied,
and the very moment he was sent off, the spectre arrived.
Solomon, said he, how came that fellow here ? I was to
have fetched him from the remotest mountain of India. Solo
mon answered, ANGEL OF DEATH, thou wilt find him there ! *
Spinozism contrasted with the doctrine of immediate divine
agency. I have chosen to present this terrible dogma of uni
versal fatalism, for the first time fully and scientifically devel
oped by Spinoza, in immediate juxtaposition and contrast with
that view of causation to which we were led by the principles
adopted in this work; with the doctrine, that is, which de
nies that there is any power or efficient agency whatever in
brute matter, even by transmission, or as derived from a higher
source, and which ascribes all causation to spirit, or person, *
whether finite, and therefore often inadequate, and always lim
ited in its sphere of action, or infinite, and so necessarily ade
quate to all occasions, both controlling and sustaining the uni
verse of things, from the fall of a leaf up to the creation of a
world. The two doctrines are the opposite extremes of thig
118 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
question ; they are the antipodes of each other. But I believe
they are also the only logical and consistent creeds which we
can entertain upon this subject, all intermediate views being
imperfect and inconsequent. Begin with any event you please
in the material universe, not immediately connected with the
agency, real or supposed, of man, and but two suppositions re
specting its cause are possible. Take, for instance, the melting
of wax in the flame ; if you believe that the flame really acts on
the wax, that there is an inherent and underived power in the
former to melt, and a necessity in the very constitution of the
latter to be melted, when the two are brought together, then
you cannot consistently stop short of Spinozism ; you must also
believe that the fall of a leaf from a tree is at once a cause and
a consequence directly connected with the destruction of em
pires, and with the movement of the planets round the sun.
But if you believe that the flame has no power or causality of
its own, and all agree that none can be detected in it, if
you admit that the two events (namely, the bringing of the two
substances together, and the melting of one of them) are related
to each other only as antecedent and consequent in time, though
invariably thus related as far as our experience extends, then
all action is personal, or begins from mind, and what we call
the course of nature is but the infinite activity, the constant
government, of God.
Hypothetical character of Spinoza s system. For a refuta
tion of Spinoza s system, therefore, we have only to recapitulate
the principles that have already been advanced. The first ar
gument against it is, that it is, throughout, an application of
abstract, metaphysical reasoning to matters of fact. The idea of
cause is metaphysical, or rather hyperphysical, as it is nowhere
furnished by external nature, which gives us an idea only of
the sequences of events ; and as Spinoza rejects the doctrine of
the independent personality of the will, he could not derive it
even from internal experience. To him, cause is a mere ab
straction, denoting invariability in the succession of events ; and
to consider it, therefore, as accounting for the origin of these
events is a mere assumption. The reasoning begins with an
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 119
abstraction and an hypothesis ; given the idea of cause, or ab
stract invariableness of succession, and supposing that all events
are of the same order, that is, that the active states of mind do
not differ from the passive capacities or susceptibilities of mat
ter, and certain results follow. Logically, then, the reasoning
must end where it began ; that is, in an ideal or hypothetical
universe, in which we may suppose that this abstraction is a real
ity, and this assumption a fact. In its application to real occur
rences, or the actual universe, it must be fallacious. Spinoza
uses demonstrative reasoning exclusively, and it has been proved
that this can lead only to abstract conclusions.
Spinozism confounds mind and matter, The second objec
tion to the system is, that it requires thought and extension to
be considered as attributes of one and the same substance ; the
phenomena of mind must be placed in the same order with
material events, and thus equally subjected to the iron rule of
necessity. But it has been proved that person, or self, is essen
tially distinct from matter, as it is indivisible, and has the con
sciousness of activity, or of power in action ; while matter is
infinitely divisible, and can only be acted upon ; its inertness, or
passive submission to any forces that are applied to it, having
no internal force wherewith to resist them, is in truth the only
reason for believing that all its changes of state are necessary.
We say that the movements and changes of matter are inevi
table or necessary, because we perceive that matter has no power
to act of itself, so that it must be operated upon from without ;
and we derive this belief of power of some sort as essential to
action from the phenomena of consciousness. If it were not from
observing, that, within the proper domain of the will, no act takes
place unless preceded by a volition, that is, by a consciousness
of effort, we never could have arrived at a knowledge of the
law of causality, namely, that every event must have somewhere
an efficient cause. Now, it is the vice of Spinoza s system, that
it ignores the idea of power altogether ; every thing is caused,
nothing causes ; every thing is moved, nothing moves ; power is
transmitted, as it were, from one event to another, each one
being compelled or necessitated by that which preceded it, and
120 FATALISM AND FREEWILI~
in its turn compelling its consequent, and yet this power, thus
transmitted, and thus enforcing the law of necessity, has its
origin nowhere. We pursue its fleeting shadow through a se
ries of events, but can never overtake it, for the series is infinite.
The powder exploded because the spark fell upon it ; the spark
fell, because the flint excuded it from the steel ; the flint and
steel were struck together by the action of a man, this action
being the result of a volition, and this volition being necessarily
determined by certain antecedent emotions anid beliefs, these
states of mind being inevitably consequent on certain sensations,
and these again, on some preceding physical events ; and so
we proceed, tracing the chain once more through the world of
matter, then perhaps again to a conscious mind, and so on to
infinitude. Nature, then, according to Spinoza s system, is noS
only infinite in extent, but eternal j strictly speaking, nothing
ever began to be, and creation is but a dream. The power, or
necessity, which now is, has existed from eternity, and has
travelled down to us through an infinite series of events, never
relaxing its iron grasp, never varying in intensity or diminish
ing in strength, a blind and unconscious God.
Power is not transmitted, but is always primitive. Against
this terrific and incredible conception, the Avay/c^ of the Greek
tragedians, place the theory of power, or causation, which I
have endeavored here to develop. Consider power really as
such, that is, as exerted with freedom, not as caused, but as
causing, not as merely transmitted, but originating afresh in
every act. Replace mind as a distinct existence by the side of
matter; restore personality, or self, as the most fundamental
and the most frequently repeated of all our conceptions ; and
thus dethrone this blind spectre of Fate, and replace a conscious
Deity on the throne of the universe. Volition is necessarily
followed by the act, and thus we gain the idea of the necessary
connection between cause and effect ; but that this act propa
gates itself, or produces, by its own inherent energy, another
event in the external universe, is what we have no evidence of
whatever, either by sensible observation, or in the world of con
sciousness. Matter is essentially inert and passive, and for this
FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 121
reason, among others, we say that every change in its state must
have a cause ; or that mind, the only true energy or source of
power with which we are acquainted, must be operating on it
from without or within. We do not find that agency in an
antecedent physical event ; and it is not true that one event is,
at the same time, or in two consecutive instants, both effect and
cause, or produced by one phenomenon, and producing another.
Power, or efficient agency, is needed at each step; and to find
whence it comes, we must look to mind or person, that is, to an
agency not caused or necessary, but voluntary. That favorite
metaphor, of a chain of causes and effects, when literally con
strued, has no meaning ; it is contradictory, for it affirms and
denies the existence of active power at each link.
Motives do not constrain volitions. That mental phenomena
take place in succession, and therefore, that each volition is in
variably preceded by motives, desires, and beliefs, is a circum
stance that need not perplex our argument. The relation
between the motives and the act is that of mere sequence in time,
not accompanied by any consciousness of power exerted ; while
the relation between the volition and the act, as in the case of
forced attention, is truly causative, the consciousness of effort or
exertion being perfectly distinct. To say that the motive causes
the action, is to make the will inoperative altogether, or non
existent. Whatever may be the operation of motives, they
operate on the man, or on self; whatever may be the nature of
the action, it is not the motives which act, but the man acts.
We must not lose sight of the absolute indivisibility of person,
and the consequent fact, that what are called the separate fac
ulties of mind are but different and successive states, or condi
tions of being, of the same individual. There is no will, but
only the man willing, no motive, only the man contemplating
various objects of desire. Now, two successive states of the
same substance do not cause each other ; we might as well say,
that the heat of a bar of iron, when just withdrawn from the fire,
causes its subsequent coldness after it is exposed to the air.
One state precedes the other, but does not cause, or necessitate,
the other.
11
122 FATALISM AND FREEWILL.
Neither external nor internal causes determine the will. If a
lump of matter changes its state, if from a solid, it becomes a
liquid, or assumes a new color or a new shape, we look for the
cause of this change to something existing out of the substance
itself, and operating upon it from without. We do so, from our
intuitive perception of the fact, that it is incapable of acting on
itself, or, in other words, of changing itself. But if incapable
of acting on itself, how can we suppose that it is capable of act
ing on something else ? If it cannot change itself but through
the intervention of a foreign cause, how can it change the state
of another substance ? We deny, then, that one physical event
depends on another of a similar character ; and Fichte s long
chain of causes, from the displacement of a grain of sand up to
the creation of a world, drops asunder at every link. In the
world of consciousness, moreover, since there is often no external
event to which a particular change or determination of the will
can be attributed, the necessarian, in seeking for a cause of the
phenomenon, is obliged to look to an antecedent state of the man
himself., that is, to a motive, a preexistent or concomitant
longing or desire. He thinks to make out his theory, then, by
saying, that the strongest motive causes the change, or, in other
words, determines the will. But as the mind or person is abso
lutely single, and only exhibits itself under different phases, or
as variously employed, the motive means nothing but the man
himself wishing for some object ; and the determination of the
will means nothing but the same person acting. The assertion,
that the motive determines the will, therefore, is only an abstract
statement of the fact, that the man wishing determines the man
acting, or that the will determines itself, which is precisely
the theory of the advocate for human freedom. The necessa
rian theory is absurd, for it assigns an abstraction as the cause
of a reality.
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 123
CHAPTER VI.
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY CONTINUED : REASONING
FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
Summary of the last chapter. The two theories of causation,
which I h^e endeavored to develop, terminate respectively in
the system of Spinoza, which is atheistic fatalism, and in that of
freewill, which ascribes all action to mind or person, and there
fore attributes all changes that take place in the universe, ex
cept those which are caused by man, to the immediate agency
of the Deity. These two theories are the only ones with which
we need concern ourselves, for they alone are logical, consistent,
and complete. No compromise is possible between them.
Take the doctrine of necessity in its mildest and most liberal
form, as expounded by those who shrank from the awful conse
quences that Spinoza deduced from it, and it will not be difficult
to show that it is partial and inconsequent ; the premises on
which it rests, as we might expect from the demonstrative char
acter of the reasoning employed, leading either to universal con
clusions, or to no conclusions at all. Spinozism in itself is ut
terly incredible and absurd, no sane man ever having actually
believed it, or entertained it in any way, except as a mere exer
cise of the intellect, the fanciful scheme of a hypothetical uni
verse, in which abstractions are taken for realities and assump
tions for facts.
I endeavored to show further, that the argument in support
of this monstrous system, being a mathematical one, needs to be
complete and certain in all its parts, so that if a breach be any
where made in it, the whole fabric must fall. To prove the
falsity of any one doctrine, that is really involved in it, is to dis
prove the whole system. Observe, then, at how many points it
is refuted by the principles which we have already established
124 THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY.
by independent evidence. First, it begins with the assumption,
that every physical event is caused, or necessitated, by the an
tecedent physical event ; while it is now admitted on all hands,
that we never have discovered, and never can discover, between
two physical events any necessary union whatever. Secondly,
the system requires us to believe, that there is no distinction
between mind and matter, but that thought and extension are
attributes of the same substance ; while it has been proved that
personality is essentially distinct from materiality, and that the
acts of the will do not belong to the same class with changes in
matter, so that reasoning from the latter to the forme 4 ! is wholly
fallacious ; they have not even any qualities in common.
Thirdly, Spinoza denies that there is any such thing as active
power, and teaches that every event is necessarily produced by
the inherent passivity, so to speak, of all objects, there being
nowhere an agent, a mover, or a primal source of power ; while
it has been shown, that in the phenomena of will, there is a con
sciousness of effort or exertion, which is a direct perception of
original, and not of merely transmitted, power. Fourthly, a car
dinal point in the system is a denial of the freedom of the will,
and the consequent doing away with all sense of moral obliga
tion, all consciousness of merit or remorse for crime ; while the
voice of conscience imperatively declares, what we can no more
disbelieve than we can distrust the multiplication-table or the
axioms of the geometer, that man is accountable for his actions,
and incurs merit or blame for deeds which he was free to commit.
Argument for the freedom of the will continued. In regard
to the freedom of the will, I argued furthei, what all experience
teaches, that, of two successive states of the same substance, the
former is not the cause of the latter, but only its antecedent.
Daylight is not the cause of darkness ; a headache does not
produce the freedom from pain which follows it. The consid
eration of motives and the subsequent volition are two successive
states of the same person ; if there were a causal or necessary
union between them, the latter would immediately succeed the
former ; for when the cause is present, the effect cannot be de
layed. But we often and involuntarily pause and dwell upou
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 125
various motives, holding them up in various lights, and balanc
ing them against each other, the will remaining quiescent during
this process, the understanding and reason alone being active.
Now, if the strongest motive is necessarily followed by the voli
tion, why is it not immediately so followed, the motives being
certainly before the mind ? If you assert, that there is an im
mediate determination of the will in such a case, namely, a de
termination to remain quiet, or to postpone the particular action
in view till the motives have been fully weighed, I deny the fact.
The will certainly may remain dormant for a time, without a
particular volition to that end. Take the case of a man ab
sorbed in some operation of pure intellect, considering, for
instance, the various steps of a mathematical problem ; there is
no action of the will here, not even a volition to suspend volition.
But the balancing of motives is as much an intellectual opera
tion as mathematical research ; why, then, I repeat, if motives
necessarily act on the will, do they not determine it immediately ?
I see not how it is possible for the necessarian to answer this
question in conformity with his theory. y
The will is a source of power, and is not an effect. But it is
argued against the doctrine of the freedom of the will, that it
requires us to believe in an uncaused event, and thus denies the
universal application of the law of causality. How can a voli
tion, it is asked, take place without a cause, if it be true that
every change, every thing which begins to exist, must have a
cause ? I reply, that the law of causation is founded on the ac
knowledged inertness of matter ; because matter cannot act on
itself, we say that every change in matter must have a cause ;
but it does not follow that this cause is also in its turn an effect,
and must have been caused by some antecedent event, and
that again by another cause, and so on to infinity. This notion
of a chain, or infinite series, of causes has already been refuted,
because it really banishes all idea of efficient agency from the
jniverse ; we chase the phantom of a cause along the line for
ever, without the possibility of overtaking it. The true maxim
is, that every physical event, every material phenomenon, must
have a cause, because it cannot act of itself; but it does not fol*
11*
126 THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY.
low that this cause must also have a cause, for it is itself a source
of power ; it is mind, or person, which, unlike matter, can act of
itself, and therefore does not need a cause. It is an unauthor
ized extension of the law of causality, to say that every action
of a conscious agent must have a cause, just as much as a mate
rial phenomenon. This would be begging the question in the
present case, and it is refuted by the direct evidence of con
sciousness, which teaches us that the will is a true source of
power in itself. We must get rid of this notion of transmitted
power, or a chain of causes and effects, which is a mere fiction,
founded on the interminable succession of material phenomena ;
this succession, as we have shown again and again, is not causa
tion, but mere sequence in time. Each event in that succession
must have a cause ; but this cause is not found, and never can
be found, in the antecedent physical event, but only in some
power, or being, acting out of the line ; and to ask for the cause
of this being, that is, for the cause of this power, or cause of a
cause, is absurd.
Reid s statement of the doctrine of causation. Thus, the doc
trine of the freedom of the will brings us back again to the
grand dogma of the immediate agency of the Deity throughout
creation, that is, to the omnipresence and omnipotence of God.
In some recently published letters, from the private correspon
dence of Dr. Reid, I find a part of this theory of causation so
clearly stated and illustrated, that a few passages from them
may well be cited here. " In the strict and proper sense," says
this philosopher, " I take an efficient cause to be a being who
had power to produce the effect, and exerted that power for
that purpose. Power to produce an effect supposes power not
to produce it ; otherwise it is not power, but necessity, which is
incompatible with power taken in a strict sense. I am not able
to form a conception how power, in the strict sense, can be ex
erted without will ; nor can there be will without some degree
of understanding. Therefore, nothing can be an efficient cause,
in the proper sense, but an intelligent being, I believe we get
the first conception of power, in the. proper sense, from the con
sciousness of our own exertions ; and as all our power is exerted
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 127
by will, we cannot form a conception how power can be exerted
without will. Matter cannot be the cause of any thing ; it can
only be an instrument in the hands of a real cause."
" Suppose, now, that you take the word cause in this strict
sense ; its relation to its effect is so self-evidently different from
the relation of a motive to an action, that I am jealous of a
mathematical demonstration of a truth so self-evident. Nothing
is more difficult than to demonstrate what is self-evident. A
cause is a being which has a real existence ; a motive has no
real existence, and therefore can have no active power. It is a
thing conceived, and not a thing that exists ; and therefore can
neither be active, nor even passive. To say that a motive
really acts, is as absurd as to say, that a motive drinks my
health, or that a motive gives me a box on the ear."
" We are early conscious of some power in ourselves to pro
duce some events ; and our nature leads us to think that every
event is produced by a power similar to that which we find in
ourselves, that is, by will and exertion ; when a weight falls
and hurts a child, he is angry with it, he attributes power and
will to every thing that seems to act. Language is formed upon
these early sentiments, and attributes action and power to things
that are afterwards discovered to have neither will nor power.
By this means, the notion of action and causation is gradually
changed ; what was essential to it at first [namely, will,] is left
out, while the name remains ; and the term cause is applied to
things which we believe to be inanimate and passive."
How it came to be believed that matter is a cause. Again,
" It is a curious problem in human nature, how, in the progress
of life, we come by the lax notion of power, agency, cause, and
effect, and to ascribe them to things that have no will nor intel
ligence. I am apt to think, with the Abbe Raynal, that sav
ages, (I add children, as in the same predicament,) * wherever
they see motion that they cannot account for, there they suppose
a soul. Hence, they ascribe active power and causation to sun,
moon, and stars, rivers, fountains, sea, air, and earth ; these are
conceived to be causes in the strict sense. In this period of
society, language is formed, and its fundamental rules and forms
128 THR ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY.
established. Active verbs are applied only to things that ar6
believed to have power and activity in the proper sense. Every
part of nature which moves, without our seeing any external
cause of its motion, is conceived to be a cause in the strict sense,
and therefore is called so. At length, the more acute and spec
ulative few discover, that some of those things which the vulgar
believe to be animated like themselves are inanimate, and have
neither will nor understanding ; " but they must still " speak
the common language, and suit it to their new notions as well as
they can ; just as philosophers say with the vulgar, that the sun
rises and sets, and the moon changes."
Metaphysical reasoning not needed to prove the being of a
God. - With these quotations from Dr. Reid, I conclude the
more abstract portion of the discussion in which we are engaged.
To some it may appear, that we have been wandering a long
time in a mere wilderness of logic and metaphysics, " whence
issuing, we again behold the stars." I certainly do not believe
that it is necessary to pass through all the abstruse reasoning,
which has thus far occupied our attention, before we can obtain
any firm and well-grounded faith in the great doctrines of relig
ion. It would be an impeachment of the goodness of the
Deity to suppose, that he has given to his creatures only such
intimations or proofs of his own existence and his will as the
most cultivated and ingenious minds can follow slowly and with
great effort. On the contrary, the conclusions in this great
argument are so obvious and direct, lying but a step from the
premises, which are numberless, and so nearly akin to the
mental processes which we are compelled to use for the daily
purposes of life, that the child or the savage cannot avoid rest
ing in them with sufficient confidence. It is no doubtful infer
ence, no long and tedious process of reasoning, which connects
all events in the history of the universe with the being and
attributes of a God. The conclusion is so obvious, the connec
tion so close and striking, that it is difficult to believe that any
mind not wilfully obtuse, or not perverted by logical subtilities
and metaphysical abstractions, ever failed to receive it with
perfect trust at the first view.
THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 129
How far metaphysical reasoning is useful. But the impor
tance of these preliminary considerations appears from the fact,
that they afford a complete answer to the objections urged by
\skeptics so formidable as Spinoza, Hume, Kant, and the later
school of German infidels. Those who are not conversant with
the objections may safely pass over the answers to them ; but
to many others, they may be of use from their tendency to do
away with an impression, now, it is to be feared, quite too
common, that the common proofs of the being of a God, how
ever satisfactory to the vulgar, will not bear the test of a sound
philosophy or of strict logical analysis. They tend, at any rate,
to clear the ground, to establish certain data, or sound premises
for the argument, and to furnish logical rules for the conduct
of the inquiry. Let us hold fast, then, to the ground which we
have acquired, and having established certain principles, let us
use them without doubt or hesitation for the remainder of the
discussion. Let no one imagine, for instance, that reasoning
from the effect to the cause, as we shall have occasion to do, is
illogical, because Hume and others have demonstrated that phys
ical causes, so called, are mere antecedents, and that no power,
or efficient energy, can be detected in them. All this is admit
ted ; but the only consequence of it is, not to banish the notion
of cause altogether, but to substitute for material causes and
transmitted power the idea of direct personal agency, accompa
nied by intelligence and will. Neither let the grim dogma of
necessity, or absolute fate, any longer shadow the faith of the
believer with the fear, lest the commands of the Almighty
should be nugatory from his own moral inability to comply
with them. The doctrine of freewill rests upon foundations
which are not to be shaken by the utmost force of philosophical
skepticism.
Above all, let us know what we are to expect as the result
of the inquiry, and what weight is to be given to the disparag
ing remark, that truths supported only by moral evidence are
at best but contingent, and that demonstration of a fact is im
possible. The evidence which supports the fundamental truths
of religion is precisely the same with that which directs all our
130 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
conduct in life, and, in ordinary cases, no one thinks of com
plaining that it is insufficient. To say that it is moral, instead
of being demonstrative, is only to admit that the truths them
selves are practical, and not speculative. I repeat it then, there
can be no fears for the strength of our religious faith, if it stands
upon the same platform with the whole round of the physical
sciences, so that no assault can reach even its outworks, till the
entire fabric of these sciences shall be demolished, and it be
made to appear that all the boasted attainments of the last
three centuries in the study of nature have been unprofitable
and vain.
Analysis of the common argument a posteriori. The common
argument a posteriori for the being of a God is divided into two
branches, according as we seek to establish the reality of some
cause, no matter what, simply from the presence of an effect, or
as we endeavor to determine the nature of that cause from the
peculiarities of the effect ; the one is reasoning from efficient,
the other from final, causation. The one proceeds simply from
nature up to nature s God, as from a fact otherwise inexplicable
to that which is at once the origin and the explanation of that
fact ; the other infers, from the peculiar character of the works
of creation, that a purpose or design is accomplished in them,
and consequently assumes that this design must have been pre
viously entertained by an intelligent being, having power ade
quate to the work. Thus, the geologist infers, from the dislo
cated and upheaved position of certain strata of rock, that there
must have been some cause of the disturbance and elevation ;
this is his first conclusion, and it is quite distinct from his sub
sequent inquiry, as to the time, nature, and extent of the convul
sion which produced the phenomena that he now seeks to ex
plain. This later inquiry must proceed from careful observa
tion of the particular facts in the case, of the minor circum
stances which go to prove that the grand change was produced
by one cause rather than another. It is the former and more
comprehensive conclusion, the validity of which we are now to
examine.
Criticism of Dr. Clarke s argument. The argument is
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 131
stated in its simplest, but not, as it seems to me, in its most log
ical or conclusive form, by Dr. Clarke. He reasons thus:
" Something must have existed from all eternity, otherwise,
the things that now are must have been produced out of nothing,
absolutely and without cause, which is a plain contradiction in
terms. For to say a thing is produced, and yet that there is no
cause at all of that production, is to say that something is effected
by nothing, that is, it is not effected at all." I pause here to
remark, that Dr. Clarke, in his anxiety to make his reasoning
exclusively metaphysical, and consequently to avoid all refer
ence to matters-of-fact, makes two unfounded assumptions :
first, that we have a metaphysical knowledge of " the things
that now are," a loose and indeterminate expression, which
means, if it means any thing, the universe of animate and inan
imate being, though the existence of this universe is certainly
made known to us only by physical evidence, that is, by ex
perience, whether by observation through the senses, or by con
sciousness ; and secondly, his assertion, that " otherwise the
things that now are must have been produced out of nothing,"
must be understood to mean, that the things which now are must
have begun to be without an antecedent cause ; inasmuch as to
say that they were produced, is begging the question as to their
producer. The reasoning is worth nothing, unless it is sup
ported by the general law of causality, the law, that is, that
every thing which begins to be must have a cause ; and this
law, for reasons already alleged, must be considered as the dic
tate of experience. Of course, Clarke s argument is of a meta
physical or a priori character only in name ; it is just as much
founded on physical testimony as the argument from design.
It proceeds from the existence of realities, made known to us
by the senses and by consciousness, to the cause of these reali
ties, the ground of the inference being a general maxim, the
truth of which is collected from experience.*
* Dr. Clarke has proposed another argument, which is more metaphys
ical, and therefore less conclusive, than the one considered above. This
second form of proof, briefly stated, is as follows.
" Space and time are alike infinite and necessary, for we cannot even
132 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
Still, the argument thus far, whatever may be its technical
designation, is a valid one, and is in truth unanswerable. From
the universe of things that are, we infer, either that these things
have existed for ever, or that they began to be ; and if the latter,
then there must have been a cause of their beginning of exist
ence ; and this cause must either have existed from eternity, or
else it also had a cause, and so on. Hence we are reduced
to the alternative of admitting the existence, either of one eter
nal being, or of an infinite series of dependent beings, each one
having been produced by its predecessor. So far. the argument
is sound; but Clarke proceeds to urge several metaphysical
reasons, which seem to me quite unsatisfactory from the very
conceive of their limitation or their non-existence. They are not in them
selves substances, but attributes, and as such, necessarily presuppose a sub
stance, without which they could not exist ; and this substance is, conse
quently, infinite and self-existent."
But the word substance, as here used, is entirely indefinite ; the idea
of it includes neither personality nor intelligence. The argument, at the
utmost, proves only that something exists, to which these attributes belong ;
and this something, Clarke immediately assumes to be a particular Being.
The sophism consists in this illogical transition from the general to the
particular, from the abstract to the concrete ; and a more palpable one can
hardly be imagined.
Besides, the proposition that space and time are attributes, if not wholly
unintelligible, must be understood in the same sense as the proposition,
that human beings exist in space and time. Finite space and time are
qualities of man, in the same way that eternity and immensity are attri
butes of the Supreme Being. Now, human beings are not necessary or
self-existent. And if finite space and time do not necessitate a finite sub
stance, so neither do the ideas of immensity and eternity compel us to be
lieve in an infinite substance.
The whole argument rests on an abuse of language. Time and space
are not attributes, but conditions of being. We cannot conceive of any thing
except as existent under these conditions ; but we may conceive that the
conditions are fulfilled, while the reality is wanting. Atmospheric air, for
instance, is a condition of man s bodily existence ; he cannot live without
it. But air may be, as at the North Pole, where man is not. In Clarke s
argument, the prerequisite is made to change places with the reality, or the
thing conditioned. He infers the presence of the thing, from the fulfil
ment of the conditions, which is precisely inverting the two terms of the
only legitimate inference.
REASONING FKOM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
fact that they are metaphysical, for rejecting the hypothesis of
an infinite series of created beings, and hence for resting in the
conclusion that there is but one eternal being, who is God.
The truth is, Clarke quite confounds two perfectly distinct mean
ings of the term necessity ; and on this fallacy, this confusion of
terms, the whole of his subsequent reasoning depends. In a
syllogism, the conclusion necessarily follows from the premises ;
and this we call a logical necessity. For an instance of the
other kind, take the necessary and unlimited existence of space.
Space is indestructible ; we can conceive of the annihilation of
matter, but not of the space which matter now occupies. Im
agine, if you can, the destruction of the room or space which
this building now occupies. You can conceive easily enough of
the annihilation of all objects within it that this space should
be made empty or void ; but you cannot conceive of the space
itself as annihilated, or as no longer affording room for other
objects. Now this necessary existence of space we may call, for
want of a better term, a physical necessity. Clarke quite con
founds these two significations of the word ; having shown by
argument which lie holds to be demonstrative, that God must
exist, that is, that there is a logical necessity for our believing in
his existence, he goes on to reason as if he had established a
physical necessity of the being of a God ; that is, he thought to
prove that we can no more conceive of his non-existence, than
we can of the non-existence of space or time. If this were so,
atheism were impossible, and then it would be difficult to tell why
any argument was needed, or why Clarke thought it necessary
to write his book, if there was nobody to be convinced by it.
As to the possibility of atheism, if a man can be so far blinded
by metaphysical subtilties as to doubt his own existence, I do
not see why he cannot go on to deny the being of a God.
The universe must have had a cause. But it was not my
object to show that the reasoning of Clarke is fallacious, but only
to select that portion of it which is open to no cavil or objection,
and from this, if possible, to proceed to a satisfactory conclusion.
Let us go back, then, to the proposition, sufficiently established
by him, that we must believe either in one eternal being, or in an
12
134 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
infinite series of created beings. Are there sufficient reasons for
rejecting the latter branch of this alternative? Metaphysical
reasons for rejecting it I cannot find ; I frankly admit, that the
bare conception of such an infinite series is no more impossible
in this argument than it is, for instance, in mathematics, where
the mere tyro will present to you the law and the sum of such a
series without difficulty or hesitation. The presence of it is no
more perplexing to him in the calculation, than is that of the
expression for the root of a number which is not a perfect square
or other power. But in mathematics, as in natural theology,
the infinite series is possible as an abstraction, but not as a
reality. There are physical considerations, so to speak, which
are conclusive against the hypothesis that this vast machine of
the universe, even on the supposition that it is continually prop
agating and renewing itself by the laws now in force considered
as real causes, had no beginning, but has existed from all eter
nity in an infinite series of changes, decay, and restoration. I
speak now of the universe, not as a more aggregation of brute
matter , which it is not, but as a vast and complex organism, all
the parts of which are in constant and harmonious activity, and
tenanted by various orders of life, each of which is continued in
one direct line, and, so far as human observation has extended,
under a permanent type. It would not be difficult, I believe, to
establish this proposition in reference to the whole system of
worlds, the solar and starry kingdoms, of which our earth is but
so small a part. But we know so little of these, beyond the
general facts that they exist, and move, or are moved, in accord
ance with the law of gravitation, that an argument either for or
against their eternal existence in their present form, and under
their present laws, would have too much the aspect of an appeal
to human ignorance. We could only say, either on the affirma
tive or the negative side, that it might be so for aught that we
knew to the contrary j a conclusion unsatisfactory in itself,
likely to be overthrown by the progress of discovery, and almost
sure to be disproved by that knowledge which we may conceive
a superior spirit to possess, both of their external and internal
economy.
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 135
For a similar, but still stronger reason, I put aside here the
question as to the eternal existence of inorganic matter, which is,
at best, but the brute material out of which worlds are fashioned.
Whether this exists at all, according to the ordinary conception
of it, is doubtful ; and it is certain that we have no knowledge
of it, that we cannot perceive it, that we cannot distinguish be
tween the qualities properly belonging to it in itself, and those
imposed upon it either by our own faculties of observation, or
by an external power.
Physical proof that the world did begin to be. I confine the
inquiry, then, to the past duration of the only world with which
we have any immediate concern, to the antecedent history of
this earth, to the assumed continuance, through the endless ages
that are past, of the various lines and races of animate and organic
being, upheld only by the inherent energy of the laws, so called,
which support or direct their present existence. Have we
proof or disproof of infinite series here ? I contend that we
have testimony, clear, unquestioned, scientific, admitted by all
physical inquirers who have any acquaintance with the subject,
even by those most prejudiced against the conclusions which I
wish to establish, that organization and life on this earth, through
all their myriad forms, throughout the vegetable and animal
aye, even the mineral kingdoms, did begin to be, and that
within definite periods of time. We even pronounce with cer
tainty on their relative ages, and map out chronologically the
history of the world, from chaos down to the time when man,
the last comer, was introduced upon a scene which was, by
comparison with those which had preceded it, one of perfect
symmetry and order. Geology declares without hesitation, and
with as much distinctness as Holy Writ, that time was when the
earth was without form and void, and before the dry land ap
peared. Thence it traces down the annals of things : first,
the successive induction of those circumstances which rendered
even the lowest forms of life possible ; then the creation of those
low forms ; their subsequent utter extinction, so that they have
no representatives among us at the present day; the filling
of their place by higher orders of being ; and so on, through
136 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
successive transformations of life, down to the appearance of
man.
I am not dwelling now on any of the more obscure and dis
puted doctrines of geological science. I am not resting this
great argument on any of the theories, often contradictory, or
very questionable, respecting the particular circumstances under
which certain strata of rocks were raised from the bottom of an
ocean, or certain mountains upheaved from the plain. All that
is needed for the purposes of the present discussion may be
found in those first principles and elementary facts of geology,
which are now universally admitted, and which, indeed, cannot
be denied without impeaching the trustworthy character of the
evidence on which all physical science depends. Your own
eyes have probably seen the fossil forms of those extinct races
which once peopled the earth that is now our home. You have
heard or read the history of these lost tribes, and various specu
lations about the catastrophes or gradual changes which swept
them away, and the new forms of life which succeeded them.
You have seen the marks of igneous formation or alluvial de
posit in the very stones on which you daily tread, and have had
your thoughts thus carried back by necessary inference to periods
when the first continents were raised from the bosom of the deep,
when mountains of ice floated over what are now fertile tracts
peopled by myriad forms of terrestrial life, or when the incan
descent surface of the earth still glowed with the heat which
even now rages but a few miles below its outer rind. Then
occurs to us, with a more impressive significance, the awful
question which the Hebrew poet seemed to hear, as coming out
of the whirlwind : " Where wast thou, when I laid the founda
tions of the earth ? Declare, if thou hast understanding."
I say, then, that the past continuance, through an infinite
series of years, of that order of things which we now behold, under
laws similar to those which now direct or express that order, is
disproved by an amount of physical testimony that is absolutely
conclusive. Ignorance may deny this proposition, but the in
structed skeptic must admit it. Remember that the point we
are now seeking to establish is a fact, and that I am arguing it
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 137
by an appeal to facts. You can judge whether the conviction
produced by the mass of evidence, to which I have merely
alluded, would be, to any appreciable extent, either confirmed or
shaken by a metaphysical discussion of the abstract possibility
of an infinite series of dependent beings.
Application of the argument from effect to cause. We have,
then, the starting point for the application of the argument from
the effect to the cause. Certain things began to be. At a cer
tain period, which is not even a very remote one, when consid
ered in that gigantic chronology which geological science obliges
us to contemplate, all the present races of living things, all or
ganized forms that we now behold, were not. There was no
firm-set earth on which they could tread, there were no articles
for their aliment and sustenance, there was no atmosphere which
they could breathe. They have subsequently come into exist
ence. Whence came they ? I choose to put the question in this,
its simplest, form, in order not to perplex you with any further
discussion, here unnecessary, of the law of causality. It is not
enough to say, that you cannot believe, you cannot even imag
ine, that this earth, once without one germ of organic life in its
vast bosom, suddenly became tenanted with countless forms of liv
ing beings, without some foreign and adequate cause. Give the
largest significance you may to what are called the laws of na
ture ; confound, if you will, physical with efficient causes ; say
that the birth of an individual in the race is but the mechanical
effect of the powers inherent in the organism of the parent ;
still the beginning of that race, the beginning of all races, goes
utterly beyond the laws of nature, and obliges you to look up to
nature s God.
The laws of nature do not account for the introduction of a
new species. The skeptic s first principle is, that we must not
admit any laws of nature, or modes of action, but those which we
now actually perceive going on around us ; we must not invent
causes to account for certain phenomena, until we are fully satis
fied that the known and familiar agencies of nature are insuffi
cient to that end. I take him at his word. The physical laws
which are now exposed to the observation of mankind will not
12*
138 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
explain the introduction of a new species, a new race, among
those formerly in being, and certainly not the beginning of life
itself in a world till then inanimate. If you say that the lower
forms of life may be spontaneously generated from the dust,*
or that higher types of being may be evolved from those next
below them in the scale, without the exertion of any new power,
you assert what the most careful observation, the minute and
long continued researches of science, have failed to verify.
Permanence of type is one of the most firmly established of those
very laws of nature to which you ascribe inherent power, and
which you claim to be immutable. It is the grossest incon-
* All the races of animated beings, which are entirely within the range
of onr powers of observation, which have such a size and locality that
we can study and accurately determine their organization and habits,
are unquestionably produced from parents of their own kind. Only the
minute microscopic animals are now supposed to be generated spontane
ously ; and this alleged fact rests not on direct proof, but only on our in
ability in certain cases to trace the process of their production in the ordi
nary way. As many of these animals, in their perfect state, are not more
than the twelve thousandth part of an inch in diameter, it is not much to
be wondered at, that we should not be able in all cases to discover their
ova, or to follow these ova through all their stages of development into the
complete being. It is further remarkable, that these animalcules, when
once produced, whether by spontaneous or natural generation, are all found
to be provided with the organs or requisite means for continuing their
species, and, in fact, for multiplying their number from themselves with
astonishing rapidity. As they certainly have children, it seems reasonable
to suppose, according to the analogy of all the higher animated tribes, that
they also had parents. The ancients supposed, that the worms and insects
which appear in decaying organic matter were generated there by the de
composition of the substance, without the previous agency of individuals
of the same stock. Every schoolboy is acquainted with Virgil s mode of
obtaining a new swarm of bees from the decaying carcass of a heifer
Subsequent researches, made with more care, and perhaps, with better in
struments of observation, have entirely disproved the hypothesis, and show
that the maggots were produced in every case from eggs deposited by flies
or other insects, and were afterwards themselves developed into the state
of perfect insects. Then it seems reasonable to believe, that the improved
observations of future times will clear up the only remaining difficulty,
and show how the infusory animalcules also are generated from beings of
their own kind.
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 139
sistency on your part to attempt to set aside, in this single case,
those very principles, on the assumed unchangeableness, the
inherent power, and infinite duration of which, your whole theory
depends. In that ordinary course of nature, to which you would
fain reduce all phenomena, so that all may seem to be mere
continuance, and nowhere may appear a beginning of existence,
so as to avoid any necessity for the interposition of any new
cause or foreign power, in this ordinary course of nature, I
say, quadrupeds are not born from birds, nor birds from reptiles,
nor reptiles from fishes, nor fishes from invertebrate animals ; *
* The point chiefly relied upon to show the credibility of this doctrine
here alluded to is the fact, that the higher animals, in their embryotic ex
istence, pass through a series of changes resembling the permanent forms
of the lower tribes. The first form of man himself resembles that which is
permanent in the animalcule ; and thence he comes to resemble succes
sively a fish, a reptile, a bird, and the lower marnmifers, before he attains
his specific maturity. It is held, then, that a premature birth from an ani
mal of a higher kind might have instituted a new race of a lower type ;
and that a birth unusually delayed, permitting an embryo to be still further
advanced in the line of organization, might have created a new species of
a higher order than the parent. Here, every thing depends on the absolute
identity of die germs of all animals, in the lower stages of their growth.
General resemblances and analogies are of no weight whatever ; the essen
tial internal organization of the ova of different species must be the same ;
otherwise, however ripened into a mature being, whether the birth be ad
vanced or postponed, the individual must still belong to its parents spe
cies, of which it possesses the distinctive peculiarity. Now, this point of
the identity of germs is <t mere assumption ; not only is it destitute of proof,
the whole evidence is against it. There is a degree of outward resem
blance, but there is no sameness. When we trace the origin of life back
to the remotest point to which our powers of observation extend, when we
come to microscopic vesicles that can be discerned only by the highest
magnifiers, general similarity of outward shape is all that can be predi
cated of them. The specific differences lie below this general resemblance
of outward, form ; we cannot discern them, but we know that they must
exist, and that they are essential differences ; for each one of these vesicles
is invariably developed, if at all, into an individual of the species to which
its parent belongs. The germinal vesicles of a tree and a quadruped are
somewhat alike, outwardly ; so, to the hen s eyes, there is no difference
between her own eggs and the duck s eggs which the farmer s wife has put
into her nest. But when she has hatched her brood, part of them are
140 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
but each of these races continues itself by producing young after
its own kind. It is not pretended that there is any known in
stance of the transmutation of species, or of the evolution, in the
ordinary way, of any being specifically different from its parents.
The same animal, indeed, may pass through different grades of
development ; but these changes affect only the individual, not
the race. The progeny of this animal must begin at the same
point where its parent did, and run precisely the same cycle,
The tadpole becomes a frog, but the young of that frog are tad
poles ; the worm becomes a winged insect, but the eggs of that
insect are hatched into nothing but worms. These changes in
the life of the individual, like the successive periods of the em-
bryotic state, of infancy, and of manhood in the human being,
are perfectly consistent with persistence of type in the race, and
do not indicate even the possibility that a new species may be
developed out of an old one. On the contrary, the germ must
be considered as potentially equivalent to the whole future being,
for it is invariably developed into that being. If there be any
one fact unquestionably established by observation, it is, that
each species invariably produces its like. "All the phenomena, *
says Miiller, one of the first physiologists of the day, " all the
phenomena at present observed in the animal kingdom seem to
prove, that the species were originally created distinct, and in
dependent of each other. There is no remote possibility of one
species being produced from another."
Result of this branch of the argument. Here, then, we rest
the first and lowest branch of the argument a posteriori, con
sidering it as an established fact in physical science, that organ-
ization and life on this earth did begin to be, within a definite
period of time, and that none of the physical causes now in opera-
found to be webfooted, and these, to her great astonishment and distress,
immediately take to the water. Those who uphold this theory commit the
same blunder as the poor hen. This want of consciousness that they have
got to the end of their tether, this inability to believe that any difference
can exist where they are not able to see it, though it is invariably indi
cated by future consequent differences of the most striking nature > is per
fectly characteristic of the rash theorist in science.
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 141
tion is adequate to account for that beginning. We are led, then,
irresistibly up to the agency of a First Cause, a power not in
herent in nature, but in one sense external to it and acting upon
it, and which, for the reason already stated, must have existed
from everlasting.
I have called this the lowest branch of the argument, because,
though the conclusion seems to me to be legitimate, and even
unavoidable, it does not fully answer our desires, nor satisfy the
aspirations of the religious sentiment in man. To prove the
being of a Creator only from an act of creation assumed to have
been completed long ago, if a useful, is still a frigid, result of
the inquiry. It seems too much like establishing some remote
fact in history, which ceased long since to have any immediate
interest, as its direct consequences are no longer traceable. We
seek to bring the argument and the doctrine home by proofs of
the repeated, if not the continuous,--agency of Omnipotence, so
that what is almost the abstract conception of a First Cause
may be changed into a well-grounded faith in the existence of
an infinite and ever-watchful Father.
The work of creation frequently renewed and extended. One
step, and an important one. towards this conclusion, we are able
immediately to take. The work of creation was not a single
act, begun and ended by a solitary exertion of power ; it was
often renewed, and it extended over a lapse of ages which the
imagination vainly strives to comprehend. Science has discov
ered an ineffaceable and undoubted record of a multitude of
cases, in which preceding laws of nature, that had been unbroken
for ages, were interrupted by special exertions of a foreign
power. Mighty revolutions have often swept the face of this
planet, hurrying nearly all former orders of life into ruin ; and
each time, the desert was peopled anew with animated tribes
wholly unlike their predecessors. Geology is but the history,
chronicled in stone, of many miracles performed before man was,
and extending far back into a past eternity. There is not an
animal or a plant on this earth, which, as a race, is not older
than man. Science does not contradict, it rather confirms, that
voice of revelation or tradition which assigns about six thousand
142 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE.
years as the period of man s residence upon the earth. One of
the latest events in the geological history of the world, we are
told, was a great submersion of the land, by which " terrestrial
animal life was extensively, if not universally, destroyed ; " so
that the creation of the species now in being at least, all the
higher species was " a comparatively recent event, and one
posterior generally speaking, to all the great natural transac
tions chronicled by geology." From this " recent event," back
certainly as far as the time when those races began to be, the
remains of which are now found entombed in the lowest Silurian
rocks, the period of creation extends, a drama of many acts
and countless shifting scenes, each one of which leads us up to a
knowledge of its Infinite Author.
In truth, the assumed invariableness of the laws of nature,
considering these only as the necessary manifestations of pow
ers inherent in the substances themselves, is a doctrine which
loses all meaning, as well as probability, when we look to the
annals of the universe for guidance, and not merely to the story
of one life, or even of one order of being. The history of God s
providence is not the story of a day, nor can it be interpreted
by the experience of an hour. We must decipher even the
record, inscribed on the rocks, of the mutations which this solid
globe has undergone, in the vast series of ages that elapsed before
it was peopled with beings like ourselves. If we would climb to
the heights of this great argument, our view must be expanded
in feeble imitation of His vision with whom a thousand years
are but as one day. Perhaps it will be found, that these sup
posed breaks in the continuity of the inferior laws of nature are
but the intercalations of a higher law, working for a nobler end ;
that what appear as special exertions of Divine agency, are but
the ordinary mode in which infinite wisdom works and governs ;
that the physical is subordinate throughout to the moral uni
verse ; and that what man calls interruptions of the usual course
of nature, are precisely what he might most reasonably and
naturally expect from omnipotence and infinite benevolence
combined.
Parallel between human and Divine action. The action of
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 143
a human being, though generally inconstant and wavering,
from his unsettled will, so that the future cannot be predicted
from the past, is also often directed through long periods by a
fixed purpose, and rendered uniform through the facility ac
quired by habit ; so that, if it were watched by a being of a
different race, ignorant of the human constitution, and very
limited in his period of observation, it would appear mechanical,
and, like the regular working of a machine, to be attributable
only to an impulse given to it at the commencement, and not
afterwards renewed. If, however, the observation were con
tinued for a longer time, or if a record could be found of the
man s whole history, the changes of action induced by altered
circumstances, or a fluctuating purpose, would be manifest.
Geology is such a record of the history of the universe, showing
those breaks in the succession of events, which prove the fre
quent interposition of directing will and sustaining power ; each
of them being an insoluble problem, unless we admit that such a
will exists. If it be objected to the probability of such interrup
tions, that it is inconsistent with the attribute of Divine wisdom
to suppose that the Deity ever changes his plan, or alters his
purpose, I answer, jfirst, he who declares that infinite wisdom
necessarily dictates invariability of action, also assumes that he
possesses infinite wisdom himself ; and secondly, a change in the
mode of action does not necessarily imply a change of purpose.
The emergency may have been foreseen, the extraordinary ac
tion by which it was to be met may have been predetermined,
from the foundation of the world. At any rate, this considera
tion is one with which, for our present object, the proof only of
the being of a God, we have nothing to do. The facts are un
questionable ; that such interruptions have taken place, whether
they argue a change of the Divine purpose or not, cannot be
denied. Huge strata of earthbound rock, the solid framework
of the globe itself, in characters which the school-boy now may
read, testify to the unceasing guardianship, the frequent inter
vention to repair, renew, and improve, of Him who created the
heavens and the earth, and laid the corner-stone thereof. The
world was never an orphan, never left to the dominion of chance,
144 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE,
or what is little better to the blind and unbroken operation
of what are called natural laws. A Father s care watched over
it, a Father s hand peopled it again and again with tribes of
living things, not by inflexible ordinances, nor by vicarious
government through secondary means, but even as an earthly
parent careth for his children.
The argument applied to the beginning of man s existence.
But we may go much further, and find sufficient proof of far
more frequent intervention of Divine power in the affairs of the
universe than that which is confirmed by geological evidence.
Admitting, for a moment, the general principle, which I regard
as wholly indefensible and unphilosophical, that in the material
universe, the argument from the effect to the cause finds place
only at the beginning of a succession of beings, and not at any
one link in that succession, in the world of mind we have
irrefragable evidence, at every step, which leads us up from the
created directly to the Creator. This evidence appears in the
essential unity of personality, in that recognition of the indivisible
self in consciousness, on which so much stress has already been
laid. Each person can say of himself, "/ have a separate and
indivisible existence." We may borrow again the language of
Fichte, as it is the unwilling concession of an opponent: "I
have not corne into existence by my own power. It would be
the highest absurdity to suppose, that before I was at all, I
could bring myself into existence : I have, then, been called into
being by a power out of myself."
Starting from this admission, we say that the theory which
Fichte adopts, and which we are here taking for granted in
respect to the world of matter, which refers the beginning of
an individual s existence to the first creation of the race to which
he belongs, which considers intelligent life as continuous through
a succession of beings, one springing out of another, and then
giving birth to a third, by virtue of principles infused or ma
chinery contrived in the race, when the original progenitor of it
was formed, this theory, we say, will not hold in the present
case. It may account for the origin of the material framework,
the habitation of clay, in which I live ; but it will not account
REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 145
for the origin of me. It is contradicted by the great fact of my
existence as an indivisible unit. Complexity of parts, accord
ing to the materialist s hypothesis, is essential to the propagation
of existence. The seed exists in the fruit ; the germ exists in
the seed. It is afterwards taken from the fruit and the seed,
and begins to exist as a distinct plant. But this is the com
mencement of its separate, not of its total being. It existed be
fore ; it was in the parent plant, as a part of it ; and its birth
was not a creation, but a division of existence. The beginning
of any material life, a tree, a flower, an animal, is not the crea
tion of any thing new, says the materialist, but the development
of a germ which existed ages before, which has lived ever
since the world was. But the beginning of intellectual life, the
essential unity of which is attested by consciousness, cannot be ex
plained by mere separation. It cannot give birth to another by
division of itself. In fine, the materialist affirms, that birth is
but a separation, and growth but an accretion and assimilation,
of parts that previously existed, though in an inorganic state ;
for it is a necessary part of this hypothesis, that the number of
primary particles in the universe is neither more nor less than
it was at the creation. Meeting him on his own ground, we
reply, that his own personal existence is certain proof, that at
least one unit has been added to the mass of being since the
formation of the universe. Of course, we have every reason
from analogy to believe, that the beginning of life in all cases,
even animal and vegetable, is the addition of a unit to the sum
of being, and therefore a direct act of creation, as much so as the
building of a world or a system. But only in intellectual life
have we positive evidence of this fact from consciousness.
13
146 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
CHAPTER VII.
ALL EVENTS IN THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE A PROOF OF THE
PRESENCE AND THE AGENCY OF GOD.
Summary of the last chapter. After completing, in the last
chapter, a very brief exposition of the freedom of the will, the
subject of the common argument a posteriori to prove the being
of a God was taken up with a view, not so much to restate it,
or to enter into its details, as to determine its logical character,
and to consider its claims as a just and philosophical specimen
of reasoning. Having shown, on a former occasion, that the
doctrines of theology related to matters of fact, I endeavored to
prove that the evidence in their favor was such as might be
expected in physical science, that it was to be gathered from
observation and experience. The other sciences are to be laid
under contribution for this end ; geology, in particular, consid
ered as a record of the antecedent history of this earth, might
be expected to furnish proofs of the agency of that Being by
whom this earth, with all that it inhabit, was created and sus
tained.
Taking the first, and certainly the more abstract, branch of the
argument, that which infers the reality of a cause simply from
the presence of the effect, without regard to the peculiarities of
that effect, I attempted to show, even from the most recently
and best established facts in geology and zoology, that events
had taken place, or things had begun to exist, which the ordi
nary laws of nature, as they are called, cannot account for, and
which, consequently, must be referred to the agency of the
great First Cause. If you reject this inference, you must deny,
either that organization and life on this earth did begin to be,
that is, you must reject many of the best accredited conclusions
of modern science, on which, indeed, some entire sciences ex
clusively depend ; or you must assert, that an event can take
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 147
place without a cause, and thus contradict what is either an
intuitive axiom, or a principle founded on the largest induction
of which the human mind is capable. The metaphysical reason
ing of Clarke on this subject was shown to be unsatisfactory,
chiefly on the ground that it is metaphysical; and therefore
the conclusion, which is a fact, cannot be inferred from the
premises, so far as these are mere abstractions, without really
begging the question. It was further proved, that creation was
not a solitary act, begun and completed long ago, but rather
that it consisted of numberless acts, extending over vast periods
of time ; and thus that it afforded not merely increased proofs
of the Divine existence, but satisfactory evidence, also, of the
renewed and repeated, if not the continuous, exertion of Divine
power. This last conclusion was strengthened and brought
still nearer home through the testimony of consciousness, that
person, or self, is indivisible, and therefore immaterial ; and
thus, that the creation of every human soul cannot be accounted
for, except as the direct act of Omnipotence.
All events in the material universe evince the being of a God,
It is but a short step, then, to take in the extension of this
argument, to say, that all events whatever in the material uni
verse, except those which are caused directly by human will and
power, are in truth the doings of the Infinite One. Hitherto,
this doctrine of immediate Divine agency has been considered
only in its place with other theories of causation, as the most
plausible, if not the only possible, explanation of the phenom
ena of nature. We are now to consider whether the evidence
on which it rests is not so strong, that it may well be classed
with other proofs of the being of a God, and in one respect,
indeed, be viewed as more satisfactory than any other, as it is
the only one from which we infer directly his present existence.
The argument, both from creation and design, proves imme
diately that he was ; here we find direct evidence that he is.
The phenomena of nature, so far as they show action or change,
from the breaking of a bubble on the stream, up to the swift
flight of the celestial orbs in their appointed paths, do not
merely prove, but directly manifest, his existence and his glory.
148 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
Let me not be understood as depreciating the value of the other
proofs, in order to rest the whole weight of the argument here.
I mention the distinction only to characterize more definitely
the nature of this mode of reasoning, and not to lessen the
cogency of the other forms of proof.
How we recognize God in nature. We recognize the pres
ence of God in nature in precisely the same manner in which
we come to know that any intelligent, though finite, being exists
besides ourselves. The outward form surely is nothing ; a
statue or an automaton may be moulded into a perfect external
likeness of a man. But the actions of the living man show
that he is animated by a spirit kindred to our own, by some
thing distinct from the mere framework of bones and muscles
which he inhabits, and which we distinguish as clearly from the
person within as we do our own bodies from ourselves. / am
conscious of power dependent on my will, and I perceive the
effects produced on matter by the exertion of that will ; I per
ceive, also, perfectly similar eiFects, which I can attribute only
to my brother man, and I infer, therefore, that he exists, and
that his will is equally active in producing those effects. I do
not imagine that his limbs move themselves, but that he moves
them ; I do not think that his eye turns towards me of its own
accord with a glance of affection, or that his hand comes to
meet mine in a friendly grasp from an energy that is inherent
in that hand alone. In like manner, then, I say, if His sun
rolls over my head and warms me, if His wind cools and re
freshes me, if His voice speaks to me, whether in the thunder
at midnight, or in the whispers of the forest, or but in the rust
ling of a leaf, if His seasons still come round to me in their
grateful vicissitude, and wherever I look in outward nature, 1
behold constant action, change, and joy, I do not suppose that
brute and senseless matter causes all this by its inherent power,
whether original or derived, but that the spirit, the Person
within, controls, vivifies, and produces all.
" These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee.
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 149
But wandering oft, with brute, unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres."
Do not say, that this is mere poetical enthusiasm, or devo
tion, but not truth ; it is the highest form of poetry, precisely
because it is the literal truth. It is a conclusion founded on
the most accurate researches of science, no less than on the
instinctive promptings of our human nature, and on the aspi
rations of the religious sentiment within us ; it is alike the doc
trine of the intelligent mind and the dictate of the upright
heart. We know not of any direct agency, we find no proof
of any active power, but that which is the attribute of person
ality, which is directed by will, and witnessed by consciousness.
External nature, when questioned as to the reality of power
originating in itself, or inherited in its own right, hears not and
answers not ; no efficient cause, that is, no cause at all, in the
proper signification of the word, has ever been discovered in it.
"Whence come, then, its countless changes, its incessant activity
and life ? It is no answer to this question to say, that events
constantly succeed each other in regular sequence, or even to
give a name to that order, and call it law, or physical cause.
You cannot believe, you cannot even imagine, that any one of
these events takes place without a real cause, an efficient energy,
without which it were not. If matter be considered entirely
apart from mind, it is dead, formless, and motionless ; no winds
agitate the surface of a chaotic ocean, no tides heave its
waters, no waves break upon its silent shores. No eye can
penetrate
" The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark
Illimitable ocean, without bound,
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height,
And time and place, are lost ; where eldest Night
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal empire In this wild abyss,
The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave,
Is neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed
Confus dly."
13*
150 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
Milton s conception of inorganic matter left to itself, without
an indwelling soul, is not merely more pSetical, but more philo
sophical and just, than the scientific romance, now generally
repudiated by all rational inquirers, which represents it as nec
essarily imbued with the seminal principles of organization and
life, and waking up by its own force from eternal quietude to
eternal motion.
But I need not here renew the argument, already considered
at sufficient length for our purposes, in favor of attributing all
the active phenomena of nature directly to the omnipresence and
omnipotence of God. A few considerations, which tend rather
to illustrate than to prove the doctrine, and to account for the
general reception of the popular fallacy which ascribes efficient
causation to matter, will close the review of this branch of the
subject
This reasoning applied to the phenomena of gravitation. Of
all the classes into which the motions and changes of material
objects are divided, with reference to their general similarity,
and hence to a supposed unity of cause, the most comprehen
sive and important are those of gravitation and of life*) the
latter term being understood, as in the vegetable kingdom, to
signify merely the law of formation and growth, without sup
posing that any inherent principle exists in the plant distinct
from its organic arrangement. As to the former class, the fact
that all particles of matter constantly tend towards each other is
the great conservative or sustaining principle of the mate
rial universe. Though often suspended or overbalanced by a
stronger agency, as in all cases of life, the instances of it falling
under our immediate observation are still so numerous, that we
suppose there is no mystery in it. A weight that is no longer
supported falls to the ground ; and this phenomenon, from the
frequency of its occurrence, excites no wonder. If it ever oc
curs to us to ask after its cause, we are contented with the
answer, that it is probably the same cause which makes other
weights fall under similar circumstances, though this certainly
is no answer at all to the main question. That this gravity, or
tendency to fall, is no primary quality of the substance itself,
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. * 151
necessarily entering into our conception of it, as its extension
does, is evident enough from the fact, that before any observa
tion or experience of motion from gravitation, we should no
more expect the body to fall downwards than upwards, like a
balloon, or side wise, like a bird. The vicinity of the body to
the earth is now known not to be the characteristic feature of
the phenomenon, as gravity is found to be the law of the mate
rial universe.
Consider, then, one of the great orbs which hang suspended
in void space, isolated by millions of miles in every direction
from other objects, and in reference to the motion of which,
therefore, the words upwards and downwards hardly seem to
have any meaning. Why should this body fall towards another
orb which is more than ninety millions of miles off, in prefef-
ence to moving in any other direction ? You will doubtless say,
that it is the attraction of the sun, which draws it. But exam
ine carefully, I pray you, whether this answer be in truth the
assignment of a cause, or merely another expression, an expres
sion in different words, of the fact that the body does tend to
move towards the sun, which is the phenomenon itself that we
seek to account for. No axiom seems more self-evident than
the old adage, that nothing can act but where it is ; or if you
hesitate to accept this maxim in all its generality, you will
surely admit that brute matter a collection of extended, im
penetrable, and insensate particles cannot act where it is not.
It is a sufficiently violent hypothesis, to imagine that it can
really act at all, or have any real force even within its own
limits. But that it can exert any influence beyond these limits,
is demonstrably absurd ; for action is a state of being, and that
a body should act where it is not, is therefore equivalent to say
ing that it is possible for the same thing to be and not to be at the
same moment, which is a contradiction. How, then, can the
sun act upon a body which is eighteen hundred millions of
miles off, which is the distance of Uranus, to say nothing of the
newly discovered planet, which is nearly twice as far, this im
mense intervening space being entirely void ? I say, then, the
supposition, that the sun, or any other material substance,
152 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
really acts on another body, at a distance from it, is not merely
extravagant, it is inconceivable ; and as the point of greater or
less distance is really of no importance, except to aid us in con
ceiving the question distinctly, the falling of a stone to the
ground, either by its own inherent power, or by that of the
earth, is equally inconceivable.
But along with gravity, another property is attributed to
brute matter ; namely, that when once set in motion, it tends to
move onwards in a straight line, with a uniform velocity, for
ever. The hypothesis here is of the same character, and quite
as extravagant, as in the former case ; but no matter ; let us,
for the present, take it for granted. The planets, and ah 1 the
other heavenly bodies, do not more in straight lines, but in
curves ; and the mathematician will therefore tell you, that at
every instant they are deflected, or turned aside from their
proper course, by some agency foreign to themselves, which
operates on them uniformly, with a constant force, tending
towards a fixed point, thus keeping them within their appointed
bounds. What is this agency ? Or rather, whose is it, but His
" who spake the word, and they were made ? who commanded,
and they were created ? who hath made them fast for ever and
for ever, and hath given them a law which shall not be bro
ken?"
The purpose of the astronomer s calculations. This view
does not conflict with a just conception of the manner in which
mathematical reasoning is applied to matters of fact, but tends
rather to elucidate and confirm it. The real object of the
astronomer s calculations is to express the law, that is, the uni
formity, of the motions of the heavenly bodies, with little regard
to any theory as to the origin or cause of those motions. The
motion alone is mensurable, depending on the relations of space
and time ; and therefore it alone is calculable ; the cause of it
cannot be measured, for it cannot even be perceived. The math
ematician, indeed, for the sake of clearness, begins with certain
arbitrary hypotheses as to the origin and nature of the phenom
ena ; but his calculations do not rest upon the truth in fact of
those hypotheses, but only on the phenomena themselves, which
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 153
he supposes to result from them. These hypotheses are not the
actual structure, the foundations and walls, of his building, but
the temporary scaffolding by the aid of which he erects those
walls. They form the theory which enables him to express in
mathematical language the facts or actual phenomena, to
recur to the preceding metaphor, the separate stones of which
the walls are composed ; and there may be several theories,
directly conflicting with each other, which will answer this pur
pose equally well.
Thus, nearly all the phenomena of light are equally explicable
on the theory either of emission or of undulation ; from which
ever of these two hypotheses the mathematician starts, the re
sults of his calculations agree equally well with the observed
phenomena ; and yet, be it observed, the two hypotheses differ
fundamentally, radically, from each other; they are contradic
tory. But as they are used only for a temporary purpose, just
like the abstractions and postulates which constitute the first
principles of pure mathematical science itself, the correctness of
the result in nowise depends on their reality, their truth or
falsity. They are mere scaffolding. Hence it was, that, until
some crucial experiments were recently devised, which really
determined that the undulatory theory was more satisfactory, or
came nearer to the truth, than that of emissions, it was actually
proposed as one reason for preferring this hypothesis to its rival,
that it was more convenient for calculation ; it was a handier
tool to work with.
What are forces in physical science. We now see the rea
son why there is so much talk about various forces in physical
science, especially in mechanics, when the mathematician seeks
to express the facts in his own language. An objector to my
argument might ask, How is it that you say there is no real
power or force discoverable in the material universe as such,
when a Laplace or a Bowditch, who deals with the most rigor
ous and accurate of all sciences, is constantly speaking of a
great number of forces, and clearly distinguishes them from
each other, and measures with the nicety of a hair s breadth
their respective results ? I answer, what the physical inquirer
154 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
calls force, is merely a mathematical expression for the law. or
order, with which certain observed results of a supposed force
succeed each other. The calculation actually represents those
phenomena, their time, character, and sequence, and nothing
else ; as is seen at the close of the process, when the calculated
results are tested by comparison with the last-observed phe
nomena. The calculator, in the midst of the process, often
supposes several forces, recognized by him at the time to be
fictitious or imaginary, for the mere purpose of facilitating his
labor.* A body moving along the diagonal of a parallelogram
* Newton s theory is not an empirical law, but a hypothetical one. He
docs not say, that an attractive force between the particles of matter ac-
aially exists, but only that all bodies move or rest as if such & force existed.
In respect to the solar system, it would be an equally correct statement of
his doctrine to say, that the motions of the planets relative to the sun and
each other, and of all satellites relative to their primaries, are such as
if these bodies were bound to each other by elastic material ties, the strength
of which varies directly as the masses of the bodies which they connect, and
inversely as the squares of their own length. Newton no more believed in
the actual existence of an attractive force, than in the actual existence of
such elastic bands.
I have already shown, that mathematical science can oft er no proof what
ever of a physical fact ; it can prove nothing but abstract propositions.
When applied in the Mixed Sciences, it simply enables us to make a more
strict and exact comparison, than would otherwise be possible, of the re
sults of theory with the facts of nature. The only test of any hypothesis
respecting the relations of certain phenomena to each other, is observation
and experiment ; and a competent knowledge of mathematics will enable
us to apply this test with the utmost precision. With it, we can calculate,
to a hair s breadth, the necessary results according to theory ; and then,
with the immense improvements of modern times in the instruments of
observation, we can determine with equal accuracy the character and lim
its of the phenomenon. The astronomer, in his observatory, can deter
mine the time at which the occupation did take place, within the tenth
part of a second ; and the mathematician, in the room below, can fix the
time when, according to theory, it ought to take place, within the hundredth
part of a second. The nice coincidence thus made out affects us with
wonder, and seems to common minds a mathematical, and therefore in
controvertible, proof of the truth of the theory. But the coincidence itself
can be made out, in a rough way, with the naked eye as the only means
of observation, and by a train of reasoning from the theory so consequent
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 155
is really propelled by a single force, as when moving over any
other straight line ; but it is often convenient to suppose it im
pelled at the same instant by two forces, corresponding in direc
tion and intensity to two adjacent sides of the figure.
The Ptolemaic system of astronomy. My next illustration,
being taken from astronomy, comes more nearly home to our
leading subject. It is hardly possible to conceive of two theo
ries of the motions of the heavenly bodies, which should differ
from each other more widely than do those of Hipparchus and
Copernicus. The complex and intricate system of the former
has become, though unjustly, the derision of modern science ;
Milton ridiculed it long ago, in the counsel which he makes
Raphael give to Adam, not to seek too eagerly to pry into those
secrets of the heavens which " the great Architect did wisely to
conceal : "
" He his fabric of the heavens
Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide
Hereafter, when they come to model heaven,
And calculate the stars ; how they will wield
The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive,
To save appearances ; how gird the sphere
With centric and eccentric scribbled o er,
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb."
The same complex system, when explained to Alphonso, king
of Castile, gave rise to his noted remark, " that if God had con
sulted him at the creation, the universe should have been on a
better and simpler plan." Now the truth is, that this compli
cated and fantastic theory of the heavens, with its operose con
trivances of eccentric wheels, and circles riding upon circles,
and which, in point of fact, is false from beginning to end, is
and direct, that a mind of great analytical power could follow it without
the use of one mathematical symbol. And the coincidence itself, whether
roughly or nicely determined, aifords just as much proof of the theory, as
would be gained in favor of anv hypothesis as to the manner in which my
neighbor s house caught fire, Tty showing, experimentally, that my own
house might be so fired under precisely similar circumstances.
156 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
just as correct a basis for astronomical calculations as the
simpler, more beautiful, and more truthful system of Coperni
cus. The language of Mr. Whewell, whose authority on a
point like this no one will dispute, is, "Asa system of calcula
tion, [it] is not only good, but in many cases no better has yet
been discovered." The Hipparchian or Ptolemaic theory repre
sents the apparent motions of the heavenly bodies as actual
motions ; the Copernican deduces these apparent motions from
a totally different system of revolutions, which it considers as
the real one. Both systems are true or correct in this, that
they represent those apparent motions rightly ; and this is all that
is needed for the mathematician s purposes, all that the calcu
lator wants in order to predict what will be the aspect of the
heavens, or the exact position of a particular body, at some
future time.
Astronomical theories are mere geometrical conceptions.
The office of theory, then, in physical science, is not to explain
the cause or the origin of phenomena, but simply to represent
with precision the phenomena themselves, and the order in
which they succeed each other. In order to do this with clear
ness and simplicity, the theorist feigns certain causes, operating
in an imaginary way, and thus gives unity to the phenomena by
" making believe " that they all proceed from one source, the
internal constitution of which is such that it can produce just
these phenomena as they have been observed, and no other.
Ptolemy had a correct notion of the Hipparchian theory in this
respect ; for although his predecessors and many of his disciples
taught that the celestial spheres were real solid bodies, " they
are spoken of by him as imaginary ; and it is clear," says Mr.
Whewell, " from his proof of the identity of the results of the
hypothesis of an eccentric and an epicycle, that they are in
tended to pass for no more than geometrical conceptions, in
which view they are true representations of the apparent mo
tions." Now the several forces, by which, in the language of
modern mathematicians, the heavenly bodies are represented as
moved and directed, are just sucfollP geometrical conceptions "
as those of an eccentric and epicycle ; rightly speaking, they are
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY. 157
not even conceived to be realities, but only convenient fictions,
just like the great circles, the equator, the ecliptic, the merid
ians, etc., which not even the school-boy supposes to be real
and material arches over and around our universe. Newton
found that the elliptical motions of the planets could not be
mathematically represented by the hypothesis of one mechanical
force, operating on them constantly and uniformly ; and so he
imagined two forces, one being that of gravitation, which tends
constantly towards the sun, and another by which they tend to
fly off at a tangent from their orbits; or the latter may be
considered rather as the result of the primitive projectile force,
with which the planets were originally launched in space. From
these convenient fictions, he found he could deduce mathemati
cally their true motions. It is possible, though certainly not
probable, that some mathematical theory will hereafter be in
vented, which will account for the motions of the system on the
hypothesis of a single force ; if so, it will immediately take the
place of the present theory, on account, not of its superior
truth, but of its greater simplicity.*
Gravity is only a hypothetical force. What shall we say,
then, of a hypothetical history of the universe, which pretends
to explain both the genesis and the progress of all material
worlds by the aid only of this imaginary force, this mathemati
cal fiction ? What but this, that it affords a striking proof of
the manner in which language reacts on the ideas or opinions
that it is intended to express, and thus leads men to talk non-
* I am able to quote the admission of M. Comte himself, a mathe
matician who will not be accused of any religious tendencies, that this
remark is well founded. " In my dread of our resting in notions of any
thing absolute, I would venture to say, that I can conceive of such a thing
as even our theory of gravitation being hereafter superseded. I do not
think it probable ; and the fact will ever remain, that it answers com
pletely to our present needs. It sustains us, up to the last point of pre
cision that we can attain. If a future generation should reach a greater,
and feel, in consequence, a need to construct a new law of gravitation, it
will be as true as it now is, that the Newtonian theory is, in the midst of
inevitable variations, stable enough to give steadiness and confidence to
our understandings." Martineau s trans, of Comte s Phil. Vol. I. p. 184.
14
158 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEltt,
sense without knowing it ? To say that gravitation not only
accounts for the present motions of the heavenly bodies, but
that, oo an easily conceivable theory, it may be made tcx explain
the origin of these motions, and their several stages of progress,
o to speak, to their present state or law y is the same thing as
to say, that I can frame a hypothetical history of an imaginary
universe, all the phenomena of which, and all the supposed
changes in the law, or mode of succession, of those phenomena^
can be calculated on the same mathematical principles j that is,
by the aid of the same postulates,, abstractions, and fictions,
through which the mathematician deduces by exact computation
the future positions of the real heavenly bodies from their past
states and revolutions ; or in other words,, that mathematical
science is a very general organon of calculation, which enables-
us to compute, not only the actual motions and changes of the
actual universe, but the imaginary states and changes of a great
number of fictitious, but easily conceivable worlds* This I con
ceive to be the exact meaning of Herschel s nebular hypothesis,,
and Laplace s theory of the genesis of our system by planets-
peeled off from th# sau* Yery different, and far more philo
sophical, was the view of gravitation which was taken by that
great mind which first conceived the theory, and verified it by
application, " That gravity," says Sir Isaac Newton, ""should
be innate y inherent, and essential to matter, so that one body
may act upon another at a distance through a vacuum, without
the mediation of any thing else, by and through which their
action and force may be conveyed from one to another, is to me
so great an absurdity, that I believe no man r who has in philo
sophical matters a competent faculty of thinking, can- ever faB
into it. Gravity must be caused by an agent acting constantly
according to certain laws"
Gravity is the basis of mechanical theories of the universe.
I have detained you too long, perhaps, with speculations respect
ing the true nature of the chief element in mechanical and
astronomical calculations. But the popular conception of grav
ity seems to me so wholly unlike the just and philosophical vie\*
of it, and the part assigned to it in atheistk schemes of co-
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 159
mogony is so prominent, and at the same time, when rightly
considered, so unintelligible, that it was worth while making
some attempt to rise to a clear comprehension of the subject.
If I have at all succeeded in this explanation, it is evident that,
in regard to efficient causation, or the great motive power of the
universe, the theory of gravitation, with all the calculations and
hypotheses that are founded on it, leaves us precisely where it
found us; it accounts for nothing, it explains the origin of
nothing ; it is a simple statement, in a form convenient for
scientific purposes, of the order and manner in which certain
phenomena recur, leaving us to find a cause for those phenom
ena where we may. The conclusion remains as before, that this
cause can be nothing but personal agency, which is to us the
only known source of power, the only QEdipus that can explain
the riddle of that great Sphinx, the universe. Yet the phe
nomena ranged under this class are so clearly distinguishable
from all others, they are so simple and so frequent in their
recurrence, that they suggest very forcibly the action of a
machine of man s device ; and for this reason, they have always
been the chief support of all mechanical theories of causation.
Yet a moment s reflection might satisfy us, that as in a machine,
though human ingenuity devised it, it is not human power which
keeps it in action, but rather (to use the common metaphor) the
powers of nature, such as the weight of falling water, the elas
ticity of steel, or the expansive action of steam, powers
which we economize, direct, and apply to use, but do not
create, so these powers of nature themselves are not the
source of the energy or true cause, but only the mode in which
it is applied.
Tendency of mechanical calculations. But as these phe
nomena suggest so strongly the action of a machine, they have
been the chief support of the doctrine, that active power is in
some way inherent in matter ; the theory of gravitation has been
the starting-point and the strong-hold for all mechanical theories
of the universe. If the often quoted remark, that " the undevout
astronomer is mad," be understood to mean only that astronomy
is better calculated than any other branch of physical science to
160 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
lead to correct views of the providence of God, I may be per
mitted to doubt its correctness. The vastness of the objects
contemplated, and the sublimity of the phenomena, tend forcibly,
it is true, to lead the partially instructed mind from the finite up
to the infinite ; but one who is conversant with the details of
the science is apt to be blinded by their simplicity and uniform
ity, to be elated by his seemingly entire knowledge of them,
and his power of predicting their recurrence, till he comes to
imagine, that vast and magnificent as creation is, it is but a
simple affair after all, that the theory of gravitation unlocks
the whole mystery of it, and places the secret, not only of the
continuance of the system, but of its origin and growth, com
pletely within the grasp of the human intellect. Newton was a
believer, as minds of the highest order always will be ; but
Laplace, a man of great talent rather than original genius, im
mersed all his life in mathematical calculations, and inordinately
vain of his success with them, doubted or denied ; and the very
title of his great work, the Mecanique Celeste, suggests the cause
of his doubts. He thought he had reduced nature to a vast
piece of mechanism, and that he could calculate to a fraction the
strength of all its parts, and the intensity and mode of action of
all its motive forces.* His accurate knowledge of the details of
* Since the passage in the text was written, Sir William Hamilton has
made a similar observation. In the last edition of his "Discussions," (page
310,) he says, "It has been poetically said, an undevout astronomer is
mad. This, however, if poetical, is not true. For if, as has been quaintly
but significantly expressed, Nature is a Hebi-ew word written with mere
consonants, to which philosophy must place the points/ certainly the mechan
ism of the heavens itself is not the grammar from which we can ever learn
to syllable the stars/ Historically, a larger proportion of astronomers
have been religious skeptics, in the last and worst degree, than any other
class even of mere physical observers."
He afterwards quotes, (page 312,) as an illustration, the following shal
low and impious remark from M. Comte, the most eminent infidel philos
opher among the mathematicians of the present day. " To those unfa
miliar with a study of the celestial bodies, Astronomy has still the character
of being a science preeminently religious; as if the famous text, The
Heavens declare the glory of God, retained its old significance. But to
minds familiar with true philosophical astronomy, the heavens declare no
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 161
astronomical science, in which the universe is considered only
as a great system of revolving orbs acting on each other, pre
vented him from taking comprehensive and philosophical views
of it as a whole.
Limited aims of astronomical science. One reflection alone
might have convinced him of the hollowness and vanity of his
pretensions. Astronomy is a very finished science only because
it is very limited in its objects. It contemplates nothing but
motions and positions. Of the physical constitution even of the
other bodies in our own solar system we are profoundly igno
rant ; we form a few faint guesses about the irregularities on the
surface of the moon, which is the nearest of them, and here we
stop. The stellar universe is to us only a grouping of points
of lighf, seen from an immeasurable distance, in which a few
slight changes of relative position have but recently been dis
covered. Of the external and internal economy of these orbs,
of the forms which organized matter there assumes, the modes
in which active energy develops itself, and the living races, if
any, which tenant them, we are so far from knowing any thing,
that we do not pretend even to study them. To explain the
action of the planets and stars themselves, merely as it is inves
tigated by the astronomer and the mathematician, that is, to
other glory than that of Hipparchus, of Kepler, of Newton, in a word,
of all those who have aided in establishing their laws."
To this poor sophistry, it is certainly competent for us to reply, as we
have done in another place, that the grandeur of astronomical science, after
all, depends far more on the sublimity and perfectness of the objects of
study, than on the ability and success with which they have been studied.
The wonder is, not so much that man should be able to foresee the return
of an eclipse, even to a second of time, as that the arrangement of the vast
system of worlds should be so perfect, and their mutual action and de
pendence so accurately balanced, that the two bodies should return from
their vast journey at the precise moment, and to the previously defined
point in the heavens. M. Comte would have us believe, that the ingenuity
of a person who should ascertain, after long study, that the movement of
the hands on the face of a clock correctly indicated the hour of the day,
was greater than that of the artisan who invented and constructed the in
strument.
14*
162 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
expound a theory of their relative motions and positions, is to
lay open but an infinitesimal part of the secrets of the celestial
universe, and this the simplest and most conceivable part. Our
idea of the mechanism of the heavens comes almost immeasura
bly short of the truth of things ; and hence our notion of efficient
cause, or active power, so far as it is derived only from this
mechanism, or applied only to an explanation of it, is imperfect
and vain. Notwithstanding the boasted triumphs of science in
this department, the philosophical observer, seeing how vastly
the subject still transcends the human intellect, instead of in
dulging the vanity of Laplace, will say rather, with the Psalmist
of old : " When I consider the heavens, the work of Thy
fingers, and the moon and stars which Thou hast ordained,
what is man that Thou art mindful of him, and the son \>f man
that Thou visitest him ? "
The same reasoning applied to the phenomena of life.
We gain a clearer idea of the limitation of our knowledge in
this respect, when we consider the second class of phenomena
to which I proposed to direct your attention, those, namely,
which are ascribed to life. Here, our observation is at once
restricted to this earth ; and the lessons which it teaches us, if
deeply pondered, seem even more profound and impressive than
those offered by the vast scale on which material attraction acts.
Gravitation is the simplest and most regular of all the modes in
which active power develops itself, while life is the -most com
plex and varied. The two classes of phenomena ranged under
these heads are thus taken from opposite ends of the scale ;
which is the reason why I have chosen them to illustrate the
true doctrine of causation, instead of the intermediate classes,
such as chemical affinity, and the imponderable agents, electricity,
heatj and magnetism. Whatever is established as to the nature
of the power exerted in these two classes, will very readily be
admitted of all the ranks and divisions which lie between them.
My present point is this, that if the simple, regular, and fre
quently recurrent phenomena of gravitation cannot be explained
on the hypothesis, that the universe is a machine, a clock that
was wound up at creation, and which never runs down, then,
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 163
for a still stronger reason, the myriad forms of life, the infinitely
diversified modes ia which creative and sustaining energy here
shows itself, are not mechanical, but personal and Divine. If
the hypothesis, that brute matter is necessarily endowed with a
native and inherent activity, is utterly insufficient to explain
even the simple fact, that all particles of that matter tend to
move towards each other, and that aggregations of those par
ticles into vast orbs uniformly circle round each other at im
mense distances with ceaseless motion, then, surely, the same
hypothesis will not account for the mystery of life, as shown by
the infinitely .diversified motions of the motes which people a
sunbeam, or of the animalcules which find an ocean in a drop
of water, or of the vegetative forms, whih cover the earth s
surface with beauty, and minister to the wants of man, from the
tiniest flower up to the grandeur and endurance of the firm-set
oak.
Life is not mechanism. The phenomena of life are not
mechanical ; the incessant motion, the countless changes, the
perpetual succession of birth, growth, decay, and dissolution,
which it exhibits, are events to be accounted for ; they are
effects, and the only sufficient, or even conceivable, cause to
which they can be assigned, is the immediate action of an ever-
present and omnipotent God. This is the argument, and you
will observe that it is entirely distinct from the reasoning from
design, or final cause- This second form of proof will come up
afterwards ; but for the present, I put it entirely aside. I do
not now argue from the peculiarities of certain effects, that they
must have been intended or purposed ; but from the fact that
there are effects, which must have a cause. I do not invite
you to <?*amine the artistic, the admirable internal structure of
some form of vegetable or animal life, as a proof that intelli
gence, foresiglit, and benevolence were exerted in producing it ;
but merely to remember that this individual structure did begin
to be ; .that its existence dates, perhaps, only from yesterday, or
from the last hour ; that there is a constant motion and change
among its constituent parts ; and these various beginnings and
movements must be attributed to some efficient cause, which
164 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
cannot be found in the mere insensate atoms of which the plant
or animal is made up, but must be sought for in spirit, or per
son, the only known source of power. That the plant began to
exist, and that it grows, are phenomena to be accounted for in
some way, just as much as the curious internal arrangement or
organization of that plant.
Among the forms of mere organic life, the birth, develop
ment, and subsequent changes of which are to be accounted for
by a cause out of themselves, I rank the material framework
of my own body, and those merely vital movements in it which
are not dependent on my own will, and which, consequently, as
has been already proved, are truly foreign to myself. Here,
then, we bring the only two kinds of efficient or personal power
with which we are acquainted, namely, the human and the
Divine, as it were, into close juxtaposition and virtual coopera
tion ; and thus the point of the argument appears more clearly.
The voluntary movement of my arm and hand I know to be
dependent on myself; I am conscious of willing the movement,
and am conscious of making an effort, or exerting my own
power, to that end. It is even inconceivable to me, that, within
the ordinary sphere of my action, they should move without my
agency, or, in other words, should move themselves. Then I
say, that the other motions in that arm and hand, which are not
voluntary, not mine, such as the circulation of the blood, the ex
cretions of the skin, the constant flux and change of all the
material particles in them, must also be attributed to a cause
out of themselves, to a personal agency not inherent in the
arm and hand. Even the skeptic will allow me to say, that the
hand does not move itself, but that I move it ; then it seems to
me the conclusion is inevitable, that the Uood does not move
itself, and that no physical cause, or mere organization, has any
thing to do with its motion, except that it is so constituted as not
to interfere with it ; but in this case, no less than in that of the
planets circling round the sun, the mover is Divine.
Why the phenomena of life appear mysterious. Of all the
mysteries with which we are surrounded, life is thought to be
the most inscrutable. The reason of this is, that it cannot even
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 165
be conceived of as mere mechanism ; it refuses to be subject to
the ordinary chemical affinities, to computation and law. There
is order and uniformity in its manifestations, but it is an order
of its own, and one which appears in the midst of infinite variety.
The motions of fluids under its influence refuse to submit to the
dynamic principles which govern the movements of inorganic
substances ; the processes which are carried on within its sphere
cannot be imitated by the subtlest refinements of chemistry.
Endeavor to measure and calculate its action by the aid of
what are considered as known laws, and a residuum is always
left, which must be attributed to a vital force, a wholly peculiar
physical cause, of which we know nothing. In the functions of
the living body, it may be, that the ordinary laws of chemistry
are preserved, and that the elements of carbon, oxygen, hydro
gen, and nitrogen combine and separate according to their
ordinary affinities, and in no unusual proportions ; though this
point does not seem to be fully proved. But after death, at any
rate, quite a different set of chemical laws come into play, and
produce a result which is the very opposite of that before
effected. There is no longer any unanimity or cooperation ;
instead of sustaining or building up the animal tissues, the
affinities now in operation tear down, destroy, and resolve
them into their ultimate elements, each part following out its
own law of destruction or resolution, irrespectively of the others.
The definitions of life which have been given by the most
eminent physiologists, show very clearly their conviction, that
the vital processes are neither chemical nor mechanical, but that
the principle on which they depend is a mystery inscrutable by
the human intellect. Thus, life has been defined by Stahl to be
" the condition by which a body resists a natural tendency to
chemical changes, such as putrefaction." Humboldt says, that
living bodies are " those which, notwithstanding the constant
operation of causes tending to change their form, are hindered
by a certain inward power from undergoing such change." The
definition of Kant, who looked at the subject more as a meta
physician than a physiologist, is in truth no definition at all ; he
says, that " life is an internal faculty, producing change, motion,
166 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
and action." Bichat s definition, that " life is the sum of the
functions by which death is resisted," only introduces a correla
tive mystery into the subject ; and as the latter is a negative
idea, it would be more correct, as Mr. Whewell suggests, to
define death with reference to life, as its cessation, or natural
limit. Schmid defines life to be " the activity of matter, accord
ing to laws of organization ; " and an organized body is said by
Kant to be one in which " all the parts are mutually ends and
means." * Organization, then, is properly the condition or pre
requisite of activity ; it is the machine without the moving
power. Life is something we know not what which keeps
* " It will be observed, that we do not content ourselves with saying,
that, in such a whole, all the parts are mutually dependent. This might be
true even of a mechanical structure ; it would be easy to imagine a frame
work in which each part should be necessary to the support of each of the
others; for example, an arch of several stones. But in such a structure,
the parts have no properties which they derive from the whole. They are
beams or stones when separate ; they are no more when joined. But the
same is not the case in an organized whole. The limb of an animal,
separated from the body, loses the properties of a limb, and soon ceases
to retain even its form.
" Nor do we content ourselves with saying that the parts are mutually
causes and effects. This is the case in machinery. In a clock, the pendulum,
by means of the escapement, causes the descent of the weight, the weight
by the same escapement keeps up the motion of the pendulum. But
things of this kind may happen by accident. Stones slide from a rock
down the side of a hill, and cause it to be smooth ; the smoothness of the
slope causes stones still to slide. Yet no one would call such a slide an
organized system. The system is organized, when the effects which take
place among the parts are essential to our conception of the whole ; when the
whole would not be a whole, nor the parts, parts, except these effects were
produced ; when the effects not only happen in fact, but are included in
the idea of the object ; when they are not only seen, but foreseen ; not
only expected, but intended ; in short, when, instead of being causes and
effects, they are ends and means, as they are termed in [Kant s] definition.
" Thus we necessarily include, in our Idea of Organization, the notion of
an End, a Purpose, a Design ; or, to use another phrase which has been
peculiarly appropriated in this case, a Final Cause. This idea of a Final
Cause is an essential condition in order to the pursuing our researches
respecting organized bodies." Whewell s Phil, of the Ind. Sciences,^
ed. Vol. I. p. 619.
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY. 167
the machine in action, and at the same time preserves it from
decay, to which it would otherwise be subject at every moment.
Life, then, is not mere organization, though most materialists
willingly confound the two things ; to hear them reason, one
would almost suppose that there was no difference between a
dead animal and a living one. Organization is subservient to
life, ministers to it, manifests it, supports it, if you please,
but does not constitute it Life is something added to the or
ganic structure, a new power in action, or rather, on the true
theory, a new and wholly peculiar application of the same power,
not inherent in the parts, the material atoms, nor yet in the
complex organism which is made up of those atoms ; not com
pounded of or resulting from the laws of action, or affinities, of
the elements of the body, but controlling, overruling, and super
seding those affinities, which come into play again only when
life departs,
Life overrides or suspends other laws of ecction, In what
ever manner we contemplate the phenomena of life, the argu
ment seems to me conclusive in favor of the doctrine of immedi
ate Divine agency. If chemical action is mechanical or abso
lute, if chemical affinities are inherent powers, necessarily be
longing to the atoms in which they usually manifest themselves,
how are they thus suspended for a season, or during the life of
the animal, and then made again to operate after its death?
Such intermittent action is not characteristic, is not even con
ceivable, of a primary and necessary quality, an inherent power ;
we cannot, for instance, conceive of a material substance as ex
tended at one moment, and not extended the next, or of an atom
as impenetrable now, and not impenetrable an instant after
wards ; (I refer now, of course, to absolute impenetrability, that
quality which matter is conceived to possess of occupying space,
and of excluding all other matter from the space so occupied.)
And this suspension of the affinities of matter cannot be ac
counted for by the altered circumstances of the case. An ani
mal, for example, is instantly killed by a blow on the head ;
but this event does not alter the mutual position and relations
to each other of the material particles which form one of its
168 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
limbs; these remain undisturbed. Yet their action on each
other instantly changes, from one that contributed to sustain and
build up the organism, to another which carries it by a swift
process to dissolution. It is no answer to this argument to re
mind me, as the chemist will do, of the allotropic states even of
inorganic substances, in which the same bodies manifest differ
ent qualities at successive instants. This is but another instance
of the same phenomenon, not an explanation of the phenomenon,
or an assignment of its cause, which is admitted to be inscru
table. My point is, that necessary attributes, inherent powers,
cannot be allotropic; if what you call the action of the particle
changes, this is a proof that the particle is not acting, but is
acted upon. Spinoza s doctrine teaches us, that invariability
and uniformity are the characteristics of material and necessary
action ; for change, choice, difference, we must go up to the free
action of person or mind. The conclusion is inevitable, then,
that these chemical affinities, so called, are the results of will
and personal power.
The results of mechanical action are perfectly uniform.
Again, these affinities, I say, cannot be necessary and mechan
ical in their operation, because the phenomena of life do not
constantly recur upon the same uniform pattern ; they are not
only intermittent, they are immeasurably diversified. The life
of the organized mass is a free and independent power, as ap
pears from the infinite variety of forms that it assumes. The
affinities, or whatever other powers we suppose to inhere in the
particles by themselves, do not by their complication and mu
tual action make up the life, or give rise to the various motions
of the organism, or create its numberless outward aspects. For
the results of necessary and mechanical action are all alike ;
either they are perfectly similar to each other, or they change
by a fixed law either of deterioration or improvement ; while
the effects of power controlled by freewill and witnessed by
consciousness are multiform, variety being the rule, and perfect
resemblance the exception. This is easily illustrated by a
comparison of human labor with that of a machine. Of any
number of nails made by hand, no two are just alike, while the
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 16$
nail-machine strikes them out in perfect conformity to one pat
tern; or to take another instance, no handwriting even ap
proaches the uniformity of the engraved or printed letters in
many successive copies of the same words. The only difference
perceivable in the former case is a regular and gradual one, as
the machine or the types slowly wear out. Even these illus
trations do not give an adequate idea of the uniformity here in
question, as the machine is always controlled or guided, to a
certain extent, by human power, and is in itself but an applica
tion and direction of the powers of nature, so called, which are
really personal and Divine. Active attributes, necessarily re
sulting from the essence or internal constitution of the thing,
are as unchangeable and constant in their operation as the geo
metrical attributes of space, the immutable and everlasting
relations which are studied by the mathematician ; and this is
precisely the view of the universe, of natural events, which is
taken by the logical necessarian, by Fichte and Spinoza.
The results of life are infinitely varied. Consider, then, the
infinite variety of forms and aspects which living nature as
sumes, and explain these, if you can, on the hypothesis that the
universe is a machine. Of the millions of leaves which make
up the glorious mass of foliage on a large oak tree, it is said, I
believe with truth, that no two can be found exactly alike in
outward configuration.* Of all the faces in a large assemblage,
or, it may be said, even in the population of a city or a country,
not one is the exact counterpart of another. I need not multi-
* " Leibnitz," says De Quincey, " when walking in Kensington Gardens
with the Princess of Wales, took occasion, from the beautiful scene about
them, to explain in a lively way, and at the same time to illustrate and
verify, this favorite thesis, [that amongst the familiar objects of our daily
experience, there is no perfect identity.] Turning to a gentleman in at
tendance upon her Eoyal Highness, he challenged him to produce two
leaves from any tree or shrub, which should be exact duplicates or fac-sirniles
of each other in those lines which variegate the surface. The challenge
was accepted ; but the result justified Leibnitz. It is, in fact, upon this
infinite variety, in the superficial lines of the human palm, that palmistry
is grounded, (or the science of divination by the hieroglyphics written ou
each man s hand,) and has its primd facie justification."
15
170 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY.
ply these instances of the unbounded diversity of nature s opera
tions in life ; every one s memory will supply a sufficient num
ber of them for the purposes of this argument. The differences
alluded to are not those merely which distinguish races, but
those which mark out individuals, separating one generation
from another, and giving a peculiar character to each of the
offspring of common parents. If we should grant, then, that the
simple and uniform effects that are ascribed to gravitation, or
even to a more complex cause, chemical affinity, are mechanical,
the theory of secondary or automatic causation wholly fails to
account for the multifarious phenomena of life. Unity of prin
ciple pervading unmeasured and immeasurable variety, is the
character of the physical universe ; the necessarian may dream
that he can account for that unity, by reducing the All to one
unchangeable substance ; but the variety is to him an inexpli-
plicable mystery.
Wherever we look in outward nature, then, we behold proofs
of an ever-present and ever-active Deity. Diversity, change,
motion, activity, all ceaseless and endless, show that power is
in action ; and this power, commensurate with cthe extent and
coeval with the duration of the universe, is that of the Infinite
One. The sentiment which these phenomena inspire, harmo
nizes with the lesson which they teach to the intellect, and with
the logical deductions of the understanding. As surely as our
earth, with its sister orbs and companion systems, still rolls in its
appointed path, as surely as seed-time and harvest, night and
day, return, and life, in countless forms and untiring action,
peoples every clod of earth and every drop of water, so surely
God liveth.*
* Besides the doctrine maintained in this chapter, six different hypotheses
have been propounded at various times, to account for the motions and
other phenomena of the material universe. I borrow, with much abridg
ment and some addition, an account of them from Dugald Stewart.
1 . The first is that of materialism, according to which the phenomena of
nature are the result of certain active powers necessarily inherent in mat
ter. In its pure form, this is an atheistic hypothesis ; and, in fact, it was
the earliest doctrine of atheism, having been taught by Democritus about
THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 171
450 B. c. It was also the leading feature of the Epicurean philosophy.
The powers which are inherent in matter, and which have existed in it from
all eternity, are enough, according to this theory, to account for all the
phenomena that we witness. From the endless multiplicity of atoms, a
fortuitous concourse of them, in an infinite series of years, may assume the
appearance of regularity and adaptation ; as the chance of order is at least
one out of an infinite number of chances of disorder, and therefore must
occur at least once during an eternity. The groundwork of this hypothesis
is struck away by the proof which has been offered, that power, properly
so called, cannot even be conceived of as an attribute of brute matter ; that
gravity, in particular, cannot be predicated of matter except by an abuse
of words, which confounds the mode of action with the cause of that action ;
and that this universe, considered as an organic whole, and as abounding
with organic life, is not of indefinite antiquity, but is clearly proved, by
geological phenomena, to be of comparatively recent origin.
2. The second hypothesis is theistic, but in nearly every other respect,
it agrees with the preceding one, and it is open to the same objections. Its
doctrine is, that the phenomena of nature result from certain active powers
communicated to matter at its first formation. Except that this theory
recognizes a creation and a Creator, it does not account for the phenom
ena any better than pure materialism ; since it is just as difficult to conceive
of gravity as a property of matter, whether matter was first endowed with
this property many ages ago, or always possessed it. It is inconceivable
that matter should act upon matter which is millions of miles distant from
it, whether this power of acting is inherent in it, or was first imparted to it
at the creation ; in either case, we have to meet the difficulty the contra
diction that something should act where it is not ; in other words, that it
should be where it is not.
3. The third hypothesis is the common one, which ascribes the phenom
ena of nature to certain general laws eftablished by the Deity. We have
sufficiently proved that this theory is founded upon a mere abuse of words,
so that the proper objection to it is, not that it is false, but that it is mean
ingless. General laws are merely a classification and description of the
phenomena which are to be accounted for ; they offer no explanation of
these phenomena, and throw no light whatever upon their efficient causes.
The very purpose of the hypotheses with which we are now concerned, is
to account for efficient causation.
4. A fourth supposition is that of Dr. Cudworth, who ascribes the phe
nomena of the material world to what he calls a plastic or formative nature,
or (according to his own definition of it) to " a vital and spiritual, but unin
telligent and necessary agent, created by the Deity for the execution of his
purposes." This mysterious and fanciful doctrine seems to be rather a
play of the imagination than a product of the intellect. We can hardly
believe that it was propounded seriously. Perceiving the absurdity of the
hypothesis, that the Creator endowed brute matter with active properties
172 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY.
Dr. Cudworth preferred to imagine that He first animated it with an indis
tinct living principle, a sort of half-life, so that it became more plastic
to His hands, and more obedient to His behest, than it would have been in
its original inert and passive state. The supposition is an unnecessary
one, as Omnipotence needs no such aid in executing its purposes ; and as
it is defended by neither argument nor analogy, it may be rejected as a
mere dream.
5. Dissatisfied with all these doctrines, Lord Monboddo attempted to
revive what he calls the ancient theory of mind. Every particle of matter he
supposes to be animated with different minds. Thus, there is one, which
he calls the elemental mind, that is the source of the cohesion of bodies ;
another is the cause of their gravitation ; and so on. Even in the case of
the motion that follows impulse, he holds that the impulse is only the occa
sion of the motion ; the continuance of the motion is attributable to a mind
excited by the impulse, because continued motion implies continued activ
ity. Thus, also, the planets are endowed with minds which guide and
impel them in their revolutions round the sun; only these planetary minds
are void of intelligence, being mere principles of activity. This theory is
open to the same objection as the former one, that it is a mere dream, un
supported even by probability. But both are instructive as showing the
difficulty of conceiving principles to be inherent in matter which would
account for its phenomena ; the agency of mind must, somehow, be called
in.
6. The last supposition is that of the philosophers who maintain that the
universe is a machine formed and put in motion by the Deity. In this
hypothesis, Descartes and Leibnitz agreed, notwithstanding the wide diver
sity of their systems in other respects. But a machine needs a continuous
motive power; it needs the expansive force of steam, the weight of falling
water, the elasticity of steel, or some other force ; and if this be intermitted,
the action stops. A machine is "ftot a contrivance for creating power, but
only for using it, for applying it in one direction or another, or to one or
another purpose. Now, it has been shown that matter has no force of its
own. What, then, keeps the machine of the universe in action 1 It must
be the continuous and immediate action of the Deity ; and this is the very
theory of immediate divine agency which we advocate, except that we
throw away the idle and baseless hypothesis, that Omnipotence works
through machinery, instead of accomplishing its purposes directly and at
once.
THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 173
CHAPTER VIII.
INFERENCES FROM THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE PHE
NOMENA OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE.
Summary of the last chapter. In the last chapter, the phe
nomena of the physical universe, so far as they show change,
diversity, and activity, which are not attributable to human
power and will, were held to prove the immediate and omni
present action of the Deity. The argument was, that these
phenomena afford incontestable evidence of power exerted, or
efficient causation, and there is no source of such power within
our knowledge, and none, in fact, that is conceivable, except in
personal agency ; and in this case, the power being commensu
rate with the extent and duration of all things, it must be as
cribed to the Infinite Creator. This reasoning was carried out
in reference to two of the most comprehensive classes of such
events, those, namely, which are ascribed to gravitation and
to life ; the phenomena under the former head being the most
simple, uniform, and frequent in their occurrence, while those
coming under the latter are most complex, varied, and multiform ;
so that any conclusion established respecting both these classes
must hold true of all intermediate ones.
In regard to the former, it was shown that what are called
forces in mechanical science, are only metaphorical expressions
for the mode or order in which certain events succeed each
other, or are mere fictions for the convenience of the mathema
tician, like the abstractions and hypotheses with which the ge
ometer begins his work ; both attraction and the tangential force
being, in fact, as imaginary as the eccentrics and epicycles of
Hipparchus and Ptolemy. In regard to the latter, the phe
nomena of life, they were shown to be inexplicable and incon
ceivable as effects of mechanism, such effects being necessarily
15*
174 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
uniform and perfectly similar to each other, or changing only
by a regular law of deterioration or improvement ; while the
numberless aspects, and infinite variations of the activity, of
living things, point for their cause to the free volitions of a con
scious agent
This form of argument for the being of a God, it was ob
served, though not so familiar to common minds as the proof
from design, for indeed, it is not fully stated in any work on
Natural Theology with which I am acquainted, is still legiti
mate and conclusive ; and it has this great advantage, that from
it we infer immediately his present existence, instead of estab
lishing this point by a subsequent process of reasoning. The
conclusion to which it leads harmonizes with the natural turn 01
religious sentiment, or devotion, by referring all events to Divint
agency ; and thus we avoid the common objection to the doc
trine of an overruling and ever- watchful Providence.
Hume s objection to the argument from effect to cause. A
further advantage of this reasoning is, that it is not exposed to
the objection urged by Hume, on the ground that the universe
is a singular effect. The way is paved for this sophism by put
ting into the mouth of Cleanthes, the character in the Dialogues
concerning Natural Religion who plays the part of a rational
and consistent theist, a distinct avowal of the mechanical theory
of nature. " Look round the world," says. Cleanthes ; " con
template the whole and every part of it. You will find it to be
nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite num
ber of lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a
degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and
explain." These words, though uttered by an imaginary speak
er, convey, I have no doubt, Hume s own opinion ; and they
certainly leave the door open for -the objection that is instantly
made by Philo, who supports the character and cause of the
atheist.
"When two species of objects," says Philo, "have always
been observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom,
the existence of one wherever I see the existence of the other ;
and this I call an argument from experience. But how this
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 175
argument can have a place, where the objects, as in the present
case, are single, individual, without parallel or specific resem
blance, may be difficult to explain. And will any man tell me,
with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise
from some thought and art like the human, .because we have
experience of it ? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite
that we had experience of the origin of worlds ; and it is not
sufficient, surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from
human art and contrivance. Can you pretend to show any
similarity between the fabric of a house and the generation of a
universe ? Have you ever seen nature in any such situation as
resembles the first arrangement of the elements ? Have worlds
ever been formed under your eye ? and have you had leisure to
observe the whole progress of the phenomenon, from the first
appearance of order to ks final consummation ? If you have,
then cite your experience, and deliver your theory."
This objection confuted. Now I might answer this sophistry
at once, by saying, that although I have not witnes-sed the fabri
cation of a universe, I have watched the growth of a plant, from
the first germination of the seed to the perfection of the blossom ;
and though I have had no personal experience of the origin of
worlds, I yet know, whether from reason or the testimony of
others, a fact that Philo himself will not deny, that this my body,
the material apparatus of limbs and organs in which I live and
move, did begin to be ; and of all its subsequent changes, its
growth up to its present state, I have had the most intimate
experience. But the admission or assertion of Cleanthes, that
the universe is one great machine, seemingly bars out this reply,
by leading us to infer that the preexisting machinery in the
parent plant or blossom produced the seed, the future develop
ment and growth of which ara but the subsequent action of the
same machinery ; so that all which I have actually witnessed or
experienced, is not the origin or beginning, but the continuance,
of things.
How obvious is the rejoinder, that this phrase, the universe, is
a mere general expression for the totality of things, having only
an ideal and fictitious unity, and being, in truth, nothing but an
176 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
abstract conception ! To recur to a former illustration, there is
no such thing as an audience, apart from the individual men and
women who compose it. Let us not be blinded by mere words.
Individual things are the only objects which really exist ; as we
profess here to argue only from facts, let us not confuse these
with mere abstractions and generalities. To talk about explain
ing the origin of a universe, except this be understood to mean
the accounting in succession for each of the real existences
which make up a universe, is to deal in nonsense ; it is as if,
after explaining in due order the motives which brought each
of the hearers together, I should still be required to account for
the general fact, that there was an audience assembled. And
this remark applies, be it observed, not only to the different in
dividuals who at any one moment make up a sum total, or class,
but to the other individuals who occupied the same spot before
these began to be, and to others still, who shall fill their places
after these cease to exist. The unity which is attributed by the
mind, for the mere convenience of conception and speech, both
to successive and contemporaneous individuals, is alike ideal
and fictitious.
Individual things cannot have been created by machinery.
Let us see, then, whether this hypothesis of machinery, as the
secret of the creation, not of a universe, but of individual things
or real existences, is any thing more than a blank assumption.
Suppose that two grains of sand, looking just alike, were placed
on the floor before us, and, while we were watching them, they
should begin to expand, shoot up, alter their forms, take all the
aspects and qualities of life, and finally become distinct and re
cognizable, the one as a giant oak tree, and the other as a living
and moving creature. On witnessing so strange a phenomenon,
we could not help concluding that some personal agency had
produced it, some power transcending that of man ; after satis
fying ourselves that there was no deception or mystification in
the matter, we should at once refer it to a supernatural or mi
raculous cause. Nor would this conclusion be at all less logical,
if the phenomenon were a, frequent one, if there were a moun
tain of such sand, from which particular grains being taken at
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 177
the proper season and carried to the proper place, both time
and place being determined by experience, these results invari
ably followed.
Now, this is a statement but very little disguised, and varying
in no essential particular, from the description of what is actually
and constantly taking place all around us, in living nature. The
beginning of all life, and of all tissues, whether animal or vege
table, is in certain primitive cells, or germinal vesicles, perfectly
resembling each other in external appearance, and so minute,
that they can be discerned only under high powers of the micro
scope. The germs are alike to the eye ; but according to the
place which each is taken from, whether from one side or
another of the sand heap, it is developed by a regular process
into a plant or an animal. If you say that there are specific
differences between these microscopic grains, each one veil
ing some curious and elaborate machinery, peculiar to itself,
by which this astonishing result is brought about, I answer, that
your assertion is both gratuitous and incredible. It is gratui
tous ; for certainly we see no such machinery, and have no indi
cation whatever of its existence; we see nothing but a little
rectangular or circular cell, with a dot in it. It is incredible ;
for we can no more conceive of the possibility of a machine
under such circumstances producing such results, than we can
believe that the automaton really plays an admirable game of
chess solely by the means of wheels, springs, and cylinders. In
both cases, we declare with positive conviction, that intelligence,
will, and conscious activity are somewhere at work in this mat
ter, that some unseen person is actually causing the phenomenon.
" If an animal or a vegetable," says Dugald Stewart, " were
brought into being before our eyes, in an instant of time, the
event would not be in itself more wonderful than their slow
growth to maturity from an embryo or from a seed. But on
the former supposition, there is no man who would not perceive
and acknowledge the immediate agency of an intelligent cause ;
whereas, according to the actual order of things, the effect steals
so insensibly on the observation, that it excites little or no curi
osity, excepting in those who possess a sufficient degree of re-
178 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
flection to contrast the present state of the objects around them
with their first origin, and with the progressive stages of their
existence." Look at the animal when fully grown, moving
about and performing all the functions of life, and then believe,
if you can, that this creature, in all its parts and powers, is the
necessary result of machinery and active energy that are unde-
rived and naturally inherent in that microscopic cell, that mere
grain of sand. Look, further, into your own consciousness,
for you, too, upon this hypothesis, were born from the dust,
and conceive of all your powers of mind and heart, your rea
soning, imaginative, and moral faculties, as the mere product of
machinery in an infinitesimal germ. The part of the infidel
here is really that of outrageous credulity.*
* " The minds of most men are fond of what they call a principle, and
of the appearance of simplicity in accounting for phenomena. Yet this
principle, this simplicity, resides merely in the name ; which name, after all,
comprises, perhaps, under it a diversified, multifarious, or progressive
operation, distinguishable into parts. The power in organized bodies, of
producing bodies li^e themselves, is one of these principles. Give a philos
opher this, and he can get on. But he does not reflect what this mode of
production, this principle (if such he chooses to call it,) requires; how
much it presupposes ; what an apparatus of instruments, some of which
are strictly mechanical, is necessary to its success ; what a train it includes
of operations and changes, one succeeding another, one related to another,
one ministering to another ; all advancing, by intermediate, and frequently
by sensible steps, to their ultimate result ! Yet because the whole of this
complicated action is wrapped up in a single term, generation, we are to
set it down as an elementary principle ; and to suppose, that when we
have resolved the things which we see into this principle, we have suffi
ciently accounted for their origin, without the necessity of a designing,
intelligent Creator. The truth is, generation is not a principle, but a pro
cess. We might as well call the casting of metals a principle ; we might,
so far as appears to me, as well call spinning and weaving, principles ; and
then, referring the texture of cloths, the fabric of muslins and calicoes, the
patterns of diapers and damasks, to these, as principles, pretend to dis
pense with intention, thought, and contrivance, on the part of the artist ;
or to dispense, indeed, with the necessity of any artist at all, either in the
manufacturing of the article, or in the fabrication of the machinery by
which the manufacture was carried on." Paley s Natural Theology, Ch.
xxiii.
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 179
The frequency of the phenomenon does not make it less mirac
ulous. I say further, that the theological conclusion here is so
obvious and reasonable, that all mankind would instantly adopt
it without hesitation, just -as they do an intuitive truth, if it
were not for our familiarity witH such results, arising from their
countless number and constant repetition. One such birth, inter
rupting the uniformity of living nature, otherwise made up, so
far as our knowledge extended, of beings without beginning or
end, would instantly convert all men to a recognition of invisible
power that is personal and Divine. But the frequency of the
phenomenon wears out our wonder ; what is not strange, we
refuse to consider as miraculous ; we look upon it mechanically,
and so come to regard it as a mechanical effect.* But can any
thing be more illogical or unreasonable, than to alter our conclu
sion solely because the evidence is multiplied on which it rests ?
Shall one birth, one beginning of living existence, prove the
being of a Creator, and not a thousand ? Yet this is the whole
of the atheistic argument : the phenomena of nature are con
stantly repeated, therefore the universe is a machine ; and. not
only so, but a machine that made itself, or has existed from
eternity.
I have departed here, in some degre-e, you will perceive, from
the strict argument from the effect up to the cause, by entering
into some details respecting the peculiar character of certain
effects as distinguished from others, so that the reasoning does
not depend, as before, exclusively on the mere manifestation of
power. This is taking a step towards the argument from de
sign, a mode of proof which seems more conclusive to most per
sons than any other, on account of its plainness, the numberless
illustrations or confirmations of it, and the very direct evidence
which it offers of the personality of the Deity.
How the existence of a personal cause is indicated. It is a
* " Sed assiduitate quotidiana, et eonsuetudine oculorum, assuescunt
animi; neque admirantnr, neque requirunt rationes earum rerum quas
semper vident ; perinde quasi novitas nos magis quam magnitude rerum
debeat ad exquirendas causas excitare." Cicero, de Nat. Deor. II. 38.
180 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
step further in the same direction to remark, that the different
modes in which Divine power is here manifested, on the theory
of immediate creative and sustaining energy, are just such as
we might expect from infinite power, wisdom, and beneficence
combined in one person, and eilerted with entire freedom of will,
exerted also, I may now say, with reference to the moral
government of intelligent finite beings, like ourselves. We
should expect (1.) constancy in the regular attainment of certain
great ends, and perfect uniformity in fche modes of obtaining
them ; together with (2.) infinite variety in what may be called
the details of creation. The former, the general laws, we find in
the great recurrent phenomena of the universe, in the laws of
gravitation, heat, light, magnetism, chemical affinity, and the like ;
the latter, the variety, we find in the countless differences which
distinguish all living forms from each other, and diversify to an
immeasurable extent all the relations of life. With the general
laws we are sufficiently acquainted, as it is the peculiar office of
science to study them, since they alone serve to guide the con
duct of free and intelligent beings, and give all its value to
experience. Because the physical inquirer is so exclusively
occupied with these, he comes gradually to overlook the endless
diversity of form and aspect under which they are manifested ;
he sees everywhere the action of law, and the phenomena of
nature appear to him regularly recurrent and mechanical. The
botanist, for instance, studies only the specific differences of
plants, disregarding the minute varieties of shape and hue which
distinguish any two flowers of the same species from each other,
and even the occasional freaks of nature, the metamorphosis of
organs, the production of a leafy branch from the centre of a
flowery or of one flower out of another ; or if he considers these
abnormal growths at all, it is in a vain attempt to reduce them
to the dominion of law, by virtue of a theory which represents
the universe as incomplete, as an idea not yet realized, a plan
not fully carried out. My point here is simply, that these count
less diversities of nature, which are not studied solely because
they are countless, are as much a part of creation, a part, so to
speak, of the Divine plan, as the general laws themselves. The
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 181
filaments of order run in every direction through the web of the
universe ; but they clan be discerned only under the surface-
pattern, which combines all possible modifications of outline and
coloring in measureless profusion.*
Man s conduct shows uniformity united with endless variety.
I say, this regularity in the midst of diversity is precisely what
we should expect from the action of a free and intelligent
agent ; the order manifests intelligence, the variety bears witness
to freedom. For consider the actions of a finite conscious
being, who is a feeble representative, it is true, but the only
representative that we have, of Deity, in so far as he unites
power with intellect and freewill. So far as the great aims
and purposes of life are concerned, according as these are deter
mined by appetite, self-love, habit, or the moral sense, the con
duct of man is consistent and uniform, and you may safely
predict the future from the past. We may even foresee the
results of the combined free activity of great masses of men,
from the known motives and the comparative strength of differ-
* " Peu de principes, de grands moyens en petit nombre, des phenom-
enes infinis ct varies, voila le tableau de 1 univers." Baily, Hist, de
i Astronomic.
" Nature/ says Cuvier, " while confining herself strictly within those
limits which the conditions necessary for existence prescribed to her, has
yielded to her spontaneous fecundity wherever these conditions did not
limit her operations ; and without ever passing beyond the small number
of combinations, that can be realized in the essential modifications of the
important organs, she seems to have given full scope to her fancy, in
filling- up the subordinate parts. With respect to these, it is not inquired,
whether an individual form, whether a particular arrangement, be neces
sary ; it seems often not to have been asked, whether it be even useful, in
order to reduce it to practice ; it is sufficient that it be possible, that it
destroy not the harmony of the. whole. Accordingly, as we recede from
the principal organs, and approach to those of less importance, the varie
ties in structure and appearance become more numerous ; and when we
arrive at the surface of the body, where the parts the least essential, and
whose injuries are the least momentous, are necessarily placed, the number
of varieties is so great, that the conjoined labors of naturalists have not yet
been able to give us an adequate idea of them." Lemons d Anatomie Com-
parte.
16
182 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
cnt motives whicli ane present to the 1 minds of each one of thefts
Political Economy is a science wholly made up of such general
izations of the conduct of men as may be made by observing
the uniformity of their proceedings in respect to the acquisition?
of wealth. That competition lowers prices, which are finally
adjusted by the ratio of tfee supply to the demand, is, in truth, a
general law of human nature, founded not at all on the nature
of the different articles whicfit constitute wealth, but on the dis
positions of men. It may be obtained either empirically, by
observing the course of trade, or deductively, from the higher
laws or generalizations, that all men desire wealth, will buy as
cheaply and sell as dearly as possible, and that their intelligence
will direct them to the use of similar means for attaining these
ends. * .
Mr, Mill even goes so far as to propose a new science,, resting
on the same general basis, which he would call Political Eth
ology, or " the science of the causes which determine the type
of character belonging to a people or an age-" Here the bia&
of the Necessarian or Fatalist appears, striving to reduce all the
complexity and variety of human action under the dominion of
law, and to calculate it as he would the effects of an ordinary
machine. Human conduct, viewed in the gross, appears nearly
as uniform as the phenomena ascribed to gravitation ; but when
viewed in detail, it is a mass of waverings, inconsistencies,
motiveless alterations, and oddities attributed to idiosyncrasies
of character, which baffle all computation and foresight. A
man seldom walks across a room, greets a visitor, or eats his
dinner twice in precisely the same manner; the life, the char
acter, of not one individual is the perfect counterpart of that of
another. Look at great masses of men only from a distance,
at which minute peculiarities are lost in the general effects,
(just as the sounds from a distant city are blended into one hol
low murmur,) and they appear like machines, or rather the
multitude itself seems one great machine. But examine micro
scopically the conduct of an individual for two successive hours,
and the hypothesis of machinery is the very last that you
would adopt. How hard it is to reduce one s muscular motions
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 183
to exact law and method, though each depends on a distinct
volition, appears from the difficulty which all find in learning to
play on a musical instrument, where the necessities of time and
tune require the utmost precision of fingering. Even Mr. Mill
is obliged to confess the obstacles to the establishment of his
favorite social science, arising from " the idiosyncrasies of organ
ization on the peculiar history of individuals." *
The charge of anthropomorphism considered. I am award
that this parallel between the providence of God as shown in
the physical history of the universe, and the conduct of man
considered as depending on intelligence and freewill, may seem
to many too bold, and that the doctrine which brings the two
together is open to the reproach of anthropomorphism. But
we are not to be driven from any wellgrounded conclusions,
resting on the testimony of facts or on logical speculation, by
any overstrained fastidiousness or a blind horror of an ugly
word. This charge of anthropomorphism, or of degrading our
conceptions of the Deity by ascribing to him the forms, quali
ties, and imperfections of finite and dependent creatures, is the
favorite resource of the skeptics of the day, directed especially
* " All in external nature," says De Quincey, " proceeds by endless
variety. Infinite change, illimitable novelty, inexhaustible difference, these
are the foundations upon which nature builds, and ratifies her purpose of
individuality, so indispensable amongst a thousand other great uses, to
the very elements of social distinctions and social rights. But for the
endless circumstances of difference which characterize external objects, the
rights of property, for instance, would have stood upon no certain basis, nor
admitted of any general or comprehensive guarantee.
" As with external objects, so with human actions ; amidst their infinite
ipproximations and affinities, they are separated by circumstances of
never-ending diversity. History may furnish her striking correspondences,
Biography her splendid parallels, Rome may in certain cases appear but
the mirror of Athens, England of Rome ; and yet, after all, no character
can be cited, no great transaction, no revolution of high-viced cities/ no
catastrophe of nations, which, in the midst of its resemblances to distant
correspondences in other ages, does not include features of abundant dis
tinction and individualizing characteristics, so many and so important, as
to yield its own peculiar matter for philosophical meditation and its own
separate moral." De Quincey s Essay on Charlemagne.
184 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
against the argument from design, which represents him as using
means for the attainment of specific and limited ends ; as if the
use of any means whatever were a supposition derogatory to
Omnipotence. That our knowledge of the Divine character is
imperfect at best, and that we are in danger, in seeking to in
crease it, of passing over to mean and idolatrous conceptions of
his attributes, we may frankly confess, as it is a truth attested
by the history of all the degrading forms of superstition which
have prevailed among ignorant and sinful men. " Canst thou
by searching find out God ? Canst thou find out the Almighty
to perfection ? It is high as heaven ; what canst thou do ?
deeper than hell ; what canst thou know ?" But he has not left
us wholly without light ; and the indications of his being and
attributes that are accessible, whether in the volume of his
Word or in that of his works, are to be diligently and reverently
studied, without fear lest they should lead our imperfect appre
hensions wholly astray. It was the remark of a pagan poet,
adopted by a Christian apostle, that " we also are his offspring."
And if so, even the weak and bounded faculties of his children,
made in his image, when purged of earthly stains and freed
from all limitations, may still find their likeness in the attributes
of the Infinite One. The charge of anthropomorphism, in the
strict meaning of that word, is, of course, a senseless and ground
less one, when brought against the doctrine that ascribes eternal
duration, omnipotence, and omnipresence to the Deity. And
in the higher moral attributes of our own being, if we have no
reflection faint, it is true, but still a reflection of the Divine
nature, if the highest and purest conception which we can form
of holiness does not merely come short of, but differs essentially,
or in kind, from the Divine exemplar, then indeed are we most
miserable, and our knowledge on this subject is worse than utter
ignorance. But all intelligence is necessarily of the same order,
though differing infinitely in degree ; and in this respect, we
cannot doubt that it is the inspiration of the Almighty that
giveth us understanding. To say that the use of means to any
end is not consonant with the perfections of an infinite being, is
to arrogate to ourselves his absolute wisdom, and to make the
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 185
creature a judge of the Creator. Besides, the anthropomorphic
tendency of our finite conceptions is met by a danger of the
opposite character, by the risk of so far sublimating our
notion of Divinity, that nothing shall be left but the undefined
shadow of an awful idea, dimly inferred from transcendental
musings. Better to sensualize our conceptions, so that the
affection due to a Father may enter into them, than to refine
them into limitless abstractions.
Order indicates intelligence. The order that reigns in the
works of creation, the uniformity of constantly recurrent phe
nomena, may be viewed either in itself, as a direct indication
of intelligence, or as the fruit of design, and thus indirectly
showing the wisdom of the contriver. Order is not necessarily
purposed for its own sake ; it is the consequence of wisdom in
action, constantly tending towards the same ends, pursuing them
by the best means, and without variableness or shadow of turn
ing. But it may also be designed, as a part of the scheme for
governing those who are left in the main to the guidance of
their own wills and understandings, and so need the uniformity
of nature s laws for the regulation of their conduct. In the
latter respect, then, the consideration of it comes in as one
branch of the argument from design ; in the former, the point
of the reasoning is so well illustrated by an anecdote borrowed
by Dugald Stewart from the French, that I translate it from the
Notes to his Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical,
Ethical, and Political Philosophy.
"Among the associates of the Baron d Holbach [who were
all atheists], Diderot one day proposed that they should select an
advocate to plead the cause of the Deity ; and the Abbe Galiani
was chosen. He took his seat, and commenced as follows :
" ( One day at Naples, a certain person in our presence put
six dice into a dice-box, and offered a wager that he would
throw sizes with the whole set. I said, that the chance was
possible. He threw the dice in this way twice in succession ;
and I still observed, that possibly he had succeeded by chance.
He put back the dice into the box for the third, fourth, and fifth
time, and invariably threw sizes with the whole set. " By the
16*
186 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
blood of Bacchus," I exclaimed, "the dice are loaded;" and so
they were.
" Philosophers, when I look at the order of nature that is
constantly reproduced, its fixed laws, its successive changes,
invariably producing the same effect, when I consider that
there is but one chance which can preserve the universe in the
orderly state in which we now see it, and that this always
happens, in spite of a hundred million of other possible chances
of perturbation and destruction, I cry out, Surely, Nature s
dice are also loaded? " *
This argument sound, though not demonstrative. The argu
ment here is so plain and forcible, and affords so little room for
sophistry and cavilling, that we cannot conceive of a person
failing to be convinced by it, though he may wish to show his
ingenuity in commenting upon it as a piece of reasoning. It is
true, that this mode of proof is not, strictly speaking, a demon
stration. " The conclusion is not apodictical," says Kant ; and
this is the only defect which he has to urge against the argu-
* " Man is always mending and altering his works ; but nature observes
the same tenor, because her works are so perfect, that there is no place for
amendments, nothing that can be reprehended. The most sagacious men
in so many ages have not been able to find any flaw in these divinely con
trived and formed machines ; no blot or error in this great volume of the
world, as if any thing had been an imperfect essay at the first ; nothing
that can be altered for the better ; nothing but if it were altered, would be
marred. This could not have been, had man s body been the work of
chance, and not counsel and providence. Why should there be constantly
the same parts 1 Why should they retain constantly the same places ?
Nothing so contrary as constancy and chance. Should I see a man throw
the same number a thousand times together upon but three dice, could you
persuade me that this were accidental, and that there was no necessary
cause for it ? How much more incredible then is it, that constancy in such
a variety, such a multiplicity of parts, should be the result of chance ?
Neither yet can these works be the effects of necessity or fate, for then
there would be the same constancy observed in the smaller as well as in
the larger parts and vessels ; whereas there we see nature doth, as it were,
sport itself, the minute ramifications of all the vessels, veins, arteries, and
nerves, infinitely varying in individuals of the same species, so that they
we not in any two alike." Kay s Wisdom of God in the Creation.
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 187
ment a posteriori. But what does such an objection amount to ?
Suppose that after Franklin had proved the presence of elec
tricity m & thundercloud, by drawing the fluid to the earth,
charging a Leyden jar with it, and causing it to manifest all the
common electric phenomena, a bystander should still object in
this wise to his doctrine and proof: " You are judging of the
presence of a thing only from its effects ; the truth of the theory
opposed to yours is still conceivable ; your facts and arguments
do not constitute a chain of reasoning like that which supports a
proposition in Euclid.* The plain answer would be, that the
affirmation is supported by the only evidence of which, in the
nature of things, it is susceptible. A fact can be proved only by
other facts ; that which is not perceptible to the senses, can be
made known only through its effects. And though the proof be
not a demonstration, to reject it would be quite as plain an indi
cation of folly or insanity, as to deny the truth of any theorem
in geometry.
Universal skepticism cures itself. Besides, it is evident, that
if we admit the sufficiency ,of such objections, the whole fabric
of physical science, which is founded upon such deductions from
facts, must come to the ground. We must reject all that the
labors of the last three centuries have accumulated by question
ing nature, and sit down contented in hopeless ignorance ; for
the same considerations which show the unsatisfactory character
of what has been done, prove also that nothing more or better
can ever be accomplished. Afi no one can seriously entertain
such sweeping disbelief, universal skepticism in fact cures itself,
if " its universality is steadily kept in view, and constantly borne
in mind. But in practice, it is an armory from which weapons
are taken to be employed against some opinions, while it is
hidden from notice, that the same weapon would equally cut
down every other conviction." I repeat it, then, all the common
metaphysical objections to the argument from design, and to the
other modes of proving the Divine existence which proceed from
the peculiarities of the effect to the cause, are equally destructive
of our reliance on all history, all physical science, and even on
all the ordinary maxims of experience which govern our daily
188 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
conduct. " Fortunately," says the great skeptic himself, " since
reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds, Nature herself
suffices for that purpose, and cures me of this philosophical de
lirium."
" Whatever/ says Sir James Mackintosh, " whatever attacks
every principle of belief can destroy none. As long as the
foundations of knowledge are allowed to remain on the same
level (be it called of certainty or uncertainty) with the maxims
of life, the whole system of human conviction must continue
undisturbed. When the skeptic boasts of having involved the
results of experience and the elements of geometry in the same
ruin with the doctrines of religion and the principles of philoso
phy, he may be answered, That no dogmatist ever claimed more
than the same degree of certainty for these various convictions
and opinions ; and that his skepticism, therefore, leaves them in
the relative condition in which it found them. No man knew
better, or owned more frankly, than Mr. Hume, that to this
answer there is no serious reply. Universal skepticism involves
a contradiction in terms ; it is a belief that there can be no belief*
It is an attempt of the mind to act without its structure, and by
other laws than those to which its nature has subjected its
operations. To reason without assenting to the principles on
which all reasoning is founded, is not unlike an effort to feel
without nerves, or to move without muscles."
The conception of chance analyzed. The idea of chance oc
curs so frequently in the discussion of the argument from design,
that it is of the utmost importance that we should form a distinct
conception of what is meant by it, and how the phenomena
which common language ascribes to that abstraction are really
produced. Now this conception will depend on the peculiar
view which we may take of the theory of causation, or of the
nature of phenomena in the physical universe. I have said,
that there are but two such views or theories which are logical,
complete, and consistent ; the one, which ascribes all change, all
events that take place, to powers necessarily inherent in matter,
and which therefore makes out all activity to be necessary and
mechanical, and the universe to be one vast machine ; the other.*
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 189
which attributes all motion, activity, and change to personal
agency, which considers matter as necessarily passive and inert,
and hence all phenomena which begin to be as direct results of
power directed by intelligence, and accompanied by freewill.
Now the word chance assumes different meanings according as
we adopt one or the other of these theories. Under the former,
there is no such thing as chance ; the word has absolutely no
significance or applicability whatever. We cannot stop short
of Spinozism ; there is nothing fortuitous ; every phenomenon
is the invariable and necessary result of its antecedents, the in
variable and necessary cause of those which come after it. This
truth is so clearly explained and illustrated by Mr. Mill, though
certainly without a perception of its logical consequences, that I
shall borrow his language.
" Chance is usually spoken of," he says, " in direct antithesis
to law ; whatever (it is supposed) cannot be ascribed to any
law, is attributed to chance. It is, however, certain, that what
ever happens is the result of some law, is an effect of causes,
and could have been predicted from a knowledge of the exist
ence of those causes, and from their laws. If I turn up a par
ticular card, that is a consequence of its place. in the pack. Its
place in the pack was a consequence of the manner in which the
cards were shuffled, or of the order in which they were played
in the last game ; which, again, were the effects of prior causes.
At every stage, if we had possessed an accurate knowledge of
the causes in existence, it would have been abstractedly possi
ble to foretell the effect
" It is incorrect, then, to say that any phenomenon is produced
by chance ; but we may say that two or more phenomena are
conjoined by chance, that they coexist or succeed one another
only by chance ; meaning, that they are in no way related
through causation ; that they are neither cause and effect, nor
effects of the same cause, nor effects of causes between which
there subsists any law of coexistence, nor even effects of the
name original collocation of primeval causes."
What is denoted, on this theory, by chance. -* Obviously, then,
on this theorjf, we ascribe the origin of a thing to chance only to
190 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
denote our ignorance of its true cause, not meaning to affirm
that it was not caused at all. Its antecedents are so numerous
and obscure, that we cannot discern the order of their succes
sion, or pick out from among them its latest and invariable fore
runner.
" All nature is but art unknown to thee ;
All chance, direction which thou canst not see."
Not knowing the number of times that the dice knock against
each other and against the sides of the dice-box, or the exact
position in which each one was before it received each blow,
we cannot tell which side will fall uppermost; though, if we
had this knowledge, from the combined effect of the law of
gravitation and of these several impulses, we could foretell the
exact position in which they would finally be left. There may
be casual conjunctions of events, but no casual origin of them.
Accordingly, on this mechanical theory of the universe, to put
chance in the place of a First Cause is to deal in nonsense ; it
is not simply an unfounded, but an unmeaning, hypothesis. On
this theory, the world had no beginning ; nothing ever absolutely
began to be.
What chance denotes, on the second theory.- On the other
theory, which ascribes all events to immediate personal agency,
chance has a meaning as the opposite or absence of design.
Whatever is done by a finite being, not for its own sake, but
from its subserviency to. some other object, is done without
regard, if I may so speak, to the whole event, but only with
regard to some, perhaps one, of its relations or effects. If I
wish to walk in a certain direction, I may push a stone out of
my path, intending only to remove an obstacle, and not caring
where the stone may lie, so that it be not in my way ; that is,
I purpose or design only the removal of an obstruction ; I do not
purpose its removal to a particular spot. Its falling on a certain
spot, then, is said to be, not causeless, for it had a cause, just
as much as any other event, but accidental, that is, not
designed. On either theory, therefore, to make chance, a cause,
is simply to talk nonsense. Again, a sculptor removes chips
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 191
from the marble on which he is at work, intending only to bring
out the statue, and not purposing the juxtaposition of these
chips and dust as they fall. The form which the heap of refuse
matter assumes on the ground is said to be accidental, because
it was not designed. Chance, then, is, so to speak, the residuum
of design ; a portion of the event namely, the form of the
chip in part, and, its removal from the main block was
effected by design ; the remainder of its form, and its position
when falling, were not intended, but were casual. Conse
quently, chance implies design ; we can attribute only a portion
of an effect to it, and \n so doing, we admit that the remaining
portion was foreseen and desired.
How casual effects may be distinguished from designed effects.
This illustration brings us to the knowledge of a criterion
by which we may distinguish what is casual from what is in
tended. If we visited the studio of the Artist duriag his
absence, and saw the statue and the heap of chips lying side by
side, why do we say that the form of the one was" designed, and
that of the other was not? Obviously, on account of the
regularity of shape and outline of the statue, and from its
resemblance to the form of some human being or other crea
ture ; for an induction coextensive with our whole experience
assures us, that aggregations which were casual, or not pur
posed, are quite irregular in shape, and bear no likeness to
any thing except other aggregations, believed to be as casual
as themselves. A skeptic might tell me, it is true, that I could
not demonstrate the truth of my conclusion ; it is certainly con
ceivable, that the sculptor should have hewed off bits from a
block of marble, intending only to make a fantastic or irregular
pile of them ; and that he happened so to choose the points
from which these pieces were taken, that a regular statue was
left in the remainder of the block, though he never thought of
that remainder. Well, I admit it ; this hypothesis is conceiv
able; but is it credible? Would you believe, under such cir
cumstances, that the sculptor has thus acted, and the statue had
thus been produced accidentally, or without being intended ?
I am not seeking now to illustrate the main purport of the
192 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
argument from design ; the instance taken would be poorly
chosen for that end. I seek only to expose the true nature of
the chief metaphysical objection to that argument, in order
that you may see clearly what that objection is worth. My
point is, that, in declaring same, if not all, of the phenomena
of the physical universe to have been produced by design, we
are not making any unfounded assumption, -or resting on any
intuitive principle of the human intellect ; but we are judging
from experience, from the largest possible induction of facts,
the conclusion being of the same general character with all
the ordinary results of physical science ; that is, it is supported
by evidence of the same kind, though vastly superior in amount.
From the experience of our own actions, we know what is the
general character of those results which are intended or pur
posed, and those which are accidental. We know what sort of
effects intelligent action produces, and what is the general aspect
of casual coincidences and aggregations. Judging from this
experience, we can tell where our fellow man has been at work y
and, in the same manner, where God is at work. Finite intelli
gence differs from infinite, not in the general character, but in
the extent and excellence, of its operations.*
* Dr. Whewell affirms, that design is an intuitive idea, a conception of
pure reason, called out and developed, it is true, by experience, but not
growing out of that experience. We can hardly believe that he is serious in
this assertion. If design be considered merely as synonymous with inten
tion, or purpose, then it is evident, that we can have no knowledge of it
until we have had experience of a purpose ; that is, until we have intended
or designed to perform some act. The origin of the idea is in reflection,
or the observation of what passes in our own minds. So we experience a
certain emotion, and apply a name to it, in order to distinguish it from
other emotions, that differ from it in kind, or are excited by a different
class of objects. But it would be very strange to say, that love, or wonder,
or pity, was an intuitive idea.
It is very true, that we mean something more than mere intention, in
speaking of the argument from final causes. But the case here is still
stronger against the assertion, which we are now considering. In this
case, design is a very complex notion, nearly all the elements of it. being
drawn from mental experience. They are founded on our observation
of ourselves, and are successively elaborated and united into the complex
OP THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 193
What is proved by the argument from design. Strictly
speaking, the argument from design does not establish the exist
ence of a cause, but only the character of that cause, that it is
intelligent, personal, coextensive at least with the universe of
existing things, and so Divine. From the reasoning pursued
in the two former chapters, we were driven to the necessity of
admitting some cause, whether personal or not, to account for
the events which have taken place, and for those which are
constantly going on under our observation ; and as the only
power, or true cause, with which we are acquainted, is personal,
being that o man himself, it was argued that the cause of all
things not produced by human agency was also personal. To
this it was certainly possible to answer, though the reply is
surely a very indefinite and unmeaning one, that, discarding
alike the hypothesis of active powers inherent in matter, and of
personal agency such as is exerted by man, the phenomena of
nature might be attributed to a cause in general, of which we
notion, which we call design. The idea rests originally on a perception
of the relation of means to an end. Having observed, that a particular
event followed immediately after another, or several others, and connect
ing the consequent with these antecedents by an intuitive application of
the law of causality, and believing that the course of nature is uniform, or
that like effects will follow like causes, and desiring that the consequent
event may again occur, we act ; that is, we exert our agency to bring
about events similar to the former antecedent ones, doing this under the
expectation, that a similar consequent event will follow. Thus design
implies, first, intelligence, or & knowledge of the laws of causality and
uniformity; secondly, particular experience of some one event, A, hap
pening" in immediate connection with several others, B and C ; thirdly,
a will to reproduce the event A ; fourthly, action, in order to bring about
the events B and C, under (fifthly) an expectation that A will imme
diately follow. Are these five elements all of a priori origin ? Is not
action necessarily implied in design ? And how can we have an idea of
it until we have acted ; that is, until we have had experience, and derived
knowledge directly from that experience ?
It is, indeed, in the complexity of this notion, that the importance of the
argument from final causes almost wholly consists. Wherever we find
indications of design, there is evidence, to an equal extent, of intelligence,
will, activity, and foresight.
17
194 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
can only say that we know nothing, and therefore cannot ascribe
to it either intelligence or freewill. This is an appeal to human
ignorance, it is true ; and it violates that sound rule of inductive
logic, which bids us attribute certain effects to any known and
sufficient cause, even though no direct connection is traceable
between them, provided there is no proved incompatibility of
such a cause with these effects, in preference to attributing them
simply to some unknown cause. But the consideration of the
peculiar character of the effect affords a more direct answer to
this vague objection, by proving incontestably that the First
Cause must unite intelligence, will, activity, and fyresight ; for
these are all implied in design. The God thus revealed is an
individual, self-conscious, and creative being, whose care extends
to the minutest part of creation ; since his wisdom, activity, and
benevolence can be as plainly seen in the structure of a blade
of grass, as in a system of revolving satellites and suns.
The argument from design a simple and obvious one. The
argument from design is a simple, obvious, and natural one,
which can be assailed only by far-fetched, fine-spun, and meta
physical reasonings ; and this, it seems to me, is a strong consid
eration in favor of its soundness. Common men do not often
reason wrongly about simple subjects and matters-of-fact ; they
are often, indeed, mistaken in their premises ; but granting
these, they advance from them through a few steps of proof with
unerring accuracy to a just conclusion. An uneducated man,
of good common sense, is always a better inductive philosopher
than a subtile logician, trained in the schools, who often winds
himself up in a web of ingenious sophistry, so that he cannot
move a step in any direction. The argument has been pro
pounded in nearly all ages of the world, of which we have any
distinct record, and even among rude and illiterate tribes of
men, to justify that faith which, in the mind of every person,
depends upon it to a greater or less degree, though he may not
be able to state it in precise language. It was as ably set forth
and illustrated by Socrates, twenty-five hundred years ago, as
it has been in any recent treatise on natural theology. Paley s
celebrated illustration of it by a watch, ia almost equalled in
OP THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 195
beauty an4 appositeness by Cicero s instance of an ingenious
instrument, made by one Posidonius in his day, which accurately
represented the motions of the heavenly bodies, as they were
then known ; the Roman philosopher asks, if this were, carried
into Scythia or Britain, whether even the barbarous inhabitants
of those countries would believe that more intelligence and
ingenuity were required to construct this feeble imitation of the
planetary sphere, than to make and keep in motion the stupen
dous sphere itself ; or that the origin of the poor copy must be
ascribed to wise design, while the original was the product of
mere chance. Even the unlettered Greenlander told the
Danish missionary, who came to instruct him, that as he knew
his kajak, or boat, with its tackle and implements, could not be
built without much labor and skill, and as the meanest bird
required more ingenuity to make it than the best kajak, so he
had always believed that some being must exist, wiser than the
wisest man, who had made all these things.
Statement of the argument from design. Considering that
the existence and eternal duration of a First Cause have been
fully proved, both from the beginning and the continuance of
the universe of things, the argument from design, in the form
least open to cavil, to show that this cause must be intelligent,
provident, and benevolent, can be very briefly stated. It is,
that a great number of agents being found to work together by
a complex and intricate, yet orderly process, towards the attain
ment of some end, there must exist an intelligent and active being,
who had this end in view, and who made this disposition of the
agents as means for its accomplishment. Orderly cooperation
implies intelligent and directing power. And the order may be
so perfect, and the number of cooperating agents so great, that
this implication becomes, what is called in common discourse,
not in logic, absolute certainty. When the material frame of a
living thing is so organized and put together, that a great num
ber of motions and effects can be produced with ease and within
a small compass, all of them being subservient to the preserva
tion of the animal s existence, and closely adapted to its modes
of life, the inference that this animal was fashioned by an intel-
196 THE GENERAL CHARACTER
ligent Creator is irresistible. When such instances of joint
agency and adaptation are found to be, not few in number, and
scattered, as it were, by chance amidst an infinite number of
conflicting powers, disorderly arrangements, and nugatory re
sults, but manifestations of a great law that pervades all nature,
uniformity being the general rule, and the varieties being strictly
suited to the different circumstances, and all the parts, by a vis
ible connection, tending towards and effecting one general re
sult, namely, the happiness of animal and intelligent life,
then the conclusion, that the whole framework of the universe
was designed and executed by one Being of surpassing wisdom
and goodness, comes home to the mind with a force and clear
ness which no prejudice can reject, and no sophistry evade.
Number and perfection of the adaptations found in the physi
cal universe. The point on which the whole stress of this
argument depends, is the proposition, that adaptation proves
design, or that the concurrence of means to an end, under cer
tain circumstances, must have been intentional ; that is, the end
was foreseen and desired. All the other points are admitted.
It is admitted, for instance, that design proves a designer, that
there cannot be contrivance unless there was some being who
contrived ; this is little more than an identical proposition, or an
explanation of the meaning of words. So, also, it is admitted
that there are wonderful adaptations in the physical universe,
countless in number, grand, complex, and intricate beyond the
most elaborate machine of man s device, delicate, precise, and
artistic to a degree exceeding what the finest perception of the
senses, aided by the most finished instruments, can discover. I
have already spoken of their number and variety, as they are
found in the bodily structure of the animalcules which people
with their multitude a drop of water, in" the fabric and tissues
of all vegetable and animal things, and in the disposition and
arrangement of inorganic matter, from a clod of earth up to the
wonderful framework and garniture of the heavens ; a system
of revolving worlds, whose motions and inequalities are so
wonderfully balanced and adjusted, all subject to one law, exert
ing mutual influence, but never interfering, with the appendage
OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 197
of minor orbs, all working harmoniously with the great scheme.
" Earum autem perennes cursus, atque perpetui cum admira-
bili incredibilique constantia, declarant in his vim et mentem
esse divinam, ut hsec ipsa qui non sentiat deorum vim habere, is
nihil omnino sensurus esse videatur." As to their complexity,
and the subserviency of numerous parts, dissimilar to each
other, to one great end, take the most intricate engine that man
ever contrived, a carpet-loom, for instance, or a printing-press
moved by steam, which it requires a day s study to take apart
and understand ; and yet the anatomist and physiologist will
tell you, that this machine is not to be compared, in point of
complexity and elaborateness, with your own body, in which
the arrangement of means that continue, preserve, and repair it
is so curious and intricate, that all the resources of modern
science have not yet sufficed to thread the whole labyrinth and
show the meaning of the entire structure. As to nicety of
arrangement and perfection of finish, go into an observatory
and examine a chronometer, or a sidereal clock, or a repeating
telescope, with its limbs graduated and marked off to the hun
dredth part of a hair s breadth ; and you will have but a faint
idea of the delicacy and fine adjustment of the parts in the
human eye and ear, through which these organs perform their
office, and are preserved from injury or decay.
The whole question is, whether these numerous, complex, and
nice adaptations prove design.
17*
198 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
CHAPTER IX.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
Summary of the last chapter. Hume s argument, that crea
tion is a singular effect, not coming within the range of our
experience, and so not to be accounted for by inferences
drawn from the phenomena which we now witness, has been
answered by showing that the universe is a mere general con
ception, having but a fictitious unity, and what we are bound to
explain is the origin, not of the whole, but of all the parts taken
in succession. Adverting, then, to particular phenomena, of
which we have experience, I showed that the development of
particular plants and animals from microscopic germs, perfectly
alike, so far as we can see, is a fact which we cannot help
ascribing to some personal agency, some supernatural or mirac
ulous power ; for the hypothesis, that it is caused by some invisi
ble machinery in those germs, is both gratuitous and incredible ;
gratuitous, because we have no evidence that such ma
chinery exists ; incredible, because we cannot conceive of its
possibility. I showed, further, that the phenomena of the uni
verse, in so far as they combine unity with diversity, order with
boundless variety, general laws with distinctive and peculiar
effects not resembling each other, were precisely what we should
expect from individual and personal exertion ; for these also
are the characteristics of human action. The works of intelli
gence show order in their aggregate, and immeasurable diversity
in their details.
An examination of the idea of chance proved that it was ap
plicable, not to the origin, but to the conjunctions of phenomena ;
so that to ascribe creation to chance was not merely an un
founded, but an unmeaning hypothesis. On the theory of
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 199
mechanical action and of powers inherent in matter, no event is
fortuitous, but every fact, even the turning up of a card in a
pack, or the falling of dice, is the necessary result of immu
table law ; we call it accidental, merely to mark our ignorance
of its cause, and not to deny its causation. On the other theory,
that of personal agency, chance is simply the opposite, or the
residuum, of design ; it by no means implies absence of causa
tion, but simply that a portion of the effect was not intended or
cared for by its author.
The criterion by which we distinguish fortuitous from designed
effects. Hence we come, by experience, to the knowledge of
a criterion by which we distinguish designed effects from those
which are fortuitous, or not designed. Order, uniformity, re
semblance to some object, subserviency to some end, is this crite
rion. We have ample experience of both classes of effects ; our
induction is coextensive with all our observation of our own
acts, those of our fellow-beings, and their results ; and the dif
ference between the two classes is so striking and obvious, that
a child can see it, and read its meaning. We contrast, for in
stance, the pile of rubbish that a machinist casts out of his
workshop with the elaborate, complex, and highly finished
engine that he is fabricating within ; and if a skeptic should tell
us, that possibly as much intellect and intention, as much delib
erate purpose, went to the formation of that refuse heap as of
that engine, or that we had only a contingent, and so an unsat
isfactory, assurance that there was any purpose in either, and
thus attempt to undermine our belief that there had been any
artisan at work there, we should deem either that he was disor
dered in his wits, or that he was practising upon our credulity.
How many and how curious are the adaptations that are found
in nature. If, with this criterion in hand, we come to exam
ine the phenomena of the universe so far as they do not depend
on the agency of man, in order to see if there is any evidence of
design in them, the answer which we obtain is decisive beyond
all cavilling. We ask not now, whether the several arrange
ments and results ever began to be, and so ever had a cause, or
required power for their production ; that point has been consid-
200 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
ered and determined already ; it has been proved that such a
cause was, and is, as otherwise the events themselves are
inexplicable. The present question is, whether we can find
probf that this productive energy was guided by intelligence, was
exerted with reference to an end which it proposed and desired
to accomplish. The answer is, that the adaptations which we
discover in the world are so curious, far-reaching, and impor
tant, and moreover so numerous among all the arrangements oi
matter, they correspond so perfectly in their general charactei
to the contrivances of man for attaining his objects, though they
far transcend such human designs in wisdom, that we are irre
sistibly led to consider them as intentional. We can conceive
that one or two slight adaptations should exist, which were not
designed. Among the multitude of stones upon a sea-beach, for
instance, we may by long search find one or two that are not
only regular in form, but bear some rude resemblance to uten
sils or implements fashioned by man, so that with some diffi
culty they may be turned to useful purposes. A rude substi-
stute for a hammer or chisel may thus be discovered. But
these are lost among a countless number of shapeless pebbles
which can be applied to no use.
Such is not the character of those physical arrangements by
or through which animal and vegetable life is sheltered, devel
oped, and continued in being. Here, every thing is artistic;
every part, even the minutest, has its use ; the whole forms one
system, every portion of which is essential to its perfection, as,
by the curious disposition of the interior, all the parts act and
react upon each other. According to a definition already
quoted, an organism is that of which all the parts are mutually
ends and means. So perfect is this correspondence of the parts
with each other and with the whole, that the eye practised in
the study of them can, from a minute portion, supply what is
lost, and build again the entire system. Give to the compara
tive anatomist a section of a single tooth, and he will tell you to
what animal it belongs ; give him one scale of a, fish that no
longer exists except as imbedded in red sandstone, and he will
reconstruct that fish, though he has never seen its entire fossil
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 201
remains. Which is the worthier of admiration here, the in
tellect which infers the shape and organization of the whole
structure from so small a remnant of it, or that which so fash
ioned and ordered all the parts with minute correspondences
and relations, that any one of them is %key to all the others?
Sagacity and skill, in their highest degrees, were required to
find the key to the fabric ; and is there no proof of intelligence
in the fabric itself, and in the creation of the means by which
the discovery was rendered possible ? As well might we say
that the ability to read a book was indeed a proof of intellect,
but not the ability to write it.
Arrangements made for future wants. Design is necessa
rily prospective ; it is the adoption of means to secure an end
not yet realized, or which exists only in idea. It implies knowl
edge and skill, therefore, for the selection of the proper means,
and foresight of their mode of operation, and of the nature of
the end to be obtained. Now there are certain arrangements
in the animal and even in the vegetable kingdom, which, as
they at first exist, seem to answer no useful end whatever ; but
at a subsequent stage in the history of the organism, when new
occasions or necessities have sprung up, they are found to be
admirably adapted to some essential purposes. These, from
their prospective character, seem to afford the required link of
proof that the adaptation was intentional or designed. Thus,
the human teeth do not grow till they are needed by a change
of food consequent on advance in life ; and even the first set of
teeth, with the alveolar process, or sockets, which contain them,
which are suited for the child s use, are displaced or absorbed
when the enlargement of the jaws renders them no longer fully
competent for their office, and are replaced by a new set, which
had long been forming beneath. Can you believe that this
arrangement was not intended to answer the purpose which it
actually does answer ?
Other arrangements for contingent wants, or casualties.
Still more strongly indicative of design are the arrangements to
meet certain wants which are not only prospective, but contin
gent on the intelligence and freewill of another being, so that it
202 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
is doubtful whether they will ever exist. The casualties to
which the human frame is subject are, to a great extent, avoid
able by human care and forethought ; still, they often happen,
and there are numerous and beautiful arrangements in the sys
tem, or the animal economy, by which their consequences are
met and repaired. The broken bone is again united by the
matter which exudes from the two extremities, and knits them
together even with greater solidity than the limb possessed in
that part before, as if to guard against a repetition of the acci
dent. The bruised or diseased flesh is separated by a thickened
coating from the sound portion^ and then thrown off by suppur
ation, its place being gradually taken by new and sound tissue,
The main artery, which furnishes a limb with its chief supply
of blood, being tied up and thus obliterated by the surgeon, in
order to avoid the consequences of an accidental enlargement,
collateral channels are made or enlarged by the Divine Helper,
even the direction of the current in some of them being changed,
so that the limb again receives its full supply. Shall we say
here, that the surgeon, indeed, designed to stop up the main
canal, but that there was no purpose or intention in the altered
disposition of the other parts, by which the injurious effects of
this stoppage were obviated ? It is needless to enumerate other
instances ; the physician or the surgeon will tell you, that the
body abounds with such adaptations or contrivances, so that his
art is little more than waiting for their operation, and prevent
ing the unwise interference of the patient or his friends. The
vis medicatrix, the recuperative and repairing force of nature,
is that which lends nearly all its efficiency to medical skill.*
Means are varied according to circumstances, but they still
conduce to one end. One other class of illustrations of inten
tional effects in the physical universe, may be aptly introduced
* " Gaudet corpu8 vi prorsus mirabili, qua contra morbos se tueatur ;
multos arceat ; multos jam inchoates quam optime et citissime solvat ;
aliosque suo modo ad felicem exitum lentius perducat. Hsec Autocrateia,
vis Naturae medicatrix vocatur; medicis, philosophis notissima et jure
celeberrima. Hsec sola ad multos morbos sanandos sufficit, in omnibus
fere prodest." /. Gregory.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 203
by a quotation from a medical writer of approved authority.
" The intention of nature," he observes, " can nowhere be so
well learned as from comparative anatomy ; that is, if we would
understand physiology, and reason on the functions in the ani
mal economy, we must see how the same end is brought about
in other species. We must contemplate the part or organ in
different animals, its shape, position, connection with the other
parts, etc., and observe what thence arises. If we find one
common effect constantly produced, though in a very different
way, then we may safely conclude that this is the use or func
tion of the part. This reasoning can never betray us, if we are
but sure^of the facts."
Now, to apply this remark, compare together the eyes of an
eagle, a man, a fish, a mole, and lastly consider the case of that
singular species of fish which inhabits only the dark waters of a
vast cave, and so has no eyes at all ; compare them, I say, with
reference to the different circumstances in which these several
animals are placed, and to the adaptations of the organ to these
different circumstances, and see if it be possible to avoid the in
ference that the eye was intended to see with. Here we have
numerous instances of a concurrence of means to one end ; the
means being varied just so far as to preserve a constant relation
to the several media through which vision takes place, and to
the purposes of the animal for which sight is required. The
crystalline humor of the eyes of animals living in water, to suit
the greater refractive power of the surrounding medium, is
made, not plano-convex, as in land animals, but spherical.
Means are provided, in the eyelids and tears, for cleaning the
human eye from dust ; in the fish, this apparatus is unnecessary
and is not found ; but the mud-crab, which seeks its food in mud
and turbid water, and is thus liable to be blinded by slime, has
a little brush near the eye, against which the prominent horny
eye can be raised and wiped, " with an action as intelligible as
that of a man wiping his spectacles." The means for cleaning
the eyes should be very abundant and efficacious for birds, as
they sweep with great velocity through great spaces of air, and
for some quadrupeds whose eyes frequently come in contact
204 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
with dust and other floating matter. On this account, their eyes
are provided with a peculiar membrane, attached by a slender
thread to a muscle placed in the back part of the eye, so as not
to obstruct the vision. When this muscle contracts, the mem
brane is suddenly drawn over the fore part of the eye, sweeping
it clean of every particle of dust, and then, by its own elasticity,
falling back to its original position. To obtain greater length
in a less compass, the cord of this muscle makes an angle, pass
ing through a loop formed by another muscle, and is there in
flected, as if bent round a pulley ; the second muscle, of course,
when it contracts, twitches the first muscle at the point of in
flection, and so assists the action designed by both. " Every
one," says Sir Charles Bell, " who has ridden a horse on a dusty
road, must have been struck with the superior provision in the
horse s eye ; he never suffers from the dust, because this car
tilage, being bedewed with the secretion of a peculiar gland,
not tears, but a matter more glutinous, sweeps across the eye,
and collects and removes every particle of dust."
Such adaptations must have been designed. Is it credible
that this beautiful apparatus, a delicate brush moving by the
reciprocal action of a spring and of force applied to a slender
cord passing over a pulley, was not contrived for the very pur
pose of removing injurious foreign matter from the eye, the lia
bility to such intrusion being foreseen, and the machinery being
invented with special reference to this contingency ? Suppose
a laborer, obliged to work amid the thick dust of a coal-mine,
were found, on our visit to the pit, though we had never heard
of such a contrivance before, to be provided with a compact
self-adjusting machine, exactly resembling this membrana nicti-
tans, except that it was not permanently attached to his eyes,
but was put on and off like a pair of glasses. Suppose the
wearer of it should tell us, that it was indeed a very convenient
thing for keeping the dust out of his eyes, but that it was not
made for this purpose, nor indeed for any purpose whatever, but
was the mere freak of an ingenious artisan, who was accustomed
to make curious little machines for no object at all, except to
amuse himself; and that the laborer, visiting his museum one
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 205
day, happened to see this apparatus, and perceiving that it
would be useful for the protection of his eyes, had purchased it
for this end. Should we believe this extravagant story ? I am
not caricaturing the matter at all, but supplying what is, on the
whole, a favorable illustration of the wisdom and justice of that
doctrine which denies that any adaptations whatever, however
complex, delicate, and exactly suited to the end, afford any
proof of foresight and design. According to the philosophers
who entertain this doctrine, all that we are entitled to affirm is
the existence of the apparatus with all its parts, and the accom
plishment of a certain end by it, that is, the mode in which it
works ; for this is all that we see, all that is visible on the very
face of the matter. To maintain that this end was contemplated
beforehand, and desired by some other being, who devised these
peculiar means for obtaining it, is to assert a fact of which we
have no sensible evidence, and to attribute motives to a cause
of whose essence we are wholly ignorant.
Physical inquiry not limited to what can be seen externally.
Is it, then, a received maxim in physical inquiry, that our in
vestigations must be strictly limited to the outside of the phe
nomena, to a mere description of their external characteristics,
and to the law of their succession, so that we are never entitled
to infer the existence of any fact which is not directly visible ?
If so, this criticism is just, and the argument from design is
either wholly unfounded and deceptive, or it cannot be classed
with the ordinary processes of inductive science whose correct
ness no one affects to question, and with which it has been my
purpose to show that it is entirely coincident. To determine
whether this maxim is admitted, I will cite a passage from the
latest, and probably the most judicious and profound, writer on
inductive logic, who is certainly not biased in favor of any the
ological argument, and is not thinking of any such argument in
the passage in question.
" There is a great difference," says Mr. Mill, " between in
venting laws of nature to account for classes of phenomena, and
merely endeavoring, in conformity with known laws, to conjec
ture what collocations, now gone by, may have given birth to
18
206 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN
individual facts still in existence. The latter is the strictly
legitimate operation of inferring, from an observed effect, the
existence, in time past, of a cause similar to that by which we
know it to be produced in all cases in which we have had actual
experience of its origin" Is it possible to give, in abstract lan
guage, a more precise description of the case in hand? We
have had actual experience, both in our own works, and by ob
serving those of our fellow men, of complex contrivances, or
designed adaptations to an end ; and we have compared or
contrasted these with the unintentional collocations of matter
which are also attributable to human agency. With the light
gained from this comparison, when we come to observe physical
effects and arrangements, perfectly similar to these designed
adaptations, and strongly contrasted with the unintentional
groupings, we infer the existence, in time past, of a cause similar
to that which produced the effects of which we have full knowl
edge,. that is, an intelligent and designing cause,
Judicial and geological inferences compared with those of
natural theology. I go on now with the extract from Mr. Mill,
to show what class of cases he had in view in making this
remark, and because these cases are apt illustrations, perfect
parallels,, of the argument from design. " This, for example, 7
he says, " is the scope of the inquiries of geology ; and they
are no more illogical or visionary than judicial inquiries, which
also aim at discovering a past event by inference from those of
its effects which still subsist. As we can ascertain whether a
man was murdered, or died a natural death, from the indications
exhibited by the corpse, the presence or absence of the signs
of struggling on the ground or on the adjacent objects, the
marks of blood, the footsteps of the supposed murderers, and
so on, proceeding throughout upon uniformities ascertained by
a perfect induction without any mixture of hypothesis ; so, if
we find, on or beneath the surface of our planet, masses exactly
similar to deposits from water, or to results of the cooling of
matter melted by fire, we may justly conclude that such has
been their origin ; and if the effects, though similar in kind, are
on a far larger scale than any which are produced now, we may
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 207
rationally, and without hypothesis, conclude that the causes
existed formerly with greater intensity." And so, I add, if we
find, on the surface of our planet, adaptations exactly similar to
arrangements known to be designed by man, we may justly
conclude that intelligence was concerned in the formation of
both ; and if these, though similar in kind, are on a far larger
scale than any which are produced by man, we may rationally,
and without hypothesis, conclude, that the intelligence which
produced them was of a higher order than the human under
standing.
Mr. Mill further observes, that " in the speculation respect
ing the igneous origin of trap or granite, the fact does not
admit of direct proof, that those substances have been actually
subjected to intense heat. But the same thing might be said
of all judicial inquiries which proceed upon circumstantial
evidence. We can conclude that a man was murdered, although
it is not proved by the testimony of eyewitnesses that a man
who had the intention of murdering him was present on the
spot. It is enough, if no other known cause could have generated
the effects shown to have been produced" Here, again, the paral
lel is complete. Certainly we have no direct proof, no testimony
of eyewitnesses, that the Deity was present in person before
these effects followed, and that he intended to produce them.
It is enough for us to know, from our own experience and from
that of the whole human family, that these effects could not
have followed except from intelligent action, from a personal
cause ; there is no other known cause adequate to their produc
tion.
Accumulation of instances not needed ; the reasoning strictly
logical. It forms no part of my plan, you will perceive, to
enter into a full exposition of the proofs from design, detailing
their number and variety, and thus aiming to produce convic
tion by their cumulative effect. The examples that I have
adduced are intended to show only the nature of the argument,
its logical efficiency, and therefore they have been designedly
taken from the most familiar treatises on Natural Theology.
Strictly speaking, an accumulation of them is not needed ; for
208 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
if one undoubted instance of the designed adaptation of means
to ends can be produced, then an intelligent creative Deity must
exist. If one fact alone, among all the circumstances enumerated
by Mr. Mill, proves incontestably that the man was murdered,
the consideration of the other traces of violence may be entirely
omitted. Those who wish to enter into the argument in detail
may find all that they need in Paley s excellent and unsurpassed
exposition of it, two chapters of which, for this purpose, are
worth all the Bridgewater Treatises put together. But an
undefined impression, a lurking doubt, exists in many minds,
fostered, if not created, by some popular metaphysical specula
tions, that there is a fundamental defect in this reasoning, an
illogical assumption, which is carefully suppressed, or winked
out of view, by those who are conscious that there is no other
mode of getting rid of it. This is skepticism, the more danger
ous because it is wavering and indefinite ; for the doubt is enter
tained by many who do not even know what the alleged defect
is. It is this vague impression which I have labored to confute,
and for this purpose I have entered into a minute and probably
tedious examination of the logical structure of the argument,
comparing it with the evidence on which all physical science
depends. The result is, that it is perfectly coincident with such
evidence; it is of the same kind, though vastly superior in
degree.
Certain assumptions are necessary in all reasoning. As to
the alleged defect, the supposed assumption which is made, not
only in the argument from design, but in all the truths of physi
cal science, and in the regulation of our daily conduct, a very
few words will suffice to explain its character. In all these
cases, we take it for granted that the human faculties are ade
quate to their work, that memory is not always confounded with
imagination, that from similar effects we may infer the presence
of similar causes ; and when we have no direct sensible evidence
that a certain object exists, or a certain event has taken place,
we may still learn the fact from some unquestionable indica
tions of its reality. These are assumptions ; and though the
skeptic in words may deny them, in action he admits them with-
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 209
ojt hesitation. If the evidence on which the theist relies were
multiplied a thousand-fold, it would still be chargeable with the
defect which we are now considering, and consistency would
require the unbeliever still to reject it. I find this fact so clearly
admitted and set forth by the chief of English skeptics, by
Hume himself, that it is worth while to quote the passage. In
the Dialogues to which I have already referred, after Philo has
been arguing for some time, with great subtilty and ingenuity,
against these assumptions, Cleanthes breaks out, with some im
patience :
" Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no better than
the abstruse cavils of those philosophers who denied motion ;
and ought to be refuted in the same manner, by illustrations,
examples, and instances, rather than by serious argument and
philosophy. Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were
heard in the clouds, much louder and more melodious than any
which human art could ever reach: Suppose that this voice
were extended in the same instant over all nations, and spoke
to each nation in its own language and dialect : Suppose that
the words delivered not only contain a just sense and meaning,
but convey some instructions altogether worthy of a benevolent
being superior to mankind: Could you possibly hesitate a mo
ment concerning the cause of this voice, and must you not
instantly ascribe it to some design or purpose ? Yet I cannot *
see but all the same objections (if they merit that appellation),
which lie against the system of Theism, may also be produced
against this inference.
" Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were
founded on experience ; and that, when we hear an articulate
voice in the dark, and thence infer a man, it is only the resem
blance of the effects which leads us to conclude that there is a
like resemblance in the causes ; but that this extraordinary voice,
by its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all languages, bears so
little analogy to any human voice, that we have no reason to
suppose any analogy in their causes ; and consequently, that a
rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, you know not whence,
18*
210 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
from some accidental whistling of the winds, not from any-
Divine reason or intelligence? You see clearly your own
objections in these cavils, and I hope, too, you see clearly, that
they cannot possibly have more force in the one case than in
the other."
The argument is a simple and obvious one. The idea that
there was a lurking difficulty in the argument, which theologians
willingly avoided, seems to have proceeded from the fact, that it
appeals to common sense and the plain instincts of our nature,
while the objections to it are abstruse, far-fetched, and refined.
It needs some study to perceive that they are, at least to an
equal extent, shallow and sophistical, as they rest solely on the
mistaken notion, that metaphysical reasoning is applicable to
matters-of-fact. What would be thought of the wisdom, or
even the sanity, of the mathematician who, having found from
the calculus what must be the form of a body which is to move
through a fluid with the least possible resistance, and having
ascertained also, (what happens to be true,) that his abstract
conclusions are rebutted by simple and decisive experiments,
should yet adhere to his results as available for practical pur
poses, on the ground that they were supported by demonstra
tion, while they were not contradicted except by the evidence
of the senses, which is a source only of contingent assurance ?
The child or the savage knows that facts are a test of reasoning,
and not reasoning of facts. " Is it not fitting," said a savage
of Sumatra to his companion, showing him a watch that had
been made in Europe, " that a people such as we should be the
slaves of a nation capable of forming such a machine ? The
sun," he added, " is a machine of the same nature." " And
who winds him up ? " asked his companion. " Who," replied
he, " but Allah." Thus it is, as Paley remarks, that these proofs
" are sufficiently open to the views and capacities of the un
learned, at the same time that they acquire new strength and
lustre from the discoveries of the learned. If they had been
altogether abstruse and recondite, they would not have found
their way to the understandings of the mass of mankind ; if
THE ABGrUHENT FROM DESIGN. 211
they had been merely popular, they might have wanted solid-
ity."
Why the Creator works by means and agencies. But it is said,
that the use of means to an end implies the existence of diffi
culties and obstacles, and so leads to a supposition of defect of
power ; contrivances are human conceptions to get rid indirectly
of obstacles which we are not able immediately to remove by a
simple act of the will ; therefore they cannot rightly be attrib
uted to Omnipotence, which is always adequate to the direct
accomplishment of its ends. Thus, a child must use a lever to
raise a weight which the adult lifts at once without effort ; the
boy must stand in a chair to arrive at an object that is within
reach of his parent s arm. It is hardly enough to say, simply,
that it has pleased the Almighty to work by means and agen
cies, instead of directly accomplishing his purposes, unless we
can supply some reason for this preference which shall be con
sistent with infinite wisdom. I answer, then, that we immedi
ately discover such a reason, if we bring in the idea of the moral
government of man, a creature endowed with intellect and con
science, and left to complete his earthly education and proba
tion by his own freewill. The ultimate purpose of all these
contrivances, then, is, that the study of them may lead us up to
a knowledge of the existence and attributes of their Infinite
Author. And further, for the regulation of our daily conduct,
in order that we may infer the future from the past, it is neces
sary that the course of nature, or the action of Deity, should be
uniform, or, in other words, that it should be governed by gen
eral laws. " It has been said, that the problem of creation was,
Attraction and matter being given, to make a world out of
them." How could we act at all, self-guided, unless from
reliance on the constantly recurring and uniform phenom
ena of gravitation, light, heat, chemical affinity, and the like ?
" These," to quote again from Paley, " are general laws ; and
when a particular purpose is to be effected, it is not by making
a new law, nor by the suspension of the old ones, nor by
making them wind, and bend, and yield to the occasion ; but it
is by the interposition of an apparatus corresponding with these
212 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
laws, and suited to the exigency which results from them, that
the purpose is at length attained." *
The assumption of design a fruitful principle in physical sci
ence. That final causes, or the purposes for which numberless
arrangements and adaptations were made, can be discerned in
nature, is not only a principle in Natural Theology, but a re
ceived doctrine, and a fruitful one, in physical science, especially
in the departments of physiology and zoology, in which it has
been a guide to the most important discoveries. Thus, Harvey,
in 1616, having learned that there w^ere valves in the veins;,
which opened tpwards the heart, and thus permitted the blood
* " Is it nothing- more than a lucky accommodation which makes the
polarity of the needle to subserve the purposes of the mariner ? Or may it
not safely be affirmed, both that the magnetic influence (whatever its pri
mary intention maybe) had reference to the business of navigation a
reference incalculably important to the spread and improvement of the
human race ; and that the discovery and the application of this influence
arrived at the destined moment in the revolution of human affairs, when,
in combination with other -events, it would produce the greatest effect?
Nor should we scruple to affirm, that the relation between the inclination
of the earth s axis and the conspicuous star which, without a near rival,
attracts even the eye of the vulgar, and shows the north to the wanderer on
the wilderness, or on the ocean, is in like manner a beneficent arrangement.
Those who would spurn the supposition that the celestial locality of a sun,
immeasurably remote from our system, should have reference to the ac
commodation of the inhabitants of a planet so inconsiderable as our own,
forget the style of the divine works, which z s, to seeure some great or principal
end, compatibly with ten thousand lesser and remote interests. Man, if he would
secure the greater, must neglect or sacrifice the less : not so the Omnipo
tent Contriver. It is a fact full of meaning that those astronomical phe
nomena, (and so others), which offer themselves as available for the pur
poses of art, as, for instance, of navigation or geography, do not fully
or effectively yield the aid they promised, until after long and elaborate
processes or calculations have disentangled them from variations, disturb
ing forces, and apparent irregularities. To the rude fact, if so we might
designate it, a mass of recondite science must be appended, before it can
be brought to bear with precision upon the arts of life. Thus, the polarity
of the needle, or the eclipses of Jupiter s moons, are as nothing to the
mariner or the geographer, without the voluminous commentary af
forded by the mathematics of astronomy." Taylor s Introduction to
Edwards, p. cxxxviL
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 213
to pass in this direction, while they would prevent its passage
towards the extremities, and that the valves at the exit of the
arteries from the heart opened in the opposite direction, assumed
that these valves must have been intended to allow and direct
the movement of the blood, and was thus led to the capital dis
covery of the circulation. To prove the fact, he tied the veins,
and found that they swelled on the side nearer the extremities ;
he tied the arteries, and found that they swelled on the side
nearer the heart. It would be easy to show, that nearly all the
great discoveries which have been made in physiology since
Harvey s time, have proceeded from this same doctrine, from
the assumption, that is, that no part of the body exists without
some use, or function, which it was designed to fulfil. Observe,
that here it is not a knowledge of the adaptation which sug
gests the purpose, but an assumption of the purpose which leads
to a knowledge of the adaptation, or use.*
To show the fruitful application of the same principle in
=*"In Biology alone/ observes Bichat, "have we to contemplate the
state of disease. Physiology is to the movements of living bodies, what
astronomy, dynamics, hydraulics, etc., are to those of inert matter : but
these latter sciences have no branches which correspond to them as
pathology corresponds to physiology. For the same reason, all no
tion of a medicament is repugnant to the physical sciences. A medica
ment has for its object to bring the properties of the system back to their
natural type ; but the physical properties never depart from this type,
and have no need to be brought back to it ; and thus there is nothing in
the physical sciences which holds the place of therapeutics in physiology : "
" or," Dr. Whewell justly adds, " as we might express it otherwise, of inert
forces we have no conception of what they ought to do, except what they
do. The forces of gravity, elasticity, affinity, never act in a diseased man
ner ; we never conceive them as failing in their purpose ; for we do not
conceive them as having any purpose, which is answered by one mode of
their action rather than another. But with organical forces, the case is
different ; they are necessarily conceived as acting for the preservation and
development of the system in which they reside. If they do not do this,
they fail, they are deranged, diseased. They have for their object to con
form the living being to a certain type ; and if they cause or allow it to
deviate from this type, their action is distorted, morbid, contrary to the
ends of nature. And thus this conception of organized beings as suscep-
214 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
zoological researches, I have only to borrow the language of the
illustrious Cuvier, at the commencement of his great work on
the Animal Kingdom. " Zoology," he says, " has a principle of
reasoning which is peculiar to it, and which it employs with ad
vantage on many occasions ; this is the principle of the conditions
of existence, vulgarly called the principle of final causes. As
nothing can exist, if it do not combine all the conditions which
render its existence possible, the different parts of each being
must be arranged in such a manner as to render the total being
possible, not only in itself, but in its relations to those which
surround it ; and the analysis of these conditions often leads to
general laws, as clearly demonstrated as those which result from
calculation or experience." Thus, " If the viscera of an ani
mal are so organized as only to be fitted for the digestion of
recent flesh, it is also requisite that the jaws should be so con
structed as to fit them for devouring prey ; the claws must be
constructed for seizing and tearing it in pieces ; the teeth, for
cutting and dividing its flesh ; the entire system of the limbs or
organs of motion, for pursuing and overtaking it; and the
organs of sense, for discovering it at a distance. Nature must
also have endowed the brain of the animal with instincts suffi
cient for concealing itself, and for laying plans to catch its neces
sary victims." " By such considerations," adds Mr. Whewell,
Cuvier " has been able to reconstruct the whole of many ani
mals of which parts only were given ; a positive result, which
shows both the reality and the value of the truth on which he
wrought."
Natural theology is knowledge ; infidelity is ignorance.
Thus it appears that the theological argument from design is
not merely coincident in character, and of the same logical
force, with the principles of physical science, but it is identical
tible of disease, implies the recognition of a state of health, and of the or
gans and vital forces as means for preserving this normal condition. The
state of health and perpetual development is necessarily contemplated as
the Final Cause of the processes and powers with which the different parts
of plants and animals are endowed." Philosophy of the Ind. Sciences, Vol.
I. p. 627.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 215
with many of those principles. It is one and the same maxim,
or law of inquiry, which guides the anatomist to a knowledge of
many parts of an animal structure that he has never seen, and
leads the seeker after religious truth to a recognition of the
being, the wisdom, and the beneficence of a God. It furnishes
him, also, with an explanation of the mysteries of that universe
which he inhabits, with a key to the true purpose and character
of those marvellous arrangements and adaptations in the midst
of which he lives, and on which, indeed, his existence depends.
If the phenomena of nature were not arranged by an all-wise
Providence, if this earth does not show the footprints of Divin
ity, then those phenomena are inexplicable, and the origin and
tendency of all things are surrounded by a veil which no human
eye can pierce. Our life itself is but " a confused noise between
two silences ; " we emerge from the darkness at one end, only to
find ourselves surrounded with wonders whose meaning we can
not fathom, and then to pass again into the thick gloom whose
portal is the grave. Infidelity offers us no compensation or su
stitute for the light that it extinguishes, for the faith which it
destroys ; it accounts for nothing, it explains nothing ; it is a
mere confession of blank, hopeless ignorance. We can find,
not a refuge, but a resting-place, either in the appalling system
of Spinoza, under the iron rule of fatalism, which deprives us
alike of the consciousness of our own personality, and of all
motive for action or effort, or in the absolute skepticism of
Hume, which is mere negation and darkness, where we have no
assurance even of the grounds of disbelief. The doctrine of
theism dissipates this gloom ; it supplies a reason for exertion,
and objects for study ; it is a vindication of the possibility of
human knowledge. It can be overthrown only by a denial of
that possibility.
Theology needed to Jill up our knowledge of nature. What
we call nature is an assemblage of objects, and a succession of
events. These objects are not simple and uniform, but complex,
varied, and curiously fashioned, abounding in curious adjust
ments and nice arrangements of parts. The events do not suc
ceed each other irregularly, or seemingly at random, but in a
216 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN,
fixed order, preserving harmonious relations, which enable us t<?
divine the future from the past In spite of our life-long fa
miliarity with these marvels, and the petrifying influence of such
continuous observation upon our feelings of wonder and admira
tion, we cannot rest contented with the slender knowledge which
we gain of them merely from the senses, that is, with a
record of their occurrence, and a description of their successive
changes and outward aspects. An irresistible impulse leads us
to inquire into their origin, meaning, and tendency. Whence
are they, and why do they exist ? Human science alone, with
out any aid from theology, without any light from above, has no
answer to these questions, and, when properly understood, does
not even attempt to answer them. It describes the phenomena,
as they are seen, with greater or less minuteness, it records the
order of their succession, and it assumes the invariability of this
order, or its continuance in the future and the past. It describes
and classifies facts, and supposes the existence of similar facts ;
imd this is all. With a kind of dim consciousness, indeed, that
these results do not exhaust the subject, or satisfy the demands
of rational curiosity, it holds up the laws of phenomena as sub
stitutes for their causes, in a vain attempt to explain their origin.
But these physical causes, as they are termed, cannot pass for
real ones ; for the manner in which an event takes place does
not show the reason of its occurrence, or give us any informa
tion of the power that produced it.
How our view of nature is affected by a knowledge of its Au
thor. The great fact of the existence of an omnipresent and
ever-active Deity, the author, supporter, and immediate cause
of all things, affords the only possible answer to these inquiries,
the only key which will open the secrets and the mysteries of
the universe. That this doctrine first gives distinctness to our
conceptions by explaining the fact of creation, or the origin of
things, is an insufficient statement of its importance ; it solves
the far more difficult problem respecting the continuance, mean
ing, and tendency of those objects and events which mere human
science only observes and records. It answers the questions
why and wherefore for all the phenomena of time and space.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 217
Adaptations now reveal a purpose ; nice adjustments show de
sign. We are not limited now to a mere description of the organ,
and of the office which it actually performs ; we can point to its
Creator, and tell why it exists, and what object it was intended
to answer. We can assume beforehand that every thing, down
to the minutest fibre of the humblest organism, has a purpose,
or a final cause,* since infinite wisdom does nothing in vain.
We can even assume that creation is formed throughout upon
one plan, and directed by a single purpose ; and we find that
this is an intelligible plan, a discoverable purpose. Here is not
only a positive enlargement of our knowledge, but a guide and
object for our subsequent inquiries. Those who reject the doc
trine which furnishes this guide may content themselves, if they
can, with those limitations which so eminent a naturalist as
Geoffrey St. Hilaire proposed for the bounds of his studies.
" I take good care," he says, " not to ascribe any intention to
God, for I mistrust the feeble powers of my reason. I observe
facts merely, and go no further. I only pretend to the character
of the historian of what is. I cannot make nature an intelli
gent being who does nothing in vain." This is the frank avowal
* The use of the phrase final cause, to express the end, purpose, or inten
tion for which a thing is made or done, has been so long established by
philosophical writers, that it would savor of affectation to renounce it
altogether. Yet as Mr. De Morgan remarks, to talk of final causes is as
unintelligible to most persons as to talk of final beginnings.
To understand the phrase, we must remember that the word cause was
used by the ancients in a very wide sense,corresponding to the causa of the
Latins, the cosa of the Italians, and the chose of the French ; it signified the
matter or concern which is transacted, spoken, written, or contended about.
To remove the indefiniteness arising from this comprehensive significa
tion, Aristotle properly distinguished four sorts of causes, (French, choses,
English, things) ; he distinguished material, formal, efficient, and final (Latin,
finis, English, end) causes. The material cause is the very matter out of
which a thing is made, considered as the principle of its existence ; the
formal cause is the internal constitution of a thing that which makes it
what it is ; the efficient cause corresponds to the English use of the word,
as it signifies the maker or author of a thing, or that which really pro
duces it ; the final cause, as we have said, is the end or purpose for which
it was made. To understand the difference between material and formal
19
218 THE ARGUMENT FEOM DESIGN.
of the skeptic who is willing to remain in his ignorance, even
after the brilliant discoveries of Cuvier had shown the fruitful-
ness of the opposite mode of inquiry.
Physical events, as they appear to the theologian and the skeptic.
Still more striking and important is the change made in our
notiDns of the succession of events, by this doctrine of the con
stant presence and agency of the Supreme Being. The power
that operates in nature is no longer unseen and undiscoverable ;
physical occurrences do not follow each other by any inscrutable
mechanism, or by a blind and unconscious fatality. In the
countless aspects and ceaseless changes of the world without us,
we no longer behold the fortuitous concourse of atoms, self-
governed, yet bound one to another by inexorable necessity,
and forming an adamantine chain, that is nowhere held up or
sustained save by a dim abstraction, where
" Chaos umpire sits,
And by decision more embroils the fray
By which he reigns : next him, high arbiter,
Chance governs all."
causes, we must attend to the ancient distinction between the matter and
the form of a thing ; this is admirably illustrated, as follows, by Mr
Thomson, in his Outline of the Laws of Thought, page 22.
" A statue may be considered as consisting of two parts, the marble
out of which it is hewn, which is its matter or stuff, and the form which
the artist communicates. The latter is essential to the statue, but not
the former, since the work might be the same, though the material were
different ; but if the^/orm were wanting, we could not even call the work a
statue. This notion, of a material susceptible of a certain form, the
accession of which shall give it a new nature and name, may be analogi
cally transferred to other natures. Space may be regarded as matter, and
geometrical figures as the form impressed in it. The voice is the matter of
speech, and articulation the form. But as it is the form which proxi-
mately and obviously makes the thing what it is, (although there can be
no form without matter,) the word form came to be interchanged with
essence and with nature."
We may explain the four sorts of causes thus. The material cause of
the paper on which I am now writing, is the pulp of rags out of which
it was made ; its formal cause is its peculiar texture and other proper
ties, which entitle it to the name of paper ; its efficient cause is the paper-
maker ; its final cause is to be written upon.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 219
Mind resumes its dominion over the vast expanse, and drives
these spectres back to their native realm of ignorance and
eldest Night. Every event, from the blossoming of the tiniest
flower up to the swift flight of the stars in their courses,
becomes as intelligible to man as his own voluntary move
ments. The contest between mind and matter ceases ; spirit
animates, moves, and governs all, with a beneficent and dis
coverable purpose, and with infinite wisdom. The observation
of the inherent laws of material atoms now becomes the study
of the character, intentions, and will of Him who created the
heavens and the earth, and laid the corner-stone thereof.
Theology is the complement and extension of physical science.
The great truths of natural theology, then, not only rest upon
the same proofs which support -our conclusions in physical
science, but they enter into that science as an integral portion
of it, as its necessary complement and extension up to the
farthest limits which are imposed upon it by the imperfection
of our faculties. They are among the facts obtained from our
observation of nature, or among the legitimate inferences
which are drawn from those facts. They are a portion of the
results derived from the strict application of the inductive
method to the study of nature, and they are therefore properly
recorded with the other conclusions of physical science, among
its most valuable contributions to the sum of human knowledge.
Certain marks and indentations in red sandstone are held to
prove, beyond all question, the existence at some very remote
period of a species of birds, of which not one bone or other
fragment has ever been discovered, and which must have been
wholly unlike any winged creature that now inhabits the earth
or air. In like manner, certain arrangements and adaptations
in the body of a living animal afford abundant indications of
purpose and contrivance, and so prove the wisdom and good
ness of the great Cause that brought the animal into being.
There is no difference between the inferences drawn in these
two cases, except that the latter is the more simple, direct, and
unquestionable ; it rests upon a more copious induction, and it is
certainly more credible that a fortuitous conjunction of other
220 THE ARGUMENT PROM DESIGN.
circumstances should have caused certain marks or scratches
on a rock, than that an unintelligent and undesigning power
should have fashioned so delicate and complex an instrument
as the human eye. It is as much the object and duty of science
to note and record these indications of intellect and design,
as to distinguish fossil remains from the mere inorganic rock in
which they are imbedded. The mere description of the object
or phenomenon is incomplete without them.*
Physical science stops short of efficient causation. So, also,
if the study of nature, so far as it relates to the course of events,
is mainly occupied with distinguishing invariable antecedents
from those which are casual and temporary, it is concerned,
also, to point out such antecedents as are really causal and
necessary, and so invariable.- The operation of efficient causes
is even in a higher degree an object of rational inquiry and
effort, than the succession of physical causes, provided always
that the distinction between them be kept clearly in view, and
the one class be not confounded with the other. Our own
consciousness gives us a knowledge of one true cause, in the
mastery of the human will over the body with which it is con
nected. As anthropology, or the science of man, would be
incomplete without a discussion of this capital fact, so physical
* Dr. Whewell remarks, that even the " physiologists who look with
suspicion and dislike upon the introduction of Final Causes into physi
ology, have still been unable to exclude from their speculations causes
of this kind. Thus Bichat, after noting the difference between the or
ganic sensibility, by which the organs are made to perform their offices,
and the animal sensibility, of which the nervous centre is the seat, says,
No doubt it will be asked why that is, as we shall see, for what end
the organs of internal life have received from nature an inferior degree
of sensibility only, and why they do not transmit to the brain those impres
sions which they receive, while all the acts of the animal life imply this
transmission ? The reason is simply this, that all the phenomena which
establish our connections with surrounding objects ought to be, and are in
fact, Tinder the influence of the will; while all those which serve the purpose
of assimilation only, escape, and ought indeed to escape, such influence !
The reason here assigned is the Final Cause, which, as Bichat justly
says, we cannot help asking for." Phil of the Ind. Set. Vol II. p. 626.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 221
science, or the study of nature, is imperfect, and even baseless,
if it stops short of the modes of operation of that single Power
which sustains, animates, and governs all. The conclusions of
the theological inquirer, therefore, in their lower aspect, form
a part, a large constituent element, .of the great body of scientific
truth which man derives from a study of the material and the
intellectual universe ; in their lower aspect, I say, for this fact
would hardly merit notice, except from its relation to my pres
ent purpose, which is to show the nature of the evidence upon
which these conclusions rest.
The scientific value of theological truths inferior to their moral
worth. Our chief interest in these results "does not depend
merely on their scientific value, as additions to the sum of
human knowledge, but on their religious bearing and their ap
plicability to the government of our hearts and lives. The
truths thus far established lead us only to the opening of that
great subject which stretches out over the whole field of our
duties and hopes as intelligent, moral, and accountable beings.
Though the discussion in this work has been strictly confined to
the validity of the common argument for the being of a God. so
far as this is affected by the metaphysical theories and specula
tions now most in vogue, and has thus only prepared the way for
an inquiry into the whole system of Natural Religion, it has still
conducted us to some results which are profitable for reflection
and practice. " Of all habits of thinking, the most important to
be cultivated is that of referring all the phenomena of nature
up to their infinite Creator, and of regarding all events, whether
physical or moral, as caused or governed by an ever-watchful
and active Providence. To have .made this the ruling, the
habitual sentiment of our minds, is to have laid the foundation
of every thing which is religious. The world thencefortji be
comes a temple, and life itself one continued act of adoration."
The philosophical doctrine of the immediate agency of the Deity,
is that which harmonizes most perfectly with the religious sen
timent in man, and gives most satisfaction and support to the
devotional spirit. It strengthens the belief in revelation, as the
course of all physical events is seen to be directed with a moral
19*
222 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
purpose ; and the blind domain of physical laws and material
necessity being broken, a direct interposition of God in the
affairs of men becomes not only credible, but natural, and what
we should most readily expect from infinite goodness and wis
dom combined. We pass on, therefore, from the study of his
works to that of his word, not by an abrupt or violent transition,
but gradually, and with a distinct recognition of the unity of his
character, and of the similarity of plan by which he governs the
physical and moral universe, and proclaims his existence and
bis will to the creatures whom he has made.
SECOND PART.
CHAPTER I.
THE HUMAN DISTINGUISHED FROM THE BRUTE MIND.
Statement of the subject. We have finished a brief view of
the ordinary argument for the being of a God. But the
establishment of this truth alone, though it is the central doc
trine of Natural Religion, and all the others depend upon it, still
leaves us at the threshold of the subject. We have still to
ascertain the character or attributes under which the Deity has
manifested himself to mankind, and to learn if these are such as
to create an obligation on our part to conform to his will.
Obedience may be yielded either from involuntary awe, or blind
submission to absolute and infinite power, or from veneration for
perfect wisdom and holiness, and a mingled sentiment of duty,
gratitude, and love. The prevalence of one or another of these
motives will depend on the views which we may form of the
TKvine nature ; and the peculiarity of the dominant motive will
modify and shape the whole religious character.
It is but a part of the same inquiry to ask what the Divine
will is, or what we are required to do, or to refrain from doing,
from a regard to the relations in which we stand to God and
M our fellow man. Apart from direct revelation, with which
at present we have nothing to do, the will of the Deity can be
(223)
224 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
inferred only from a knowledge of his character, and this can
be learned in no other way than by the study of his works.
His moral attributes, with which we are now chiefly concerned,
are made known to us almost exclusively through the con
stitution of our own moral nature ; and accordingly, the study
of this nature, or of the ethical constitution of man, must be our
chief guide in the present inquiry, j As the former Part related
mainly to things physical, or to what is taught us of the being
and agency of God by the phenomena of the outward universe, so,
in the present discussion, the nature and functions of conscience,
and the analysis of our sense of moral obligation, must enable
us to frame our conceptions of religious duty. This will be the
principal aim and tendency of the investigation ; incidentally,
as before, we must seek for illustrations of the will and character
of the Deity from the outward and visible things that he has
made.
Basis of the inquiry. What was attempted to be proved in
the former discussion will now be taken for granted ; and this
includes, you will remember, not only the existence of God, but
his incessant and omnipresent action in the universe. Both the
creation of things and the direction of events are his ; the
fashioning of our bodies, the constitution of our minds, and
the endowment of our moral nature, are alike the effects of his
wisdom and appointment ; and the reasoning from effect to
cause, which was proved to be legitimate in the case already
considered, must be applicable in all others. Even the attri
bute of freewill, in respect to which man alone is created in the
likeness of his Maker, is his gift ; and the possession of it is an
indication of his will that it should be exercised. We are free
to choose between the evil and the good ; and this freedom pre
supposes opportunities for choice ; it requires that the alterna
tive should be presented to us, or it would be a delusion and a
mockery. The promptings of conscience are as clear an indi-,
/cation of the moral judgments of God, as the instincts of ani-/
mals, the processes of vegetable life, and the structure of the J
heavens are of his being and his power. In both cases, we
reason from the thing that is created and finite to the self-exist
ent and infinite Cause.
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 225
Tlie study of human nature is our starting point. Among
the works of creation, the study of which leads us up to a
knowledge of the being and attributes of God, the foremost
place is occupied by man hims elf. We are ourselves his off
spring, creatures whom he has endowed with a peculiar physi
cal, intellectual, and moral organization, the properties and
tendencies of which reflect the character and purposes of our
Maker. The marvellous structure of our bodies, these tene
ments of clay which we inhabit for a season, shows his wisdom,
his constant agency, his designing care ; so also the constitution
of our minds, the laws by which our sensations, ideas, and
judgments are formed and made to succeed each other, are so
many tokens of the Divine will and character. They show
what part God intended we should act upon the theatre of the
universe. Still further, in our moral nature, or the emotions
that are excited in us by the sight of surrounding objects and
events, and especially by the contemplation of our own acts,
and of those of our fellow beings, we find our only means of
knowing what the moral attributes of God are, and what, if
any, is his scheme of moral government. Practically speaking,
we are concerned to know, not so much what things are in
themselves, as the manner in which we are affected by the sight
of them, and by living in the midst of them. The fitness of
objects to give pleasure to man depends equally on the charac
teristic qualities of those objects, and on the susceptibility of the
human mind to pleasure of one kind rather than another, and
indeed on its capacity of being pleased at all.
The true end and aim of man s existence. We come, there
fore, to an examination of the nature and functions of con
science, as the first point of our inquiry. My object yrill be to
show, that man is not merely an intellectual being, placed here on
earth to satisfy his curiosity, and to provide for his own well-
being. This would be a conceivable end of his creation, but it
is notoriously not the real end. If he had the intellectual facul
ties of an archangel, and this earth were a paradise for his
habitation, affording every object that could gratify his desires
and promote his happiness, if enjoyment brought no satiety,
226 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
and labor no fatigue, if his birth were only an introduction to
active pleasure, and death were nothing but painless extinc
tion, then we could easily attribute unlimited benevolence to
his Creator, and consider that man s only purpose in life was to
pass on from one phase of happiness to another. Why is it,
that we do not regard this as the actual, or even as a desirable,
plan of human existence ? It is only an obscure reference to
such a scheme which lends any force, or indeed any meaning,
to the oft-repeated complaints about the existence of evil under
the government of a God of infinite benevolence. Yet when
such a plan of life is presented for us to contemplate at once
in its entireness, we almost instinctively reject it, as not admit
ting the existence of those qualities which now constitute the
true ornament and dignity of human nature, and as making no
provision for their cultivation, even if they did exist. A more
authoritative principle than sglf-love declares to us, that the
practice of virtue is higher than the pursuit of enjoyment, that
holiness is more desirable than happiness, and that the Divine
government, in so far as it shows infinite justice and benevolence
combined, and affords scope for progress and effort, as well as
for the gratification of desires ending in self, is in truth the
noblest conceivable expression of the wisdom and goodness of
God.
The contrast between man and the brute. To prove this
point, and to show by contrast the true nature of the moral
faculty in man, I propose to go some way back, and to examine
the only case within the sphere of human observation where in
tellectual are not combined with moral qualities, and where, con
sequently, enjoyment for the time must be regarded as the sole end
of existence. I refer, of course, to the mental constitution of
brutes, or of all orders of animated being which are inferior to
man. The subject is confessedly an obscure one ; but I doubt
not that enough of it may be made out with certainty to answer
all the purposes of this discussion. If the investigation should
lead to the establishment of a broad distinction between man
and the brute, so as to show that the mental endowments of the
latter differ from those of the former, not in degree only, but in
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 227
kind, this will be a collateral advantage, which will help us to
clear up some other difficulties in our subject.
How far we can know the nature of brutes. Let me limit
the object and extent of the inquiry in the outset. With respect
either to the human or the brute mind, we can only ask what it
does ; it would be idle to inquire what it is, for we are ignorant
of the inward nature, the essential constitution, of both. In
the one case, it is true, we have the aid of consciousness,
while in the other we are restricted to external observation.
But why that unit of being which we call man, or mind, should
have one set of powers and susceptibilities rather than another,
is a question which mere physical or metaphysical science does
not pretend to answer, otherwise than by saying, that such is
the will of his Creator; the moralist or the theologian may
here come in, and show the reasonableness of that will, but even
he cannot tell how it is carried into effect. In the case of
the brute, of course, we can only look at its outward acts, and
thence dimly infer its peculiarities of mental organization.
Now there is no action whatever, considered merely as a
visible fact, as an exercise of nerves and muscles, which many
brutes cannot perform nearly or quite as well as men. They
walk, leap, run, and climb ; they eat, drink, and continue their
species ; they weep, cry, and even articulate. From their out
ward acts alone, then, it seems impossible to deduce the charac
teristic feature of their mental nature. Luckily, a third ques
tion remains to us, the answer to which directly involves the
subject of our present inquiry, while it appears to be within the
reach of human investigation. In regard either to instinct or
intelligence,* though we cannot tell what it is, we may ascertain
what it is not. As we affirm confidently that mind is not
material, so we may find sure reason to believe that it is radi
cally different from instinct. And to establish this point is
my first object.
Instinct is not mechanism. It is first necessary to deter
mine the meaning of the word instinct, or to ascertain what
phenomena are properly considered as instinctive. Some
writers speak of " physical instincts," among which they class
228 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
the beating of the heart, the movements of respiration, the
peristaltic motion of the intestines, and the like. But as these
motions are regular and involuntary, they are more properly
regarded as automatic, or mechanical,* and are classed with the
phenomena of organic life rather than with those of instinct,
especially as operations corresponding to them, or exactly
similar, are carried on in vegetables. The touch of an insect
alighting on the common flower called Venus s Fly-trap causes
its sides to spring forcibly together, so as to catch and hold the
intruder, whose struggles only increase the pressure of this self-
acting trap. Such movements resemble, not the actions of a
bird in building its nest, but the motions of wheels which are
dependent on the uncoiling of a spring or the falling of a
weight.
Reflex nervous action distinguished from instinct. Recent
discoveries in physiology have established the existence of what
is called a reflex action in certain nerves, by which, without
any sensation being communicated to the brain, and conse
quently without any effort of the will, an impression made upon
the end of a nerve is transmitted to the spinal cord, and is
thence sent back again, as it were, along one of the motor
nerves to its extremity, producing there a contraction of the
muscles, of which the required or appropriate movement of
the limb or organ is the consequence. Isolate this pair of nerves
entirely, by cutting off its communication, not only with the
head, but with the upper and lower portions of the spinal
* To avoid misconception, I may here mention, once for all, that I use
the common phraseology that is founded on the mechanical theory of
nature s operations, or the doctrine of secondary causes, but without de-
mitting the truth of that theory. In the former Part, I endeavored to
prove that all action or change in the purely material creation, must de
attributed to the immediate agency of the Creator. Still, for the con
venience of speech, to avoid circumlocution and incessant reference to this
doctrine, I continue to use the language that is sanctioned by universal
custom, though it is derived from what seems to me a wholly unphilo-
sophical and mistaken view of the operations of nature and the sphere of
Divine action. It is easy to bear in mind the constant qualification, or
protest, under which this phraseology is adopted.
. THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 229
column, reserving only a segment of this column to connect the
excitor with the motor nerve, and the reflex movement may still
be produced. A decapitated frog remains at rest till it is
touched ; and then its leg, or even its whole body, is thrown
into sudden but momentary action. Cases have occurred in
which the spinal cord of a man was so far injured, by disease
or accident, that there was no voluntary control of the lower
limbs, and not even any sensation in them; but if stimuli
were applied to the feet, by tickling or pinching them, or apply
ing a hot plate, the muscles of the leg instantly contracted,
and with some violence ; and this without the patient having
any sensation, either of the cause of the movement, or of the
movement itself; in fact, without his knowing it.
Of this nature is the action of swallowing, which is excited
by the contact of food or liquid with the back part of the
mouth, and then takes place in spite of any effort on our part
to prevent it. " Even the respiratory movements," says Dr.
Carpenter, u spontaneous as they seem to be, would not con
tinue unless they were excited by the presence of venous blood
in the vessels, especially in those of the lungs. These move
ments are all necessarily linked with the stimulus that excites
them ; that is, the same stimulus will always produce the same
movement, when the condition of the body is the same. Hence
it is evident, that the judgment or will is not concerned in pro
ducing them ; but they may be rather compared to the move
ments of an automaton, which are produced by touching cer
tain springs."*
* As the reflex action of the nerves had not been discovered, I believe,
when Dugald Stewart published (1826) the third volume of his Elements
of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, he has some excuse for maintain
ing that the operations, not only of suction and swallowing, but of res
piration, must be ascribed to instinct. But his doctrine now appears even
less plausible than that of Dr. Darwin, who gravely supposes that the
foetus learns to swallow by its experience in utero. Stewart mentions the
fact, that thirty pairs of muscles must be employed in every draught, and
seems to believe that a distinct volition is required for the movement of
each pair ; though the well-known facts respecting the catenation of the
20
230 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
The object of all such mechanical and involuntary motions i
to supply the imperative wants of the body, and to preserve it
from the injuries to which it is most frequently exposed. The
watchfulness of the animal is not sufficient for its own preserva
tion ; the want of care, quickness, and decision in the control
of the w r ill is thus compensated by a mechanical contrivance, a
spontaneous movement, which repels the danger, or satisfies the
want, before we are conscious of its existence* A beautiful in
stance of this is the instantaneous and automatic movement of
the eyelids, by which so delicate an organ as the eye is pre
served from sudden injury. The slightest stimulus causes them
to close, even the flash of powder having this effect before the
flame can reach the eyeball. It would be an abuse of language
to apply the same name to a contrivance like this, and to the
marvellous instinct that guides the migrating bird, at the proper
season, in its long flight to its winter home.
Instinct distinguished from the appetites. Besides these
mechanical operations, or organic functions of life, which are
common to the animal and vegetable kingdom, though they are
more numerous and more complex in the former, I exclude the
simple appetites and passions from the class of instincts properly
so called. These appetites have been called instinctive, because
they seek their own gratification without the aid of reason, and
often in spite of it. They are common to man and the brute;
but they differ, at least in one important respect, from those
instincts of the lower animals which are usually contrasted with
human reason. The objects towards which they are directed
are prized for their own sake ; they are sought as ends, while
muscular actions might hare convinced him of the absurdity of such a
theory. His naive astonishment, that an infant, as soon as it comes into
the world, should know how to " perform with the most perfect success the
function of respiration, a function which requires the alternate contrac
tion and relaxation of certain muscles in a regular order and succession/
is certainly an amusing instance of this weakness. He might just as
well have been surprised that it should know how to keep up the circulation
of the blood in its tender limbs ; for the will of the infanfc has certainly as
much to do in this case as in that of respiration.
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 231
Instinct teaches brutes to do many things which are needed only
as means for the attainment of some ulterior purpose. Thus,
instinct enables a spider to entrap his prey, while appetite only
leads him to devour it while in his possession. Nay, the two
impulses often act in opposition to each other, as when the bird
restrains its own hunger for the sake of feeding its young.
Appetite is blind and affords a motive, but no guidance, for
effort ; instinct, on the other hand, often supplies an object for
action, though it is more frequently indebted for this to appetite,
and always points out the course for its attainment. It is true,
that appetite sometimes appears to direct the choice ; yet so far
only as the absence or presence of it leads the animal to reject
unsuitable food, and to devour that which is adapted to its
physical constitution. That a dog will not eat hay, nor a horse
swallow raw meat, is no more a proof of instinct than the cor
responding fact in man, that sweet things are pleasant to the
taste, while bitter are disagreeable, is an indication of reason.
It is evident that the appetites have been called instinctive,
only because they are not acquired by experience or instruction ;
they are innate. But this is far from being the only character
istic of what are usually termed the instincts of the lower ani
mals, which often lead to complex and prolonged tasks, involving
a constant sacrifice of their natural desires and inclinations.
Instinct is marvellous and inscrutable in its operations, as much
so as reason itself. But that the appetites have their appro
priate objects, and reject all others, is no special cause for
wonder, any more than the fact, that glass transmits light, while
it is impervious to air. Such is its original constitution.
Definition of instinct. How may we define instinct, then,
as distinguished from appetite on the one hand, and from reason
on the other, as all three are motives or guides to action ? It
is an impulse conceived without instruction, and prior to all ex
perience, to perform certain acts which are not needed for the
immediate gratification of the agent, which in fact are often op-
posed to it, and are useful only as means for the attainment of
some ulterior object ; and this object is usually one of preemi
nent utility or necessity, either for the preservation of the ani-
232 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
mal s own life, or for the continuance of its species. The for
mer quality separates it from intelligence, properly so called,
which proceeds only by experience or instruction ; and the lat
ter is its peculiar trait as distinguished from appetite, which, in
strictness, uses no means at all, but looks only to ends.*
In the remainder of what I have to offer, it will be my object
to show, first, that instinct is distinguishable from reason by
many other peculiarities, which are so obvious and striking,
that we must admit the difference between the tAvo attributes to
be radical or essential, a difference not in degree, but in kind ;
secondly, that all animals inferior to man are guided in a greater
or less degree, if not entirely, by instinct, while\man is never
subject to it, but is governed exclusively by reason, the
effects of mechanical contrivances, and of mere appetites, or
blind desires and inclinations] which are confessedly common to
man and the brute, having been set aside for reasons already
mentioned ; and thirdly, that [the lower animals, because their
highest attribute is instinct, have no moral character whatever,
and consequently do not merit praise or blame,J so that their
actions, and the scheme or plan of their existence, show us what
* "All those acts of animals are instinctive which, though performed
voluntarily, do not depend primarily on the mere will of the animal ; they
have an object according with the wants of the organism, but this object is
unknown to the animal ; the hidden cause incites the brute to the neces
sary acts, by presenting to it the theme of the voluntary movements to
be executed in detail by the influence of the will. We are ourselves con
scious only of feelings and impulses to determinate acts. The number of
instinctive acts is great in animals in proportion to their incapability of
accomplishing by their own mental powers the design for which their spe
cies was created." Muller s Physiology, p. 946.
Hence, as Dr. Holland remarks, the two great faculties of reason and
instinct exist in an inverse ratio to each other. " In man, instincts, prop
erly so called, form the minimum in relation to reason. They multiply
continually, and become more distinct in character, as we descend in the
scale ; their completeness in reference to the life of the individual, increas
ing in the same ratio as the intelligence becomes less." He adds, " as a
further proof of the inverse perfection of intellect and instinct, that the
class of insects, in whom these instinctive functions are most strikingly
manifested, appears to rank very low in the scale of intelligence."
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 233
man would be, if he was deprived of the ethical part of his
nature, and thus, in the higher meaning of the phrase, not sub
ject to the moral government of God. The general conclusion
will be, that the animal as well as the vegetable creation, like
inorganic things, and the course of merely physical events, are
not ends in the Divine government, but means, the leading pur
pose of all being the moral education and government of man.
Instinct acts without instruction or experience. And first, it-
will not be necessary to use many words to prove that instinct,
unlike reason, acts without instruction or experience. Chick
ens hatched by steam, which have never seen any older birds
of the same species, perform all the duties of incubation and
feeding their young as perfectly as if they had been the con
stant objects of Dame Partlet s care in their own callow in
fancy. Insects born only after the death of their parents still
run the little cycle of their appointed tasks, and make provision
for their own future progeny, which they are never to see, with
as much labor and foresight as were exercised in preparing and
storing their own cradles. The moth, with great care, collects
food of a kind which it never uses for itself, as a provision for
its young when in a transition state. Certain insects, govern
ing for the moment their own appetites, which would lead them
to devour their food as soon as found, store up in subterranean
cells a provision for the coming winter, though as yet, in their
short life, they have experienced only the warmth and abun
dance of summer and autumn. In all these cases, there is no
opportunity for experience, and no sourc% of instruction ; and
the end attained is one that is essential for the preservation of
the species.
" Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore
Heavens not his own, and worlds not known before 1
Who calls the councils, states the certain day ?
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way ? "
Instinct not susceptible of improvement. The next peculi
arity of instinct, a neoessary consequence of the one already
noticed, is, that it is not susceptible of improvement or educa
tion. It is complete from the beginning ; it makes no progress
20*
284 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
either in the individual or the race. The bee, as soon after its
disclosure from the pupa as its body is dried and its wings ex
panded, takes its part in the labors of the little commonwealth
with as much apparent activity and efficiency as its elders. It
collects honey and builds a cell as adroitly in the first, as in the
last, hour of its existence. And so it is with the species ; the
internal economy of a hive was just as marvellous in the days
of Aristotle and Virgil, as in those of Huber, The reported
cases of greater docility shown by the offspring of trained ani
mals, than by the young of the same species when in their wild
state, can all be explained from the fact, that most quadrupeds
and birds are more or less prone to imitate the habits of those
around them, so that they become more teachable by observ
ing, from the moment of birth, the movements of the elder ani
mals. ,
/ Instinct within its sphere transcends reason.j- It is impor
tant to observe that the power of instinct, in~nrany cases, quite
transcends that of reason ; if it differs from human intelligence,
not in kind, but in degree only, it is undoubtedly the superior.
Man may go to school to the dog, the swallow, and the bee, but
he can never equal his teacher. Let him attempt, for instance,
without the aid of any tools or machinery, and with the utmost
economy of space and material, to construct a symmetrical hex
agonal cell, closed at one end by a trihedral pyramid, each side
of which is a rhombus, with its obtuse angles measuring pre
cisely 109 28 , and its acute angles 70 32 . Without instru
ments or a pattern, Mfe probably could not cut out such a rhom
bus with perfect accuracy after a thousand trials. But the bee
does this before it is a day old. And in this statement of the
task, the greatest difficulty of all is left out of it ; we have
solved the most abstruse problem in it, in order to make the
performance more easy. In order to make the cell with as lit
tle wax and space as possible, it is necessary that the angles of
the rhombus should have precisely these dimensions, and no
other. It was only after the invention of the integral calculus
that man was able to determine the angles required for this pur
pose, or, in other words, to discover how far the wisdom of the
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 235
bee transcends his own. In Virgil s time, the bee was wiser
than the greatest human mathematician of its day.
Those who are familiar with the habits of animals can pro
duce a multitude of other instances to show the vast superiority
of instinct, in its proper and limited sphere, over the best efforts
of human reason ; especially when we make the proper qualifi
cation, that the animal usually works without instruments of
any kind, except those furnished in its own body, which affords
nothing to be compared, in point of convenience, with the human
hand. But I give one other case, which needs not this qualifi
cation; it is found in the explanation of the proverbial phrase,
"a bee line." Remove a man blindfold several miles from
his home, by a route with which he is entirely unacquainted,
and require him to return to his own door by a mathematically
straight line. The bee will do so ; but a man s path under
such circumstances would probably be rather crooked. And
the difference between them cannot be explained on the sup
position of the insect s greater sharpness of vision, or by the
greater elevation at which it flies ; let the hive be in the midst
of a forest, so that the intervening trees hide it when one is a
rod off in any direction, and the bee still flies straight to its
home,
" But honest Instinct comes, a volunteer,"
Sure never to o ershoot, but just to hit ;
While still too wide, or short, is human wit."
Instinct works in a narrow sphere. The consideration of
this manifest preeminence of instinct, in its limited sphere, over
reason, was necessary, in order to put in a proper light the next
peculiarity of it which I have to notice, and which certainly
divides it by a very broad line from any thing in the mental
constitution of man. I Instinct is limited to a very few ends,
mostly to those which are essential to the preservation of the ;
animal itself, or of its species. It works in a prescribed and
narrow path, to accomplish these purposes and no others ; its
methods are invariable, or nearly so, its power of adapting it
self to circumstances being confined within a very narrow range.
Take the animal out of its sphere, and its mental endowments
236 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
cease to be even comparable with those of man. It falls infi
nitely far below him. The bee, which in certain tasks seems
wiser than a Euclid or an Arkwright, is, when compelled to
labor for any other purpose than that for which nature has spe
cifically adapted it, more stupid than an idiot. If one acciden
tally flies into a room through the lower half of an open window,
and, seeking to return, happens to strike against the glass above,
it will continue buzzing about and knocking its head against the
same pane oftentimes for an hour, though it would find free
egress a few inches below.
Instinct does not adapt itself to circumstances. Again, the
instinct often continues to act when the occasion for its exercise
has ceased, so that its operations are unmeaning and purpose
less. Thus, a squirrel, imprisoned in a wire cage, if it has re
ceived more nuts than its appetite craves for the moment, will
scratch diligently at the bottom of its cage, and then place a
nut upon the spot ; in this way showing the continuance of
the instinct which was needed only in its wild state, and its
litter ignorance of the effect of a change of circumstances. A
still more curious instance is that of the beaver, whose instincts
seem more closely than those of any other animal to simulate
human reason. " The building instinct," says Dr. Carpenter,
" shows itself even when the beaver is in captivity, and in cir
cumstances in which it can be of no use. A half-domesticated
individual, in the possession of Mr. Broderip, began to build as
soon as it was let out of its cage, and materials were placed in
its way. Even when it was only half-grown, it would drag
along a large sweeping-brush, or warming-pan, grasping the
handle with its teeth, so that the load came over its shoulder ;
and would endeavor to lay this with other materials, in the
mode employed by the beaver when in a state of nature. The
long and large materials were always taken first ; and two of
the longest were generally laid crosswise, with one of the ends
of each touching the wall, and the other ends projecting out into
the room. The area formed by the cross brushes and the wall
he would fill up with boots, books, sticks, dried turf, or any thing
portable. He would often, after laying on one of his building
THE NATURE OP INSTINCT. 237
materials, sit up over against it, appearing to consider his work,
or, as the country people say, to judge it ; this pause was
sometimes followed by changing the material judged, and some
times it was left in its place. After he had piled up his mate
rials in one part of the room, for he generally chose the same
place, he proceeded to wall up the space between the feet of a
chest of drawers which stood at a little distance from it, high
enough on its legs to make the bottom a roof for him ; using for
this purpose dried turf and sticks, which he laid very even, and
filling up the interstices with bits of coal, hay, cloth, or any
thing he could pick up. This last place he seemed to appro
priate for his dwelling ; the former work seemed to be intended
for a dam."
" Other animals are, in like manner, occasionally conducted
by their instincts to the performance of actions equally irrational,
and quite incapable of answering the purpose which the partic
ular instinct is destined to serve." In all that goes beyond the
sensations of the present moment, in every thing that relates to
the future, and therefore requires the use of means, which in a
human being would imply sagacity and foresight, the several
classes of brutes do one thing in only one way. Following that
narrow path, they appear like prodigies of wisdom; remove
them ever so little from it, and they again become brutes.
J[n this respect, the parallel between the human and the brute
mind fails entirely ; instinct is no longer to be compared with
reason, but with a machine. The analogy here is perfect ; a
jenny or a mule can spin yarn much better than man could with
the aid only of his fingers ; but it cannot card, weave, or dress ;
it can do nothing but spin. A machine performs a single task,
usually with wonderful speed, neatness, and precision ; but its
utility is limited to this single purpose. So a bee constructs its
combs with admirable art ; but it cannot build a hive, or house
for these combs. It cannot fashion a paper house, like the
wasp, or dig subterranean chambers for its home, like the ant.
But the pliability of the human mind, its power of adapting
itself to circumstances, is one of its most marvellous attributes.
Sagacity shown in one case is a good test of general ability for
238 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
all occasions. Increased facility in performing particular tasks
is acquired by habit ; but the mind is master also of its habits,
forming or destroying them at pleasure.
Instinct capable of a few adjustments. I do not say that in
stinct is the action of a machine, but only that it resembles this
action more nearly than it does the curious, flexible, and far-
reaching operations of reason. In one respect, it is like a cun
ningly devised engine which admits of several adjustments, so
that, though it still performs but one kind of work, it allows of a
few variations in its pattern and fabric. These variations are lim
ited in extent, and never amount to a change of the main ob
jects in view; but if accident, or man s device, interferes with
the animal s ordinary mode of attaining that object, it will often
slightly modify the operation, so as to get rid of the difficulty.*
# Sometimes it is essential for the purpose which the particular instinct
is designed to answer, that there should be a certain degree of flexibility
in that instinct. Thus, a certain kind of spider always spins a circular
web, and must therefore have the power of affixing threads of different
lengths to different portions of the circumference, wherewith to attach the
web to the variously shaped openings in a wall, or among the branches of
a tree or shrub, within which the web is to be supported. The marvellous
power of instinct is often strikingly shown in the different expedients
which this spider uses, to attach the web to the supports in its neighbor
hood with the greatest economy of labor and material. I once saw such a
web, not more than six inches in diameter, which the spider had placed in
one of the upper corners of an opening, about three feet long and two feet
high, in the wall of a shed. Half of the circumference, it was obvious, was
easily supported by prolonging a few of the radii a short distance, till they
met the two nearest sides of the opening in the angle of which the web
hung. But how was the opposite semi-circumference held up, without ex
tending its radii two or three feet, to meet the two further sides of the
opening ? Single threads of this great length would be very apt to be
broken, and could hardly be hauled taut enough to give the requisite stiff
ness to the fabric. On looking nearer to the web, however, I found that
the instinct of the spider had hit upon an expedient which had not at first
occurred to me. It had spun a stout thread diagonally across the angle
within which the web was hung, in the direction of a tangent to the outer
semi-circumference, and distant only an inch or two from the nearest point
of that circumference. Two or three guys, also, were attached to different
points of this diagonal thread, whence being carried to the adjacent sides
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 239
Thongh walking in a narrow path, it can still turn aside a little
to the right or the left, so as to avoid an obstruction in the way.
Honey-bees can alter their work just enough to avoid what
may be termed the ordinary casualties of the hive. When ex
traordinary disorders in the combs take place, Huber tells us
that they pull the grubs out of the cells to perish, demolish the
structure, and begin anew.*
Instinct compared with habiL Instincts have sometimes
been called innate habits, and the parallel thus indicated ap
pears a very just and striking one, Cuvier long ago remarked,
that animals guided by instinct appear, like a man in a dream,
of the opening, and hauled taut, they served to stiffen that diagonal.
Thus the circular web was inscribed in a triangle of the most convenient
size, two sides of which were formed by the angle of the opening in the
wall, while this ingeniously stiffened diagonal thread formed the third side.
Any observer, by examining closely some of these circular webs, which he
may find in any garden or neglected outhouse, will find various and
equally ingenious expedients adopted to fasten it firmly, and with the
greatest economy of material, to the nearest supports.
We have here, also, a good illustration both of an instinct s pliability
within a certain range, and of its fixedness for every thing which lies be
yond that range. The expedients for supporting a circular web must be
almost infinitely varied, according to the exigencies of the locality where
it is placed. But why does not this spider ever spin a triangular web, or
one of any other form, as other spiders do, and thus avoid all trouble in
suspending it in any place ?
* " Bees cemented their combs, when becoming heavy, to the top of the
hive with mitys, in the time of Aristotle and Pliny, as they do now ; and
there is every reason to believe that then, as now, they occasionally varied
their procedures, by securing them with wax or with propolis only, either
added to the upper range of cells, or disposed in braces and ties to the ad
joining combs. But if, in thus proceeding, they were guided by reason,
why not, under certain circumstances, adopt other modes of strengthening
their combs ? Why not, when wax and propolis are scarce, employ mud,
which they might see the martin avail herself of so successfully ? Or why
should it not come into the head of some hoary denizen of the hive, that a
little of the mortar with which his careful master plasters the crevices be
tween his habitation and its stand, might answer the end of mitys ? Si
seulement Us devoient unefois des cdbanes quarries, says Bonnet, when speak
ing as to what faculty the works of the beaver are to be referred ; mats
ce sont fterndlement des cdbanes rondes ou ovales. " Kirby and Spence.
240 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
to be haunted by one idea, or, like a somnambulist, to perform
a very difficult task without being conscious of it. In the
human mind, frequent repetition appears to unite the parts of
a long and complex mental process into one whole, so that the
several required volitions follow each other with as much order
and facility as if they were links of the same chain. There is
no delay in order to dwell on any part of the operation, and
consider what is to be done next. The needful step is sug
gested precisely at the right moment, and instantly performed,
so that no effort of the will seems to have been necessary, and
we say that the whole was done unconsciously. Thus, an ab
sent-minded man may undertake a long walk by a familiar path,
his mind being occupied all the while with some knotty subject
of thought, which has nothing to do with the cause of his excur
sion ; and he arrives safely at the desired point, without being
aware of the bodily exertion he has made, or of having attended
to any object on the road, or to a single incident of the journey.
There may have been several diverging routes, and he always
selected the right path, without being aware that he exercised
a choice. At each step, a distinct volition was required to lift
his foot from the ground ; but he was not conscious of any ex
ertion either of the will or the body. It seems as if there was
a latent idea in his mind, never rising into the sphere of con
sciousness, which still governed every motion of the will, and
brought out the desired result at last, though the man himself
was as ignorant of the process as if he had been a mere ma
chine.*
* " The effect of habit," says Dr. Holland, " in giving an automatic
character, almost like an instinct, to certain groups of muscular actions
as in speaking, walking, and the other numerous and complex movements
of the limbs is absolutely necessary to human existence, and admirably
suited to this necessity." In comparing Habits with Instincts, he after
wards observes, an essential point is their respective relation to the Will.
Instinct at first is independent of the Will, though afterwards often modi
fied by it ; on the other hand, the actions which were at first entirely con
trolled by the Will, as they become habitual, gradually lose this depen
dence, and at last seem wholly involuntary. " It is well worthy of note,
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 241
Instinct is unconscious of the ends it subserves. Now the
bee, in constructing a comb, works like a somnambulist, or like
this person laboring under absence of mind. It reflects not
upon the object of its labors ; for having had the experience but
of one season, or perhaps of one day, it knows not what that
object is. Foresight it has not, unless it be the foresight of a
god rather than a man ; for human foresight is nothing but the
reflection of past scenes upon the mirror of the future.
" The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood."
It is not conscious of design or contrivance ; for this implies
preconceived ideas of ends not yet realized, and such ideas, we
have seen, it cannot possess. The bee toils on just as uncon
sciously as the man moves his limbs in that dreamy walk ; there
is a purpose, a useful end, to be obtained by the exertion ; but
neither of them is aware of it at the moment. In the man, in
deed, the purpose was preconceived, and will come back to his
mind at the end of the walk. The bee knows nothing of a pur
pose, but toils on as an humble instrument in the hands of an
other. Its vocation is that only of the common laborer, to bring
bricks and mortar for the construction of those wonderful cells
whose real Maker and Architect is Divine, and who appears, in
this instance at least, if not in every other, constantly superin
tending and controlling his own works.
" Esse apibus partem divinse mentis, et haustus
JEtherios, dixere ; deum namque ire per omnes
Terrasque, tractusque maris, coelumque profundum :
Hinc pecudes, armenta, viros, genus omne ferarum,
Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas."
how closely the results continually approach to each other, though thus
remote, and even opposite, in their source." " The closest approxima
tion of Habits and Instincts is undoubtedly shown in the tendency of the
former to become hereditary a fact variously proved both as to bodily
and mental habits ; and equally curious and important in reference to the
whole economy of animal life." Mental Physiology, pp. 223, 224.
21
242 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
And here we see an obvious reason why the instincts of ani
mals are not susceptible of education or improvement. The
operation that is continued from the mere force of habit, will
never be improved. If the pedestrian suddenly quickens or
slackens his pace, it is a sure sign that he has begun to think
about the object of his journey. So a practised musician may
play a familiar tune, without appearing to bestow any attention
upon it, merely from habit. But he will make no progress
in his art by such exercise. In order to improve, he must
pause and dwell upon the process, note the defects in his execu
tion, and by distinct and conscious effort try to remove them.
The brutes, also, acting under their instincts, as men do when
guided only by habit, ignorant of the objects of their toil, and
therefore never reflecting upon the best means of obtaining
those objects, perform their last labor precisely like their first. *
Their physical powers improve as they grow to maturity ; but
their modes of operation are never altered.
Instinctive distinguished from imitative acts. I say nothing
of the feats which animals may be trained by man to accom
plish, because these may all be traced to the blind and uncon
scious faculty of imitation or mimicry, and to the continued
association of reward or punishment with certain actions. An
animal blindly repeats some movement which a man performs
only from a perception of its true meaning and purpose ; we
must not therefore attribute such a perception to the brute.
Parrots may be taught to articulate ; but they do not thereby
learn to talk. A monkey, in a painter s studio, will seize his
brush, and cover the walls of the room with unmeaning scrawls ;
it imitates the physical act of the painter, but without any
glimpse of its intention and real character. The teachableness
of the different classes of animals seems to depend on the com
parative strength of this imitative propensity ; and as many of
the exhibitions of this propensity, even in man, are blind and
purposeless, we may reasonably conclude that they are always
so in the brute.
The acquired habits of domesticated animals mostly override
and conceal their natural inclinations, so that they do not seem
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 243
to possess as many or as striking instincts, as some wild brutes
which are certainly inferior to them in the scale of being.
Many of these instincts, also, are of a social character, and
therefore can be manifested only when the individual is in the
wild herd with its fellows. But, in one degree or another, in
stinct is displayed by all the animals inferior to man. We find
the plainest marks of it precisely where we should expect,
among the means provided for the continuation of the species.
What directs the young colt, or the calf, at once, to the only
proper source of its nourishment ? or why does it not attempt to
crop the herbage for food, like its dam ? The stratagems used
by wild beasts to ensnare their prey must all be attributed to
instinct, as each species uses but one or two forms of such arti
fice, and shows little or no power of adapting them to circum
stances. How many other instincts are naturally conjoined
with these, it is impossible to tell, as they are freely manifested
only in the wild state, and are concealed by artificial habits
when they are subject to the care and observation of man.*
Instinct teaches the brutes how to see. In one respect, indeed,
all animals are admirably fitted for the exigencies of their
situation immediately after birth, while the human infant is left
to the slow inductions of experience under the guidance of its
elders. Man s first step in education is to acquire the use of
his own eyes, or to learn how to see. It is a fact now firmly
established, both by a priori reasoning and observation, that the
eye directly sees nothing but colors, and cannot perceive imme
diately either distance, figure, dimension, or situation. Colors
* " "Wherever there is organization, even under the simplest form, there
we are sure to find instinctive action, more or less in amount, destined to
give the appropriate effect to it. This is true throughout every part of the
animal series, from Man and the Quadrumana down to the lowest forms
of infusorial life. When we consider how vast this scale is crowded
with more than a hundred thousand recognized species, exclusively of those
which fossil geology has disclosed to us we may well be amazed by this
profuse variety of instinctive action, as multiplied in kind as are the organic
forms with which it is associated, and all derived from one common
Power." Holland s Mental Physiology, p. 206.
244 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
are the only visible things, just as sounds alone are audible ;
experience teaches us, from slight variations or peculiarities of
these, to infer the distance, magnitude, and other tangible quali
ties of the objects which possess or emit them. This fact has
been demonstrated by experiments on persons born blind and
subsequently restored to sight, and may be confirmed by watch
ing the movements of an infant soon after birth. Place some
bright or gayly colored toy before its eyes, and its looks and
movements instantly betray its desire to grasp it ; and if the
object be actually placed in its hands, it will hold it firmly, and
seem unwilling to relinquish it ; but hold it a little way off, and
the hands grope for it seemingly at random, or so as to show
the infant s entire ignorance of its true distance and position.
If its bungling attempts be attributed in part to ignorance of
the right mode of using its arms and limbs, this only places in
a stronger light its inferiority for the time to the young brute.
In a beautiful experiment made by Galen, a kid, just snatched
from the matrix of its dead mother, used its limbs at once with
perfect facility and success, and with the characteristic movements
of its species. Like the newly born colt or calf, also, it walked
with freedom, inspected objects near at hand, and avoided those
which were in its way, not, as in the case of man, with an
acquired judgment, but from an instinctive knowledge of their
true position.
*C Man has no instincts properly so calledT^ Now, if in so im-
"" portant a respect as the use of his eyes, on which man is
dependent for safety at almost every moment of his existence,
while by their aid alone his other faculties attain their full
development, if on this cardinal point, man is left entirely to
the slow deductions of experience, we may well believe that, in
no other respect, with him, is instinct made to supersede the use
of reason. We are led to conclude, then, not only that all the
lower animals are copiously endowed with instincts, but that
man is absolutely devoid of them, and is left to be guided by
reason alone. The utter helplessness of the human infant,
when compared with the young of other animals, appears in
nothing so strongly as in its inability to see, even when the eyes
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 245
are opened, and their physical structure is perfect. In fact,
there is no instance commonly adduced to prove that man is
ever governed by instinct, except the first mode in which he
receives food ; and even this is admitted to be, at most, but a
transient instinct, given to provide for his safety in the first
helpless hours of his existence. It is very doubtful, however,
whether even this temporary impulse can properly be called
instinctive. Recurring to the definition already given, is it cer
tain that this is an instance of action not pleasurable in itself
alone, but useful only as a means for some ulterior object?
That mere muscular exertion is pleasant in itself, is evident
enough to one who observes the uneasiness of infants, and the
strange gymnastic experiments of children of a little larger
growth. If a small object be placed in the hand of an infant,
its little fingers readily close around it, apparently from the
mere pleasure of calling the muscles into activity. The sphinc
ter muscle of the mouth may do the same, when any object
comes within its grasp ; and then the child needs but a single
inspiration, which automatically recurs at every instant, in order
to have its first pleasant experience of the gratification of appe
tite. When this pleasure has been a few times repeated, the
habit, aided by the uneasiness of hunger, becomes so strong,
though at the same time so blind, because the intellect is as yet
not at all developed, that the infant eagerly sucks every object
presented to its mouth. It is this eagerness, manifested at so
early a period, which has led most observers to consider the
action as instinctive. But Dr. Carpenter, an eminent physi
ologist, expressly refers this act of suction to the reflex func
tion of the nerves, thus considering it to be as mechanical as
the shutting of the eyelid, or the beating of the heart ; for in
fants that have been born destitute of brain, and have lived for
some hours, and other animals young whose brain had been
removed, have readily sucked a moistened finger, when intro
duced between their lips. Dr. Henry Holland, also, who is
high authority on such a subject, observes that " the first suck
ing of the infant is probably a simple reflex action, following an
impression on the nerves of sense."
21*
246 THE NATURE OP INSTINCT.
It lias now been conclusively shown, if I mistake not, that a
class of phenomena are manifested by the lower animals, which
may be as sharply distinguished from the effects of human rea
son, on the one hand, as from those of appetite and natural
desire, on the other ; and these phenomena are attributed to a
power which we call instinct. Give it any other name, and it
will answer the purpose equally well. All the lower animals
manifest it ; man never does ; these are the only propositions
with which we are now concerned. All the actions of man,
which have been loosely considered or described as instinctive,
may be referred either to the powers of organic life, that is,
to mechanical forces, or to the teachings of experience, or to
the class of appetites. Human nature shows no trace whatever
of that marvellous power which governs the bee in the con
struction of its cell, and guides the migrating bird to its winter
home. But man is the only being who is not under its influence ;
every other animal, from the noblest quadruped to the humblest
insect, gives frequent indications of its presence and control.
Instinct probably never united with reason. So numerous
and striking, indeed, are the manifestations of it by every
species, that there appears good reason to doubt whether it is
ever mingled, even in them, with what is properly called intel
lect ; whether all the reputed cases of sagacity and intelligence
in the higher animals may not be referred, after all, into a mere
blind propensity to imitate actions, the meaning and purpose of
which they cannot understand, or into an instinct more flexible
and varied, indeed, than that of the lower tribes, but which is
still seen to be radically different from reason. Without enter
ing into this difficult discussion, I will merely allude to the
striking improbability of the lower animals being endowed with
reason, which they need to exercise only on infrequent and ex
traordinary emergencies, while all the ordinary occasions of their
being their wants, dangers, and the continuation of their
species are provided for by the lower attributes with which
they are specially endowed. These certainly suffice for the
most wonderful worlds that are performed by them ; the whole
insect tribe unquestionably knows no other guide than instinct;
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 247
and if this power be enough to account for the actions of the
ant and the bee, we hardly need seek any other key to the sup
posed sagacity of the dog and the elephant, as they also possess
it, and it governs nearly all their conduct.
But the negative on the other side is more easily supported,
and by direct evidence. However it may be with the brute,
reason is not united with instinct (properly so called) in man.
The human intellect is pure and unmixed. It may be obscured
by appetite, or stormed by passion ; habit may render its opera
tions so swift and easy, that we cannot note and remember their
succession. But when free from these disturbing forces, it acts
always with a full perception of the end in view, and by a
deliberate choice of means aims at its accomplishment. We
have the immediate testimony of consciousness, that we never
select means until experience has informed us of their efficacy,
and never use them but with a full knowledge of their relation
to the end.
Summary of the characteristics of instinct. Each of the
qualities of instinct on which I have remarked, is a peculiarity
of it in respect to reason, and serves more or less to distinguish
it from that faculty ; while the aggregate of these peculiari
ties shows conclusively that the difference between the two is
fundamental. This will appear more clearly from a summary
of the several points that have been considered. It has been
shown, then, that instinct exists before experience, and is wholly
independent of instruction ; that it is not susceptible of educa
tion or improvement of any kind, either in the individual or the
race ; that it works successfully towards important and remote
ends by the use of complex and laborious means, yet without
any apparent consciousness of the difference between means
and ends ; that it acts, in truth, by impulse, and not through re
flection, at least, as much so as the man who has gained by
habit the power of performing a long operation without reflect
ing on any part of it ; that it is limited to a few objects, and out
of the narrow sphere of work required for these objects it is
altogether useless ; and that, consequently, it appears in the
same animal, and at the same time, both as the most brutish
248 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT.
stupidity and as the highest wisdom, for some of its creations
shame the greatest ingenuity of man.* As we are confessedly-
ignorant of the internal constitution of both faculties, reason
and instinct, and are compelled to judge of them exclusively by
their outward manifestations, it is difficult to conceive of two
powers which should appear more unlike.
Beings guided by instinct are not moral beings. It is vain to
form conjectures respecting the inward essence, or ultimate
cause, of a faculty which appears to human reason so anoma
lous. Yet one or two points, perhaps, may be satisfactorily
made out respecting the mental constitution of brutes, which
will afford us a glimpse of the final end of their being.
Whether instinct be the mere action of a curious machine, or
the effect of the constant agency and promptings of^he Deity,
or the working of some still more secret principle which is
nowhere manifested but in animal life, it is not a free and con
scious power of the animal itself in which it appears and
works. It is, if I may so speak, a foreign agency, which enters
not into the individuality of the brute. The animal appears
subject to it, controlled and guided by it, but not to possess and
apply it by its own will for its own chosen purposes. We can
not conceive of wisdom apart from reflection and consciousness ;
there is an absurdity in the very terms of such a statement.
The skill and ingenuity, then, which appear in the works of the
lower animals are not referable to the animals themselves, but
must proceed from some higher power, working above the sphere
of their consciousness. This assistance is meted out to them
for specific and limited ends, and has no effect on the rest of
their conduct, which is governed by their own individuality. In
its highest functions, the brute appears only as the blind and
passive instrument of a will which is not its own.
* " The absolute hereditary nature of instincts, their instant or speedy
perfection, prior to all experience or memory, their provision for the
future without prescience of it, the preciseness of their objects, extent,
and limitation, and the distinctness and permanence of their character
for each species, these are the more general facts on which our definition
must be founded," Holland s Mental Phjsiology, p. 201.
THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 249
" And Reason raise o er Instinct as you can,
In this t is God directs, in that t is man."
The power is granted to it for a time, but is not susceptible of
improvement by practice while in its keeping, is invariably ap
plied in the same way, and with perfect success, and is with
drawn as soon as the purposes for which it was given are
answered. No moral character is attributable to a faculty
which is unconsciously exerted, and no moral aim can exist
where progress or change is impossible. When deprived of
this extraneous power, or viewed apart from it, the brute ap
pears in its true light, as the creature of a day, born not for
purposes connected with its own being, but as an humble instru
ment, or a fragmentary part, in the great circle of animated
nature, which, as a whole, is subservient to higher ends.*
* I hardly need observe how much the phenomena considered in this
chapter tend to confirm the doctrine of immediate divine agency. This
was the opinion of Sir Isaac Newton, who, in the famous 31st Query, or
General Scholium to his " Optics," says, " the instinct of brutes and in
sects can be nothing else than the wisdom and skill of a powerful, ever-
living Agent, who, being in all places, is more able by his will to move
the bodies within his boundless uniform sensorium, and thereby to form
and reform the parts of the universe, than we are by our will to move the
parts of our bodies." Even Miiller, the physiologist, says, " The cause
of instinct appears to be the same power as that on which the first pro
duction of the animal, and the perfection of its organization, depend.
The instinctive acts of animals show us that this power, which thus forms
the whole organization with reference to a determinate purpose and in
accordance with an unchanging law, has moreover an action beyond this ;
they prove that it influences the voluntary movements. That which is
effected by the instinctive movements is equally in accordance with a
determinate purpose, and as necessary for the existence of the species as
the organization itself; but while, in the case of the organization of the
being, the object attained formed part of the organism, in the case of the
instinctive movements, it is something in the exterior world ; the mental
power of the animal is incited by the organic creative force to the concep
tion and attempt to attain some special object."
Again, " it is further to be remarked that the realization of the ideas,
images, and impulses, thus developed in the sensorium, is admirably
facilitated by the organization of the animals. Both the internal impulse
250 THE ACTIVE POWERS OP MAN
CHAPTER II.
THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTIVITY IN HUMAN NATURE.
Summary of the last chapter. The object of the last chapter
was, by a brief inquiry into the mental constitution of the ani
mals inferior to man, to bring out into a stronger light those
peculiarities of human nature which show what is the purpose
of our being in this life, and what are the leading features in
the scheme of Divine Providence for the government of man.
I do not forget that our first object is to show what are the
moral attributes of God, and to ascertain if there is sufficient
evidence to justify us in imputing to him those qualities of
infinite wisdom and benevolence, of perfect justice and holiness,
which the religious sentiment within us instinctively requires in
the person towards whom it is directed. But these qualities can
be manifested to our eyes only in his works and ways; and it
is by studying these, that is, by ascertaining what human nature
is, how it is endowed, and what is the part which it has to per
form in this stage of existence, that we can arrive at any certain
and precise knowledge of the Divine nature. Now we are so
much accustomed to take for granted a knowledge of the human
constitution, both intellectual and moral, it is so much easier to
and the external organization being dependent on the same original cause,
the form of the animal appears in complete unison Avith its impulses to
action ; it wills to do nothing which its organs do not enable it to do ; and
its organs are not such as to prompt to any act to which it is not impelled
by an instinct." Thus, the indistinct sight of the mole, arising from the
smallness of its eyes, which are also shielded by thick hairs, and the shape
of its claws and feet, are admirably adapted to the subterranean life which
its instincts impel it to lead. The instinct of the ^sloth urges it to climb
trees and live in them, a mode of existence for which it is perfectly well
fitted by the shape of its extremities, which allow it to walk on the ground
only with great difficulty and awkwardness.
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 251
use our faculties in the study of external objects than of the
mind itself, that, without some object of comparison or contrast,
it is difficult to understand, or, at any rate, to have a clear and
lively sense of, those endowments by which we are distinguished
among God s creatures, and of the purposes for which these
distinguishing attributes were granted to us. We see the work
that is accomplished by brutes, and how they are fitted for its
performance. We are conscious of the possession of higher
faculties than theirs, and we seek to know how our task and our
destiny differ from theirs ; or whether, in truth, we have any
task set to us, or any great end to obtain. The character and
intentions of the Deity must appear most clearly from a com
parative examination of the two higher orders of animated being
which he has made.
One point I may now assume, as sufficiently established in
the First Part of this discussion. It is inconsistent, I do not
say with infinite wisdom, for perhaps we are not justified at this
stage of the argument in considering any of the attributes of God,
except his duration, as infinite, but it is inconsistent with the
transcendent wisdom which is everywhere visible in the works
of creation, to suppose that any thing was created in vain, or
that a difference is established between two orders of being
without any reason for that difference. To act with reference
to improper or ill-chosen ends, is the part of imperfect intelli
gence; but to act without any end at all, is mere brutishness, or"
a sign of the absolute want of understanding. We cannot be
lieve that the creation of man, or the constitution of his being
in any respect, is as meaningless as seems the direction of the
clouds that float athwart a summer s sky.
Discipline and self-development are the ends of human life.
A comparison of the human with the brute mind shows, first,
that self-development is one of the great ends of our being here,
and that the fulfilment of this purpose is left in a great degree
to our own freewill. It is not enough that the intellect should
be competent for its task ; the work of preparation, or the act
of rendering it competent, is itself the first object for which we
are urged to any kind of exertion. Discipline and progress, not
252 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
mere possession or enjoyment, is the great purpose of human
life. The workings of instinct, if we look only at the impor
tance and difficulty of the results obtained, often surpass the
most strenuous efforts of the conscious mind. Man, as I have
said, may go to school to the ant and the bee ; in fact, there is
hardly one of the inferior animals whose habits he may not
study with a well founded hope of obtaining direction for his
own labors. Why, then, is he not led, unconsciously and pas
sively, as the brutes are, by the wisest and most effective means,
selected without any effort of his own judgment and ingenuity,
to the immediate accomplishment of far more brilliant results
than he has ever yet worked out by the natural exercise of the
faculties with which he is at present endowed ? Why, for in
stance, after all his bitter experience in the matters of govern
ment and social institutions, and after the wisdom of thirty
centuries has been exhausted in pondering upon the several
problems of social philosophy, is he still unable to form a soci
ety which, in point of orderly arrangement, harmony, and effec
tive cooperation for the general good, shall even approach the
excellence of a community of bees ? His faculties, his powers,
both of body and mind, are unquestionably higher than theirs ;
the gregarious appetite or passion with him is as strong ; and his
happiness, if not his safety, is consequently as dependent as
theirs on the perfection of the arrangements which may be made
for living and working in company with his fellows. Why,
then, has not the same Almighty Guide, who condescends to
order and sustain the economy of a hive, placed man also, with
out any effort of his own, in a perfect social state, thus saving
him from the disorder, contention, anarchy, and misrule, the
long and painful recital and description of which now consti
tute the history of the human race ? It were surely as easy
to do this for man as for an insect ; and why, then, is it not
equally desirable in the two cases ?
There can be but one answer to this question. It is, that an
improved condition of society, bestowed at once by the free gift
of the Creator, instead of being attained by human tnnl and
effort, is not an end so desirable as that very unassisted trial and
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 253
effort, however costly these may seem in respect to human hap
piness or mere enjoyment. He who complains of the necessity
of this labor, and thinks it an impeachment of the goodness
of God that the object cannot be acquired without it, really en
vies the condition of an insect, who is led blindfold, but in abso
lute security, to the fulfilment of the conditions of his existence.
Will he consent to change places with it ? I do not yet say
that the lot of human beings, with all this necessity for toil, with
all their liability to repeated mistakes and failures, and conse
quent sufferings, is still infinitely higher and happier than that of
the lower orders of animal life, who walk darkling, but in safety ;
who have no liberty of choice, and so never mistake ; who are
God-guided, and therefore never fail of the end that is placed
before them. The question of the comparative desirableness
of the two situations, or the two schemes of life, as they may be
termed, will depend on the result of our subsequent inquiry into
the comparative value of discipline and enjoyment ; of a char
acter self-formed, and a nature endowed and wholly controlled,
however happily, by another ; of virtue united with freewill,
and happiness enjoyed of necessity. But it is important here
to understand the radical difference of the two situations, and
the consequences which necessarily follow from the different
endowments of man and the brute, and the dissimilar parts
which they have to play upon the theatre of creation.
Why physical laws are permanent and uniform. The plan
of Divine Providence in the government of the universe must
be studied as a whole. We cannot understand the economy of
one of the parts without contrasting it with that of the others,
and seeing how, in the several cases, different ends are obtained
by different means, and one end, again, made subservient to
another and higher one, so that all work together for good.
Man is not the only denizen of the earth, nor is his happiness
the single purpose, or even the highest purpose, of creation.
His improvement, the perfecting of his moral character by his
own choice and effort, may be this purpose ; but this is the
point to be established by our present inquiry. We have seen
that the course of merely physical events, or the succession of
22
254 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
what are called cause- and effect in the material universe, is*
sustained and guided by the immediate agency of the Deity,
and in every part it affords sufficient evidence of his wisdom
and power. These events do not succeed each other at random,
but according to what we term natural law ; that is, in a fixed
and orderly succession, similar antecedents being always fol
lowed by similar consequents. There must be some reason for
this order and harmony, some purpose to be accomplished by
it ; for as each event is caused immediately, or without the in
tervention of secondary causes, its character is in nowise nec
essarily determined by *he event which preceded it, but its
occurrence, if the Deity had so willed, might have been marked
by wholly unprecedented circumstances. I say that there must
be some reason or purpose for this preservation of natural law,
because all physical arrangements and adaptations, all the
organisms of nature, as we have seen, reveal design ; and it is
inconsistent with the Divine wisdom that is evinced by this fact,
to suppose that any thing is, or takes place, in vain, or without
a, purpose.
Permanency of law not needed for the brides. Now, this
regularity -of succession, or permanency of natural law, is not
needed for any object connected with the animal kingdom, which
is inferior to man. Brutes, as far as we can ee, make no
selection of means, and seem wholly ignorant, indeed, of the
difference between means and ends. Every act performed by
them appears to be done from immediate impulse, or desire
relating to that act alone ; they are literally slaves of the ap
petite of the present moment. Of the subserviency of the
action to some result which is to take place hereafter, of its fit
ness to satisfy some future want, or to make provision for sat
isfying it, they have no knowledge. They profit not by expe
rience, and indulge in no anticipations ; or, at any rate, they
never conform their conduct to anticipations of the future. The
resemblance, then, of the present and future to the past, the fact
that similar events may be expected under similar circumstances,
is not needed for their guidance. Order and harmony are not
for those who are incapable of comparing them with confusion
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 255
and discord, and who could not profit by their continuance.
Limited in its desires and feelings to the present moment, look
ing neither before nor behind, and so incapable, as we may
suppose, of any purely intellectual exercise, the animal creation,
excluding man, is still susceptible of enjoyment, and its pleas
ures, as they are evidently not of its own procuring, afford the
clearest evidence of the benevolence of the Deity. The ex
igencies of their situation, the wants of their nature, and espec
ially the continuance of their species, are all provided for, with
out any tax on their own skill or energy, by the same power
and wisdom which ordained their existence.
Moral purpose of physical, law. The predominance of law, ^
then, in the course of nature is intended for the guidance of
manjjwe can imagine no other purpose for it. It is a por
tion of the scheme of Providence for the government of a being
endowed with freewill, furnished with motives or inducements
to action, supplied with a capacity for knowledge and means of
instruction, and then left by his own effort to form his character
and shape his destiny. /There must be some object in such a
plan of government beyond the mere production of happiness ;
that end, as has been shown, is sufficiently answered in the
case of the lower animals by simpler means, by a less complex
constitution of mind, and fewer adaptations to it of external
circumstances. There must be some higher and more desirable
attainment than the mere sense of pleasure or enjoyment for
the time ; and therefore, the subordination of the lower end to
the higher, I the occasional sacrifice of human happiness for the
promotion of a worthier object, is perfectly consistent with the
infinite benevolence of the Creator. Man, as has been shown,
has no instincts whatever; appetites, desires, and affections,
relating to objects immediately before him, he has in common
witli the brutes *, and, like these, he is susceptible of pleasure
from the gratification. of them. But he has no means of fore
seeing the exigencies of his situation, and, of course, no power
of providing for his future wants, or of aspiring to any thing
higher than this merely sensual pleasure, except from what his
reason teaches him respecting the course of nature, and the
256 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
laws which govern the succession of events. L Reason; proceeds
only by experience ; and the lessons of experience would be of
no worth, they would be mere reminiscences of past events,
without any inferences deducible from them, unless the course
of nature were uniform, and similar circumstances were always
attended with similar results. "7
This doctrine, that the fixed laws even of material nature
have a moral purpose, will appear to most persons, I am well
aware, as a bold and fanciful speculation. JThe prevailing
opinion, though it be not often openly avowed, is, that these
laws have no object but to uphold the beauty and order, the stu
pendous mechanism, of the outward universe, one being subor
dinated to another, or included in it, and all working together in
grand and complex harmony to keep up the perpetual cycle of
events, and sustain the unity of the system of created things. J
This, I am sorry to believe, is the prevailing and increasing
tendency of the physical science of the present day, to reduce
the study of nature to the determination of its laws or regular
ities of succession and arrangement, to maintain that any one
of these principles has no object or function but its subserviency
to a higher one, and that the widest generalization of them is
the highest truth attainable by the human faculties.* Accord-
* One great cause o^infidelityat the present day is the want of consis
tency, the apparent contradiction, between most persons religious views
and their scientific opinions, or their ideas of the course of nature and the
operation of physical causes. The doctrine of an immediately superin
tending Providence, or<\fflfmfc ^1 ftvp.ntH fnv the. _ ^^^\nstniction and gov
ernment of man, cannot be reconciled with the idea of a chain of events,
each link of which is determined by an inherent necessity, growing out t,
of its relations to those which precede and follow it in the succession.
Religion requires us to consider ourselves as the objects of a Divine
Providence, of an infinite superintending care, which orders all events for
good. This doctrine is a necessary consequence of a belief in the benevo
lence and justice of the Deity, and in his moral government of the world.
A devout mind recognizes it almost instinctively as such, and considers all
events, especially those which concern one s personal welfare or happiness,
as dispensations which are required for his instruction or improvement. It
discerns a moral purpose in all things, believing that they were specially
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 257
ing to this view, either the material creation had no purpose
beyond itself, or that purpose is not discoverable by man ; we
must look upon it, indeed, as a grand and marvellous work ; but
designed to produce a certain effect on the character and heart. It subor
dinates the physical to the moral ; regarding the former as means, and the
latter as an end. Life is a gift and a trust,, to be exercised, lor certain
purposes ; death is a warning, and a token that, in a particular case, these
purposes are accomplished. Every cause of affliction or rejoicing has an
errand and a meaning, and it is our duty to consider it as such, to try to
read its lesson, and apply it for the regulation of our hearts and lives.
This is the view which the believer takes, in profession at least, of the
affairs of this world, and of its moral government by the Almighty ; it is
the view which religion requires him to take, if it be not reduced to a mere
speculative belief in the existence of a God, who is no further concerned
with the lot of mankind than as he originally created them, endowed
them with certain faculties, and placed them upon the earth to determine
their destiny by their own wisdom and their observation of the workings
of nature.
But in practical life and the management of their daily concerns, as well
as in scientific investigations, most persons act upon a theory which is the
very opposite of this religious doctrine. They look upon the course of
eveats_,as_mia ^a% determined, from the beginning, by the inherent constitu
tion of things and by the relations of objects and circumstances to each
other, without reference to tfe mentor demerit of accountable beings, and without
regard to an^jnqral lesson or purpose whatsoever. Every occurrence in the
outward universe is an efficient cause, which is necessarily followed by an
effect exactly proportioned to it ; and this effect, again, being causal in its
nature as to the events which follow it, inevitably acts upon them all, and
has a share in determining their character, so that its consequences might
be traced, if we had the power of distinguishing them from the similar
operating causes with which they are mingled, in an ever-widening
stream, through all time. Life and death, motion and rest, health and
disease, growth, progress, decay, and restoration, are all necessarily deter
mined by each other and by attendant circumstances, and follow each
other in perpetual succession ; moral good or evil having, at most, a power
too small to be appreciated in checking the current or altering its direction.
Man himself, though his freewill be admitted as one of the causes which
affect his lot, is still operated upon by so many other and more powerful
ones, that he seems like a leaf floating upon the stream, and hurried away
by it, he knows not whither. His birth and death, to recur to a former
illustration, were both determined ages before by the altered position of a
grain of sand. He is for ever complaining that he is the sport of circum-
22*
258 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
after we have explored all its recesses and fathomed its lowest
depths, the only impression left on the mind is a vague feeling
of wonder and admiration. A more profound philosophy shows
stances, be his efforts and merits what they may. Even his character, if
we may believe his murmurings, is formed rather for him than by him,
through the accident of his birth in one or another country, in a higher
or lower position of life, and through the circumstances which surrounded
his infancy and childhood, before either body or mind had strength enough
to contend against external influences. Who can discern, he asks, in
moments of despondency, the watchfulness and justice of an ever-ruling
Providence, or any moral intention whatsoever, amid this chaos of blind
and conflicting forces ? When in such a mood, the highest virtue within
his reach, or the one most essential to his well-being, seems to be the
Stoicism which teaches insensibility to hardship and wrong, and the stifling
of all generous aspirations.
Do I exaggerate the inconsistency, then, between what may be called
the religious and the practical view of life "? Is it possible for the two to
coexist in the same mind, without the individual becoming conscious at
times that they are wholly irreconcilable with each other, so that he is re
duced to the sad necessity of choosing between them ? Either God gov
erns the world, or the blind fatality of physical causes, operating through
the powers inherent in every atom of brute matter, governs it ; there is no
other alternative. In his closet, or while listening to a sermon, or under
the affliction caused by a recent bereavement, or in near view of approaching
death, man accepts the former doctrine, and thinks that he believes it,
though he has made no examination of the grounds on which it rests.
But he goes out into the world, his mind, as he supposes, recovers its tone,
he watches the course of events, judges of the future by the past, prepares
to resist the force of circumstances or to yield to them, and acts altogether
on the supposition that these events and circumstances depend on natural
causes, which operate irresistibly, and were not designed or dii-ected by a
conscious being with any moral or spiritual purpose whatever.
And here, I apprehend, is the reason why scientific pursuits have not,
of late, always tended to confirm the religious faith of those who were en
gaged in them. It is the business of the man of science to discover the
invariable connections and sequences of facts and events, and to separate
these from the casual, temporary, and irregular combinations which throw
no light upon the nature of the phenomena. This attempt has been
crowned of late years with the most brilliant success, the dominion of law,
as it is called, having been everywhere established in the midst of what
seemed to be the greatest variety and confusion. The laws of nature, we
are told, admit of no exceptions ; seeming anomalies and contradictions,
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 259
QL that the object of God s works is not merely to astonish
but to teach. To borrow the eloquent words of Dr. Channing
" Mind is God s first end. The great purpose, for which an
when further studied, are found to exemplify a higher law, or to come
from the mingled operation of two or more principles, so that the apparent
exception confirms the rule. But the moral effect or tendency of a phe
nomenon is not found to be one of its invariable characteristics, and so,
even when observed, it is considered only as a fortuitous coincidence,
which indicates nothing as to the fixed relations of events, and therefore
eomes not within the field which the student of nature endeavors to survey.
The mere separation of the moral from the physical sciences, and the
division of labor which assigns one class .of men exclusively to the study
of the latter, necessarily draw off their attention from those observations
and inquiries which give a meaning and a purpose to natural phenomena,
and which lead us from the study of this fabric of the universe up to the
character and intentions of its Almighty Architect. If this search after
the necessary and immutable relations of things, in which the followers of
physical science are wholly absorbed, has led many of them to doubt
whether man s own nature be not subject to a like inevitable control with
that which governs the fall of an atom and the courses of the planets, and
so to reduce the human will to a phenomenon of the same class with
gravitation, all the effects of which may be predicted beforehand from its
known laws, why should we wonder that most of them practically regard
external nature as mere mechanism, which has no motive power save two
or three inherent and inexplicable forces, and is strictly limited to the pro
duction of mechanical results.
In opposition to this view, I have endeavored, in the First Part of this
work, to prove that physical laws are no causes at all, but are mere ex
pressions of the order and uniformity of physical phenomena, so that to
attribute efficient causation to them is, in fact, an abuse of words, or a
meaningless statement ; and that all the phenomena are directly produced
by the immediate action of the Deity. In this Second Part, I proceed
to show,Jirst, that the physical laws themselves, or the order and uniform
ity of events in nature, have a general and exclusively moral purpose, being
intended solely for the guidance of man; and, secondly, that they hayje.a
specific moral purpose, many or all of them being intended to enforce upon
man the observance of the moral law or the commands of God. Having
proved before, that God works immediately in nature, we now show that
the effects of his agency are not merely physical, but moral. Not only
order and uniformity, but justice and benevolence, are the laws of his
creation. The lessons which the universe teaches are addressed to the
conscience, no less jthaa to the intellect, of man.
260 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
order of nature is fixed, is plainly the formation of mind. In
a creation without order, where events Avould follow without
any regular succession, it is obvious that mind must be kept in
perpetual infancy ; for in such a universe, there could be no
reasoning from effects to causes, no induction to establish general
truths, no adaptation of means to ends; that is, no science
relating to God, or matter, or mind ; no action, no virtue."*
Analysis of the principles of human action. As we are
compelled to admit, then, that there is a higher purpose in the
Divine government than the mere promotion of happiness, that
end being sufficiently provided for in the constitution of the
lower animals, we come to an examination of what Dugald
Stewart calls " the active and moral powers of man," as our
means of discovering what that purpose is. The first fact that
strikes us here is, that j most of the lower incitements,^ action
all the appetites] land most of the desires and affections are
common to the human and the brute mind. They involve no
exercise of reason ; they are blind, but unerring, in their opera
tion, and they supply a stimulus for exertion, which is either
constant, or recurs at frequent intervals. Their indulgence
brings with it certain consequences of good or evil, according
as their proper limits have beenobserved or transgressed; but
the perception of such consequences is not necessary to their vital
ity or efficiency as motives to action*! This will be readily
admitted in regard to the appetites, such as those of hunger and
thirst, for instance. They first manifest themselves by a sense
of uneasiness, which subsides, and is followed by a feeling of
enjoyment, as soon as they are gratified. Afterwards, indeed,
the recollection of this enjoyment will be associated with the
primitive craving, and may lead us to stimulate or provoke it
with a view to the pleasure which is to come from its indulgence.
But this association was not needed to excite the appetites at
first ; and though it may heighten, it certainly does not wholly
create, the pleasure which they subsequently afford.
Final cause of the lower impulses to action. The only other
remark needed as to these original impulses is, that their
adaptation to the necessities of the body, their graduated and
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 261
periodically recurring influence, is in itself a beautiful instance
of design. Life is preserved by coupling with that which is
necessary for its preservation an imperative, but blind desire,
which is not subject to the will, and is thus guarded against the
effects of inattention or carelessness. The uncertainty of the
voluntary action of mind, the intermittent and fitful char-^
acter of attention and reason, is not permitted to hazard the
performance of those acts on which our continued existence
depends. The appetites are aided by other propensities, tend
ing either to action or repose, which are equally blind, and go to
keep up that salutary medium between sluggishness and undue
exertion, which is necessary for the health both of body and
mind.
Purpose and function of the affections and desires. The
desires and affections, which I come next to consider,! are dis
tinguished from the appetites in so far as they do not take their
rise from the body, nor operate periodically ; but they agree
with them in being independent of reflection and calculation, and
in tending directly towards specific objects as their ultimate ends.
We can give no further account of them, nor explain their pref
erence of one object over another, otherwise than by saying,
that such is the constitution of our being. Jouffroy calls them
the primitive and instinctive tendencies of human nature, which
show themselves in man almost from the first moment of his
existence, and develop and strengthen themselves with every
step that he takes towards maturer years. Among these origi
nal desires may be mentioned the love of knowledge, of society,
of approbation, of power, and many other things, the number of
which will depend on the fineness of our analysis of the several
objects, or on our principles of classification. Why we should
desire these things rather than their opposites, is a question that
we are no more able to answer, than we are to tell why certain
odors are pleasant, and others offensive, or why glass is trans
parent, and metal opaque. The desires exist in greater or less
strength in different minds, but in some degree, they are common
to all minds ; for without them, man would sink into a state of
entire inaction and repose, or rather, he would never have
262 THE ACTIVE POWEHS OF MAN.
risen out of such a condition. He would still be capable of in
ert contemplation and reverie ; a perpetual succession of loosely
connected images and ideas might float for ever before the
mind, and with these might be coupled a consciousness of exist
ence, all without the will ever being called into activity.
But to live and to think are not the only ends of our creation.
Action is necessary for our improvement and our happiness, and
the necessary stimulus to action is supplied by these several
desires, the number and variety of which open a wide field for
effort, and permit many to labor side by side with less risk of
interference.
These desires are among the earliest manifestations of the
infant mind. They do not wait for the development of the in
telligence, nor are the teachings of experience or the instructions
of our fellow-beings needed to call them forth, or to keep them
in exercise. The infant shows the love of society and of appro
bation almost as soon as the appetite of hunger. "Attend only,"
says a distinguished naturalist, " to the eyes, the features, and
the gestures of a child on the breast when another child is pre
sented to it ; both ipstantly, previous to the possibility of
instruction or habit, exhibit the most evident expressions of joy.
Their eyes sparkle, and their features and gestures demonstrate,
in the most unequivocal manner, a mutual attachment. When
further advanced, children who are strangers to each other,
though their social appetite be equally strong, discover a mu
tual shyness of approach, which, however, is soon conquered by
the more powerful instinct of association."
The desires ^are imself.sk. But a stronger proof of the prim
itive and unreflecting character of these desires is the fact, that
most, if not all, of them are shown in various degrees of inten
sity by the lower animals. Emulation is the prevailing trait in
the disposition of a horse, as the love of approbation is in that
of a dog, and the desire for society in that of all the gregarious
animals. In these cases, certainly, it is not the utility of the
several objects that are aimed at, or the pleasure which they
are capable of imparting, that is the foundation of the desire ;
for this pleasure is made known only by experience, the utility
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 23
is discoverable by reason alone; and brutes .are incapable of
profiting by the one or the other. It is a proof of the goodness
of God, that these animals and human beings are so organized,
their sensibilities are such, that the gratification of these desires
is generally accompanied by a pleasurable feeling, or a sense
of enjoyment. But this is not a necessary accompaniment ; we
can easily conceive of a sensibility so constituted, that the fulfil
ment of the desire should be attended with pain instead of
pleasure ; and yet the desire would be not the less real, not the
less a stimulus to action. In fact, under certain circumstances,
in certain states of body or mind, the satisfaction of our longings
does become a source of torment, instead of happiness ; Heaven
punishes us by granting our guilty prayers ; and though this
result be foreseen, though we have a moral certainty that more
pain than pleasure will be the consequence of the .accomplish
ment of our wishes, we persist in the effort. The vehemence
of the desire conquers every thing, even our regard for our
own happiness.
\ The affections\are original tendencies of our nature^ I have
dwelt the longer on the uncalculating, and therefore, in one
sense of the term, unselfish, nature of the original appetites and
desires, in order to prepare the way for a similar conclusion
(where it is more important) in regard to the last class of these
primitive impulses which we have to consider, namely, the
affections. These are usually divided into two classes, accord^
ing as their object is the communication of enjoyment or of suf
fering to our fellow-beings. In the first class are reckoned the
affections of kindred, of friendship, patriotism, pity, gratitude,
and the like ; in the second are comprised hatred, jealousy, envy,
and revenge, all of which, however, are more properly consid
ered as modifications of the single principle of resentment.
What benevolent purposes are answered by ingrafting these
principles in the human constitution, is a point for subsequent
consideration. My only present aim is to show that these
affections, like the simple appetites and desires, are original
tendencies of our nature, and point towards their several ob
jects simply from an instinctive liking for those objects, and
264 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF
without any regard to the pleasure or pain which may attend
the exercise of the affections themselves on the part of those
who feel them ; in other words, that there is such a thing as
benevolent affection, original and unmixed. There is pleasure
consequent on their entertainment, but a desire to receive that
pleasure is not the reason why we entertain them. We do this
because we cannot help it. Under certain circumstances, we
are affected with love, pity, gratitude, or resentment, whether
we will or no ; we admit these feelings as necessarily as the
understanding yields assent on the presentation of sufficient
evidence. / We act in accordance with them, not from any self
ish desire of the pleasure or profit which such action will occa
sion to ourselves, but because the affection itself prompts us to
act ; and this prompting would be felt, though injury or death
should be the consequence of yielding to it. I Why has it ever
been supposed that it was jpilifirwise ?
Origin of prudence ^ self -love!) To answer this question, I
must explain the origin of thlTfeeling of self-love, and the nature
of the selfish system in morals, as it is called, which attempts to
reduce all motives, and refer all conduct, to this single principle.
As every appetite, desire, and affection, when gratified, brings
with it a sense of enjoyment, the sum of these several enjoyments
constitutes our idea of happiness. Experience of pleasure, of
course, brings with it a desire of its recurrence ; and as we wish
that this pleasure should be as extensive and varied as possible,,
we are led to study the art of so combining and regulating our
motives and actions, that one shall not interfere with another,
and that the general result shall be the maximum of enjoyment.
Reason teaches us often to sacrifice a less pleasure for a greater,
or to postpone a momentary indulgence for a larger and more
permanent good to be obtained hereafter. To borrow the lan
guage of a great moralist, " any condition may be denominated
happy, in which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds
that of pain, and the degree of happiness depends upon the
quantity of this excess." Reason, guided by experience, that
is, by the materials afforded by the gratification of the several
desires, decides upon the course of conduct which will raise this
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 265
excess of pleasure over pain to the highest attainable point ;
and to act from this rational and calculating regard for our own
interest, is said to be the dictate of self-love.
1 Prudence first distinguishes man from the brutes. Here,
first, in tlie active part of his nature, does man show his superi
ority over the brute. The latter, unable to profit by experience,
and incapable of foresight, cannot regulate its actions by a sys
tem, or plan of life, but necessarily follows the impulse or desire
of the moment. The complex and abstract idea of happiness
lies beyond its power of conception. It cannot foresee even
the enjoyment which will follow the gratification of its present
appetite, but it acts under the immediate pressure of that appe
tite, almost as mechanically as a machine moves from the im
pulse given to it by a spring. ^For all the lower animals, pru
dence is an impossible virtue i but with man, it is the dawning
of his intellectual and moral life, the first step which he takes
as a rational and self-improving being. He can restrain the
impulse of the moment, be it appetite, affection, or desire, till he
can study the consequences) of yielding to itJtill he can remem
ber what was the effect of a former gratification of it, till he can
ascertain if there be not other objects which he desires more
earnestly, while the attainment of them will be hindered or ren
dered impossible by the present indulgence. To act thus delib
erately, with reflection and foresight, is the part of prudence ;
j this is the lowest in the scale of virtues, for it ends in self; but
it is also the first, for, without it, the practice of any other virtue
would seldom be possible.] By the exercise of it man first rises
above the condition of the brutes, and manifests, not, indeed, a
moral nature, properly so called, but the capacity of receiving
such a nature, and of acting up to its dictates. [Here, also,
where morality first becomes practicable, was placed, as you will
remember, the decisive evidence of human freewill, in man s
power of governing and restraining for a time the operation of
motives, till he could consider and select from them a fitting
principle of action.
How far self-love is legitimate. Prudence, which I here use
as synonymous with self-love, is only a well-considered and dis-
23
266 THE ACTIVE TOWERS OF MAN.
passionate regard for our own future welfare ; and, as such, it
*~is perfectly legitimate, and even commendable, when it interferes
not with higher obligations. Its function is supervisory, and its
sphere embraces all the lower incitements to action, which we
have already considere^/ It is a governor and a judge among
the appetites, affections, and desires ; restraining, regulating, or
indulging them, at the bidding of the sovereign reason. If it
abdicates its throne, man becomes a mere brute, that is, a
slave to the impulses and passions of the instant. If it rules
too absolutely, usurping or disregarding the authority of a higher
faculty, namely, the conscience, then man becomes, not a brute,
but a demon, or an utterly selfish being! There is much less
danger of this perversion of the faculty than of the former
one, for men yield far more readily to their immediate pas
sions than to calculations of their future interest. " A regard
to our own general happiness," says Sir James Mackintosh,fthe
safest and most philosophical of all modern commentators upon
the theory of ethicsj " is not a vice, but in itself an excellent
quality. It were well, if it prevailed more generally over
craving and shortsighted appetites. The weakness of the social
affections, and the strength of the private desires, properly
constitute selfishness ; - a vice utterly at variance with the hap
piness of him who harbors it, and as such condemned by self-
love."
Explanation of the selfish system. But the fact, that the
lower incitements to action are under the government of pru
dence, and are directed with reference to our future welfare,
has given rise to the monstrous theory in morals, that man s
whole conduct is determined by the love of self,, and that he is
incapable of disinterested action. He" seeks only his own in
terest, says Hobbes, and virtue, consequently, is but a name.
The benevolent affections are placed on the same level with the
private desires, such as those of emulation and revenge ; be
cause pleasure, or some ulterior advantage, follows the gratifi
cation of them, we are said to yield to them only from a view
to our own happiness. The passions to which we give separate
names differ from each other, according to Hobbes, only in their
THE ACTIVE POWERS OP MAN. 267
outward aspect, that is, with reference to the different objects
towards which they are turned ; at bottom, they are but modifi
cations of the only true passion of which human nature is sus
ceptible, the love of self. If we honor or reverence another
being, he says, it is only because we are aware of his superior
power, and we desire to conciliate his good-will. Ridicule is
only an intense conception of our own superiority to the person
who is laughed at. Love, even that of a mother for her child,
is but prudent forecast, a lively anticipation of the services
which may be hereafter rendered us by the loved object. Pity
is the imagination of evil which may happen- to ourselves, ex
cited by contemplating the misfortunes of another. To be char
itable is only to be proudly conscious of having power enough
not merely to create (pur own happiness, Jbut to promote the
happiness of another. Thus, because the goodness of God has
so ordered the course of events, and so formed our hearts and
minds, that every kindly and noble feeling is its own reward,
and every generous and virtuous action redounds even to the
temporal advantage of the agent, does the perverse ingenuity
of the theorist twist all these feelings into forms of selfishness,
and represent the action as only simulating the virtues of which
human nature is really incapable. Because honesty in the
long run is the best policy, we are said to be honest only be
cause we are politic, and dread the consequences of detected
knavery.
Refutation of this system. This repulsive and degrading
theory could never have obtained the notice which it has re
ceived, if it had riot been urged with great ability by Hobbes,
a reasoner of singular acuteness, and one of the greatest mas
ters of prose style in the English language. The refutation, of
it has already been laid before you,fm the obvious fact, that the
primitive passions and desires all seek their several ends irrespec-^
tive of the consequences of their gratification. We claim no
more for the social desires than for the appetites. A man
drinks because he is thirsty, and not in order to preserve life,
though death would be the consequence of an utter privation of
liquids ; just so, he seeks society because he is gregarious by
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
nature, and not on account of the advantages he may derive
from the cooperation of his fellows, signal as these advantages
are found to be. In fact, he never could have known that so
ciety would be useful to him except from experience ; and he
could certainly have had no experience till a society was first
formed. Men were first brought together, then, without a pos
sibility of being acquainted with the only motives which, accord
ing to the selfish system, could ever bring them together.
Again, man is at one time benevolent or compassionate, just
as he is revengeful at another, without regard in either case to
the effect which giving way to the emotion may have upon his
own well-being. When stung by a keen sense of wrong, he will
often prosecute his revenge to the utter destruction of what are
called his worldly prospects, and knowing all the while that he
is rushing upon his ruin. So, if his pity is strongly excited, he
will attempt to relieve the distress in a manner which a mo
ment s reflection would have assured him would do great injury
to himself and to society, without materially benefiting the ob
ject of compassion. It is plain, therefore, thatf^e benevolent
affections are just as uncalculating and disinterested as their op-
posites, or those which tend to the harm of others, and no more
so. In truth, a theory which represents the affection of a mother,
when hanging over the cradle of her child, as dictated only by
a selfish regard for the comfort and advantage which that child
may hereafter afford to her declining years, hardly merits re
futation. Why, the brute feels this affection, if we may judge
from appearances, quite as strongly as the human being ; and
we know that the brute is incapable of calculating consequences.
The affections are not virtues. I have dwelt thus long upon
the selfish system, only to bring out into a stronger light the un
reflecting and irrational character of all the direct incentives to
action, including the affections and sentiments, as well as the
appetites, and so to justify the arrangement of them under so
low an attribute even as prudence or self-love; the sphere of
conscience, or the proper domain of morality, being as yet
hardly in sight. \ Our natural affections, as Dugald Stewart ^
observes, " cannot be exalted into virtues ; for in so far as they
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 269
arise from original constitution, they confer no merit whatever
on the individual, any more than his appetites or desires ; at
the same time, there is a manifest gradation in the sentiments
of respect with which we regard these different constituents of
character. Our desires, although not virtuous in themselves,
are manly and respectable, and plainly of greater dignity than
our animal appetites. In like manner, it may be remarked,
that our benevolent affections, although not meritorious, are
highly amiable. 19
To follow the blind impulse of a sentiment or emotion which
is not controlled or sanctioned by any higher faculty, is conduct
little worthy of a rational being. Yet human nature is far more
prone to this fault, than to the opposite excess of listening to the
cautious whisperings of self-love, which looks not only to pres
ent gratification, but to future and permanent well-being. There
is an exaltation in fine sentiment, a nobleness in the generous
affections, which hurries away the will, before consequences can
be estimated, or the craims even of justice can obtain a hearing.
But such enthusiasm is usually barren of good results, and how
ever amiable it may appear in the eyes of the unthinking, it
must not arrogate to itself the rewards of self-sacrificing virtue.
In such conduct, indeed, there is no abnegation of self; for
without reflection and forethought, there can be no conscious
ness of any advantage that is resigned, or any enjoyment that is
sacrificed. To act thus is the part rather of reckless and short
sighted selfishness, which covets the brief pleasure that always
follows the immediate gratification of the impulse of the mo
ment, whether that impulse tends to the welfare or the injury
of our fellow-beings. It cannot be amiss to determine, as I
have attempted to do, the true moral character of these original
incitements to action, since it is part of the philosophy of the
day, go called, to yield them implicit obedience. But I pass on.
Self-love subservient to conscience. Prudence, or self-love,
is distinguished from its rightful superior, the moral faculty, in
this, that ifthas regard only to the outward consequences of
actions. _] It governs and directs the desires and affections with
a view to the effects, whether near or remote, which their in-
23*
270 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
dulgence will have upon our future welfare. 1 Its functions,
therefore, are rational, but not properly moral\; while the mo-,
tives that it governs, as has been shown, are"~animal, for they
are common to man and the brute. Prudence never considers
the nature of the motive in itself, before it passes into action,
but only questions whether it may be indulged to advantage in
respect to the events which will follow its indulgence. It is the
servant of conscience, then, which never looks beyond the inner
man, and never speaks but with absolute authority.
The affections evince benevolent design. Before considering
the nature and functions of conscience, which is the only point
wanting to complete our survey of the moral nature of man, it
remains to be seen whether the affections are so constituted as
to afford any indications of the goodness and the will of the
Deity. As they are primitive in their character, or parts of the
original constitution of our being, whatever adaptations may be
found in them to the situation and wants of man are just
as much proofs of design, as the mlfet curious and useful
contrivances in our animal frame. If they are found to work
together, so that the ends toward which one is impelled by them
severally do not conflict, but harmonize, and the general result
is conduct which tends to the good both of the individual and
the race, the arrangement certainly shows the wisdom and
benevolence of the Designer even more clearly than these are
seen in the material universe. If a finer analysis should sho^v
that some of the feelings in question are not original, but ac
quired, that is, that they are not implanted at first in the
infant mind, but necessarily spring up afterwards, under the influ
ences to which that mind is always exposed, this will make no
difference as to the force or relevancy of the argument. It is
enough for our purpose, that the affection is necessarily devel
oped sooner or later, and that it tends to good. It may be, for
instance, that many of the kindly sentiments which are usually
distinguished by different names spring from the same root, and
are, in truth, but various forms of one primitive feeling ; their
subsequent divergence may be accounted for by the association
of ideas, or that law of our nature which often transfers attach-
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 271
ment from the end to the means. As the miser loves gold at
first only for the pleasures that it will purchase, but finally for
its own sake, so it may be, that friendship is but the transfer to
persons of the feelings of complacency and enjoyment first
produced by the sense of mutual obligation, and by the wish for
their recurrence. Thus there may be a selfish element in the
emotion at first ; but it purifies itself by indulgence and habit,
and is not perfected till it amounts to self-sacrifice.
It is obvious enough, that the affections of kindred, especially
those of parent and child, are chiefly useful for the preservation
of the race ; and this we may suppose to be the leading purpose
of their creation. But observe, further, how they cooperate with
the social feeling, and first make society possible, by affording a
type of it in the family. Submission to paternal authority
paves the way for obedience to a political head ; and the love of
kindred needs but little expansion to become a love of country.
Since the affections weaken as they expand, the most general
of all, philanthropy or universal benevolence, is quickened and
made intense by sympathy, a principle which is as unquestion- <
ably primitive or innate as the love of offspring, and is so uni
versal and salutary in its operation,) that an eminent moralist
has taken it to be the foundation or our ethical nature, or the
fountain of all the virtues. \It is the proper antagonist or cor
rective of selfishness, as under its impulse we instinctively make a
the sorrows and pleasures of others our own, and in turn feel
our own joys heightened, and sufferings diminished, through the
consciousness that they are shared by our neighbors. The
endowment of the human mind with this principle alone, peculiar
and striking as its effects are seen to be when we reflect upon
them, seems to me as plain an indication of the benevolence of
the Deity, and of his will that men should cultivate kindness and
affection for each other, as the explicit enunciation of the same
truths in Scripture. \/
Respective claims of the different affections. All the rela
tions in which we stand to our fellow-beings have separate
affections corresponding to them ; and our sense of the duties
which are incumbent upon us in each case, is developed and
272 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF
confirmed by this association, f The strength of the affection may
generally be taken as a safe measure of the duty. Parental love ^
is stronger than friendship ; sympathy with distress is more v
vivid than sympathy with enjoyment ; the love of family is more ^
powerful than the love of country ; and the love of country, again,
is more urgent than universal benevolence. \ Few will deny, that
the scale of duties exactly corresponds*~~to this gradation ; so
that, even if reason did not operate to show the comparative
utility of the performance of these duties, we should have what
might be called an instinctive appreciation of their relative im
portance. Theorists, it is true, have often tried to invert this
natural order of the virtues ; but, as might be expected, with
small success. Thus, circumstances led the ancients to ex
aggerate the merits of patriotism; and even Plato held the
opinion, that the indulgence of the domestic affections unfitted
men for the discharge of their political duties ; he went so far
as to propose, on this account, that children should be separated
from their parents immediately after birth, and brought up at
the public expense. (The enthusiasm of modern times lias
taken a somewhat different course . universal philanthropy is
now the fashionable virtue, and it is preached up to an extent
that throws all the most private affections into the shade, even
if it does not menace their extinction. But the duties which lie
within the narrowest circle are most frequent in their recur
rence, and so tend to keep up the habit of virtue ; while the
benevolent feeling which can take in no less an object than the
whole human race, for want of striking occasions on which to
manifest itself, is apt to be wasted in speculation and magnificent^
professions.} There is deep meaning in the language of our
Saviour, when he inculcates love to all mankind under the figure
rf of love to our neighbor.
Lofty and abstract principles not needed for every-day guid
ance. Be not always eager, then, to direct your course only by
some lofty, abstract, and distant principles, to the disregard of
the humbler and more practical rules of morals which shine
directly around and near our daily life. This is the folly of
attempting to steer always by the stars, though the coast be
THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 273
near at hand, and the low, familiar beacons on it, if we will only
heed them, will guide us safely into port. And do not, if you
get into difficulty by acting in this manner, lay all the blame
upon the stars ; they shine in their proper places, but we have
no instruments nice enough to take their precise bearings, where v
a very slight error might lead to fatal -consequences. High
principles are always right ; but we make egregious mistakes in
attempting to act upon them on slight and familiar occasions,
when there are less ambitious, but safer, rules of guidance at t
hand, if we will only heed them. These lofty maxims come ?
into play but seldom, on great occasions ; and even then, they
serve only as comprehensive precepts for the general formation
of our hearts and characters, and not as precise rules of con-
*duct, that are serviceable on particular emergencies. We look
to the stars for pilotage when we are in the midst of a broad
and trackless ocean, and no landmarks are in sight ; and they
show us only the general direction in which we ought to steer.
When the breakers are close around us, it is no time to look
aloft. Goethe gives good advice : If perplexed by the many
calls that are made upon us, and by conflicting rules of life, let
us always do first the nearest duty ; when this is finished, the
others will already have become clearer.
The affections indicate their objects. The affections, like the
desires, create a feeling of uneasiness and discontent in the
absence of their respective objects, and prompt to exertion for
the supply of the deficiency. The love of friends is a craving
which makes itself more or less distinctly known according to
the experience which we have had of companionship. " As
the lamb," says an able writer, " when it strikes with the fore
head while yet unarmed, proves that it is not its weapons which
determine its instincts, but that it has preexistent instincts suited
to its weapons, so, when we see an animal deprived of the sight
of its fellows cling to a stranger, or disarm by its caresses the
rage of an enemy, we perceive the workings of a social instinct,
not only not superinduced by external circumstances, but mani
festing itself in spite of circumstances which are adverse to its
operation. The same remark may be extended to man ; when
274 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN.
%
in solitude he languishes, and, by making companions of the
lower animals, or by attaching himself to inanimate objects,
strives to fill up th e void of which he is conscious." The feel
ing is blind, indeed ; instinct in animals, and reason in man,
alone can supply the means of satisfying the want; but we
know that there is a want, and that the uneasiness jyill remain
till it is gratified.
A still more striking instance of this truth may be found in
the religious sentiment, to which I have already often alluded.
Man is created with a capacity and inclination for worship, with
a deep feeling of veneration, which finds no appropriate object
on which to expend itself among the persons and things with
whom he is associated on earth, but constantly seeks for such
an object, and usually finds it, in the conception of some spiritual
existence higher and holier than any created being. From this
fact alone can we explain the endless variety of religious sys
tems which have obtained in the world, no nation or race hav
ing ever been discovered, which had no form of religious wor
ship. The savage makes his idol of a block or stone. The
half-enlightened barbarian finds a Divinity all around him, and
peoples the mountains, the streams, and the forests with their
attendant deities. When more cultivated, his thirst for knowl
edge leads him to study the heavens, and the sun, moon, and
stars become his gods. Finally, whether as the last triumph of
the unaided intellect or by special revelation, the sublime doc
trine of monotheism is preached to the world, and calls forth the
purest form and highest degree of reverence of which the
human heart is capable.
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 275
CHAPTER III.
THE NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF CONSCIENCE.
Summary of the last chapter. I endeavored to show, in the
last chapter, from a comparison of the human faculties with those
of the brutes, that discipline, or self-development, is the great
end of our existence upon earth ; mere enjoyment, or the con
scious gratification of desire, being only a secondary aim. The
prevalence of law, or the uniformity of causation, in the mate
rial universe, is not intended merely to uphold and continue this
universe, an object which might be accomplished far more
easily and directly, but to operate as a means for this educa
tion of man ; that is, to guide the conduct of a being who is not,
like the brutes, conducted blindfold and unconsciously to the
performance of every work that is necessary for the continua
tion and welfare of his species, but is rendered capable, through
freewill, judgment, and forethought, of acting for himself. An
examination of the lower motive powers of the human mind
the appetites, affections, and desires, was intended to prove
that they are mere blind impulses, or springs of activity, differ
ing from each other in strength, but having regard only to their
own immediate gratification ; the objects of them being sought
invariably as ends, not as means. So far as man is under their
guidance, he has no superiority over the other orders of the
animal creation. Prudence, or self-love^is the first element of
his intellectual being; the office of this faculty is to restrain
the jDrimitive impulses and desires, to ascertain the relative im
portance of the ends towards which they are directed, and thus
to subject the lower to the higher, and to make all of them con- /A
duce to the working out of that scheme of happiness;) or general
well-being, which has been devised by the intellect.
Man as a rational and prudent being. Here, then, man first
appears in his distinctive character as a rational being. He is
276 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
not yet a moral one. His own happiness is the highest end
that is yet in view, and all things are judged or estimated by
their relative fitness to promote this single object. They are
compared with each other, ^o^as^^g^^c^evil^^^s^e^^ent
or injurious. The desires and affections are not considered in
themselves, or with reference to their inherent character, but
are viewed only indirectly, through the outward consequences
which will result from their indulgence. There is room enough
for the exercise of freewill, even if we look only to these exter
nal results. The immediate impulse, or passion of the moment,
which always determines the action of the brute, is checked or
restrained by man, till he can see the probable effect of giving
way to it. At least, this is what he is capable of doing, and
what he must do, if he would exercise those prerogatives of his"
nature through which alone he is placed at the head of the ani
mal creation.
Man as a moral being. But is this all ? Have we com
pleted the description of human nature, when man is made to
appear as a being endowed with reason and foresight, free to
act, and able to learn through experience what actions will most
effectually promote his present and future -happiness? The
consciousness of every individual will answer, that it is not all ;
that there is an element of our nature, which excels prudenc^
more than prudence excels animal instinct or passion. \ This ]
principle extends its jurisdiction over our whole being, claim- \
ing authority to control and subdue the promptings .of self-love j
as absolutely as it overrules the appetites and desires. By the
side ofjprudence, or above it, ^introduces the novel conception
of duty)oY moral obligation ; over personal happiness, as an ob
ject of effort and a guide to action, it places the idea of absolute
right. \ Putting aside the consideration of external things, it
erects its throne in the soul of man, and| judges, not the outward!
\ act, but the motwe^^ndintej^iojis which lead to it and constitute
its moral character. Dealing thus exclusively ivith conceptions
of the intellect, or pure ideas, all contingency or uncertainty dis
appears from its decisions, and the sentence which it pro
nounces is as unchangeable as the purposes of the Almighty.
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 277
It supplies the medium and the standard of judgment through
which we regard our own conduct and that of our fellow-beings,
and form our notions of the attributes of God. Here, then, is
the proper foundation of Natural Religion. Natural Theology,
which is the product of the intellect, makes us acquainted with
the being and the natural attributes of the Deity, such as his
infinite duration, power, and wisdom, merely as facts of science,
or truths for contemplation. Natural Religion, proceeding from
conscience, makes known to us his moral nature, his purposes
and will, and so terminates, not in knowledge, but in action.
It is difficult to explain the nature and functions of conscience,
without seeming to dwell on mere truisms, or to adopt an ab
struse and technical phraseology, which will tend rather to
confuse than to rectify our notions of the subject. The terms
expressive of moral distinctions, and of our feelings in regard to
them, have so passed into common use as an integral part of all
languages, and we have so frequent occasion for them both in
writing and conversation, that it is not an easy task to call
attention to the fundamental facts in our constitution which
they signify, or to imagine what the nature of man would be, or
how it would appear, if it were suddenly deprived of the moral
faculty altogether, so that these words and phrases should no
longer convey any intelligible meaning. Yet this is what is
necessary to be done, before we can gain a clear conception of
the office of conscience, or of the nature of the addition which it
makes to the merely animal and the merely intellectual part of
our being. To analyze, or otherwise describe, the ideas of right
and wrong^is quite as difficult as to furnish correct and lucid
definitions of the particles, or connecting links of speech, which
we learn to apply, through long experience, with great precis
ion, though their very commonness makes it hard to show what
is their exact meaning. The particles themselves enter into
every definition we can form of them. So we cannot show what
the dictates of conscience are, without presupposing that every one
has a conscience, and can listen to its voice. My object is, to
show the importance and the distinctive character of this ethi
cal element in the human constitution ; thatit is not blended
278 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
with, or made up from, our other faculties, but is original and
peculiar ; that it makes a large addition to the stock of our ideas
derived from other sources, and in fact modifies and controls
the whole nature of man./
Increase of knowledge by the addition of a new sense. It is
not easy, perhaps, to imagine how our perceptions of external
objects would be affected, if the number of the senses were sud
denly increased, and, through the addition of another organ, we
were enabled to look into the internal constitution of things, of
which we have now only a superficial knowledge. We may
form some idea, however, of the change that would thus be pro
duced, by considering the case of a person bprn blind, and
remaining so for many years, To him, the word color has ab
solutely no meaning, and no combination of words, no illustra
tions drawn from the ideas furnished by the other senses, could
ever give him even the remotest conception of what the word
signifies. It is said, that such a person, being once asked what
idea he had of an object colored red, answered, that he thought
it must resemble the sound of a trumpet ; and this reply, ex
travagant as it seems, really eomes as near the truth as any
which the most gifted intellect, under such circumstances, ever
has given, or ever can give. Now suppose, that from a human
being who has long labored under this awful privation, the veil
should in one moment be removed, that the scales should fall
from his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he should be able
to see. For the first time, upon his aching and astonished sense,
bursts the glorious prospect of this green earth, its hills, plains,
woods, and waters, with their thousand hues, and, bending over
all, the blue arch of heaven, relieved only by vast folds of white
cloud, lit up by the intolerable splendor of a noonday sun, or, at
eve, " thick inlaid with patines of bright gold." The rush of
overwhelming sensations that would oppress and burden his
spirit under such circumstances, could be adequately described
only in the poet s inspired language :
" He looked ;
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth,
And ocean s liquid mass beneath him lay,
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 279
In gladness and deep joy Sound needed none,
Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank
The spectacle ; sensation, soul, and form
All melted into him In such high hour
Of visitation from the living God,
Thought was not ; in enjoyment it expired."
The addition to his stock of knowledge would not cease with
the first view of this grand spectacle, or be limited to ideas of
color alone. How long, it has been asked, would it take, for a
person born blind , to acquire, by the unaided sense of touch, a
complete idea of the front of a large Gothic cathedral, with its
profusion of ornament and minuteness of tracery ? The power
of vision would increase a thousand-fold the aptitude of this
other sense to convey the information that is really peculiar to
it, though it is now so quickly suggested by visual sensations,
that it seems to us attributable to the eye alone. Strictly speak
ing, as I explained in a former chapter, we see nothing but
color ; the ideas of distance, magnitude, and shape, which seem
to be derived immediately from sight, being in truth first com
municated to us through touch, or what has been called the
musrcular sense, and are afterwards suggested to the eye through
the varieties of tint, of light and shade, with which they are
found to be invariably associated. Then, as the education of
the newly acquired sense was gradually perfected, it would
become the constantly enlarging inlet of new ideas, till all the
knowledge previously acquired from other sources should seem
as nothing, when compared with the flood of information thus
swiftly, and without effort, conveyed to the mind by a new organ
of perception. It will hardly be deemed too fanciful to add,
that if, in a future state of being, our power of acquiring
knowledge is to be immeasurably increased, we can imagine no
more direct mode of effecting this end, than by the endowment
of the soul with new organs of sense ; or rather, by stripping it
entirely of the opaque and perishable covering of clay that now
limits its perceptions and veils its glories, and in which the *
senses that we now possess are but narrow loopholes, through
which we catch faint glimpses of the universe that God has
made.
280 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
The addition of conscience equivalent to the creation of a new
sense. To apply this illustration to the subject before us, I
say that the situation of the intellect which had never known
the eye for its minister, or as an inlet of knowledge, would be
but a faint parallel of the condition of the soul, or the whole
man, on whom the light of conscience never beamed, and who,
consequently, has no moral ideas whatever, but is as ignorant
of the meaning of right and wrong, duty and obligation, as the
man born blind is of color. The. ideas, conceptions, or feelings,
call them what you may, which come to us through this
source, are as peculiar and distinctive, as impossible to be de
rived from any other fountain than that which actually does
furnish them, as are the sensations of vision. They enter into
and influence all our deliberations ; they mould our judgments
of our fellow-beings and of ourselves ; they furnish a new guide
to conduct ; they lend a new aspect to life. I do not speak
now only of those over whose actions and thoughts they habit
ually exercise a strong influence. I do not speak only of good
men, or of any class of men, as distinguished from others ; I
speak of all human beings, of man himself, and of that which
makes him what he is, a man, and not a brute. Human
nature is essentially moral, and we can no more put off, or lay
aside, even for a time, this attribute of our being, than we can
discard reason and take instinct in its place. There are im
moral men, who hear the voice of conscience, but heed it not;
but there is no such thing as an amoral man, to whom con
science speaks not at all. At any rate, no such being can be
found out of a madhouse ; and even there, what we see is not
so much the absolute privation of the rational and moral facul
ties, as the awful spectacle of reason and conscience alike in
ruins.
Instances of ideas and distinctions perceived by conscience
alone. Let me try to illustrate this point ; though, for the
reason already mentioned, it is hard to put it in a clear light for
those who are not accustomed to abstractions, without seeming
to dwell upon facts which are too obvious for notice. Suppose,
then, that two persons, in whom we are equally interested,
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 281
receive each an injury of the same magnitude, and attended
with precisely similar results ; let the two cases, in fine, be en
tirely parallel, except in this single particular, that in the one,
the injury done was wilful, wanton, and unprovoked, while in
the other, it was wholly accidental. Observe that the supposed
distinction between the two cases rests upon no outward fact,
upon nothing visible to sense, but upon the secret motives
and intentions of the authors of the deed, upon what was
passing in their minds before the blows were struck. Yet all
mankind acknowledge this difference to be real and vitally im
portant; they allow it to exercise entire control over their
judgment of the two transactions, over the opinions which they
form and express of them, and over their subsequent feelings
towards the agents of the mischief. In every language that is
spoken upon the earth, there are words to express the difference
between simple harm and positive wrong. We can easily im
agine a person wicked and brutal enough to commit the injury
in the causeless manner first mentioned ; but we cannot imagine
any human being either bad or stupid enough to be affected in
precisely the same manner in the two cases, and to see only
equal cause for blame and praise in them. An animal grazing
in the field might turn an equally careless eye upon the out
ward tokens of the harm done in both instances ; and if we
could suppose its instinct to be so far supplanted by reason that
it could know the one deed to be intentional, and the other acci
dental, we should still believe that it would retain its indif
ference, unless, by a further change in its nature, the gift of
moral, should be added to that of intellectual perception. My
point is, ih&dconscience differs as widely from reason, as rea
son does from instinct. I
We may take another instance from the affection of ge$eal
kfinwnlenc.p,. or the desire of doing good to mankind. This is a
primitive or natural impulse, somewhat strengthened by sym
pathy, which seeks its own end without regard to any ulterior
gratification, and, when pure and unmixed, without reference
to any higher law or motive. The private relations between
the two parties, the giver and receiver of the benefit, do not
24*
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
increase or diminish the addition that is made to the stock of
human happiness. We sympathize involuntarily with happi
ness conferred ; we rejoice at the opening of new avenues to
human enjoyment. Now, suppose that the means of pleasure
thus bestowed were not the rightful property of the donor, that
they were not his to give. He had them only in trust from one
to whom they properly belonged, and who would very certainly
have made a bad use of them, have devoted them only to
selfish purposes, or perhaps to doing evil instead of good to his
fellow-men, if they had remained in his possession. No matter ;
justice requires that they should have been restored to him, to
be squandered or misused as he saw fit. Here, then, the feel
ings of justice and benevolence are in conflict ; and what human
being hesitates to admit that the claims of the former are supe
rior ? I have intentionally taken an instance which proves that
mere philanthropy, or the desire of promoting the happiness of
others, though it is the most estimable of the affections, is not
the whole duty of man ; and, consequently, that the affections
alone, being impulsive and irrational in their nature, are an
insufficient guide to conduct. There are many, perhaps, who,
in the case supposed, would sacrifice justice to benevolence ;
but they would still be conscious if not at the moment, at any
rate, after time had come for reflection that they had acted
wrong.
Conscience the sole voucher of its own authority. What is
this sentiment or idea of moral wrong, which arises not merely
in the two instances I have mentioned, but so frequently in
every healthy mind as to influence our conduct in all the rela
tions of life? It surely is not conveyed to us through the
senses ; nor is it the offspring of the affections or desires, the
impulsive part of our nature, to which it is frequently set in
opposition. Is it the product of intellect, then ? The office of
this faculty, we know, is to discover truth, to discern the fitness
of means to ends, to perceive the relation of premises to conclu
sions. It has nothing to do with action, but is limited entirely
to contemplation. In the first case mentioned, reason might
inform us of the fact, that the one deed was purposed, and the
THE NATURE OP CONSCIENCE. 283
other casual ; this truth would be learned by inference from
certain outward circumstances that enable us to judge of the
intentions of the parties. The intellect stops here ; the judg
ment subsequently passed, the idea of guilt or innocence that
supervenes, is not related to the knowledge thus obtained, as an
inference is to its premises, or as ah end to means employed.
Why is intentional harm done to a fellow-being a wrong ? Wo
cannot tell. Why are the claims of justice superior to those
of benevolence ? We cannot tell. But we know that it is
so, not only in the judgment of men, but in the councils of
God.
And further, the idea of retribution or punishment arises after
that of acknowledged wrong, even when the injured person is
beyond the reach of reparation, and when we are not looking to
the reformation of the guilty. Human legislation, indeed, i.s
properly confined to these two ends, and to the protection of
society. Human laws aim to provide for the redress of injuries,
the reformation of the criminal, and the welfare of all classes ;
but they seek to accomplish these ends at the expense of the
offender. It is just, it is right, that the wrongdoer should suf
fer : we admit this principle intuitively, though it is directly
opposed to the dictates of sympathy and natural benevolence,
which aim to prevent all suffering. The decisions of conscience,
then, are authoritative and supreme. It overlooks and controls
the lower motives to action, even those which are most amiable
or excellent; its voice is never heard but in tones of absolute
command. " If it had might, as it has right, it would govern
the world."
Conscience infallible within its proper sphere. This brings
me to the next characteristic of the moral faculty in its proper
sphere, the absolute certainty of its decisions. I say "in its
proper sphere," because, as we had occasion to remark in the
former Pa4, the undue extension of the commands of con
science beyond their proper subjects, the motives and intentions
of men, to the external acts or occurrences through which those
intentions are manifested, often creates doubts, and gives oppor
tunity to question its absolute veracity. But in its own domain,
284 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
Y
in the sanctuary of the soul, where all thoughts and motives are
judged, it is an undoubted sovereign. The certainty of its de
cisions is like that which belongs to the convictions of the under
standing in regard to abstract truth. Right and wrong are not
interchangeable even in ideaj we cannot imagine, we cannot
even conceive, of any instance in which the one should be sub
stituted for the other. As it is not within the power even of
Omnipotence to reverse the abstract laws of number and space,
so it is not his to alter the moral relations of thoughts and acts,
and our judgments of them, through which we look up rever
ently to his throne, and form our conceptions of infinite holi-
. ness, justice, and truth personified in him. This is only saying,
that it is impossible for the Divine nature to act contrary to it
self. The sublime exclamation of Pythagoras, when contem
plating the immutable relations of space, " God himself geome-
trizes," expresses but feebly the absolute trust with which the
soul reposes on those intuitions of eternal and necessary truth,
which are vouchsafed to us as the foundations of our moral and
intellectual^ being.
Conscience contrasted with taste in respect to the immutability
of its decisions. We may gain a clearer idea of the infalli
bility of conscience, by comparing it with the other capacities
of our nature, with which, at first sight, it seems most nearly
allied. Take the emotions of taste, for instance. The contem
plation of an exquisite work of art, or of grand and striking
scenery in nature, affects us with a lively and agreeable feeling,
which we call the perception of beauty or sublimity. All men
are subject to it, though in different degrees, depending on the
cultivation of the taste. But there is nothing absolute or im
mutable in our ideas of the qualities which call it forth. The
child is delighted with that which appears to the adult as gaudy,
puerile, or unnatural. Nay, there is a " want of agreement as
to the presence and existence of beauty in partio*ilar objects
among men whose organization is perfect, and who are plainly
possessed of the faculty, whatever it may be, by which beauty
is discerned. One man sees it perpetually, where to another it
is quite invisible, or even where its reverse seems to be con-
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 285
spicuous. Nor is this owing to the insensibility of either of the
parties ; for the same contrariety exists where both are keenly
alive to the influences of the beauty they respectively discern.
The gardens, the furniture, the dress, which appeared beautiful
in the eyes of our grandfathers, are odious and ridiculous in
ours. Nay, the difference of rank, education, or employments,
gives rise to the same diversity of sensation." And even if all
men could be brought to unanimity upon this point, we could
still conceive of such an alteration in their capacity of discerning
beauty, that what is now most pleasing to them should become
disagreeable, and the reverse. In fine, the beauty or sublimity
which we discern is in our own minds ; and we do not know,
that is, we cannot be sure, that there is any thing corresponding
to them in the world without, or in the intrinsic nature of
things.
But it is not so with our perceptions of moral good and evil.
Try to imagine that the relations of right and wrong are re
versed, that it is just to deceive, or to withhold from another
his own, that it is commendable to inflict a wanton injury
upon a fellow-being, and that falsehood is more praiseworthy
than truth. You cannot do it. The principles which forbid
such a reversal of judgment are erected, whether you will or
no, whether your conduct conforms to them or not, into abso
lute standards in your own minds, to which you refer every
motive and action for approbation or censure. TThe ideas of (
right, of duty, of moral obligation, are inwrought with our in
most being, and we can no more conceive that they are subjec
tive only, or without a basis in the essential nature of things,
than we can imagine the .annihilation of time and space.; It is
conceivable, indeed, though the supposition is a violent one, that
the constitution of our minds should be altered far enough for
us to see these things reversed, and to imagine that injustice
and falsehood were meritorious. Just so we admit the possibil
ity of insanity. But we cannot admit that such a change
would be in the direction of the truth, or that, when it had
taken place, we should not be laboring under a fatal error.
Bight and duty, as we now perceive them, are absolute concep-
286 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
tions, and must exist as they are, wholly irrespective of the
manner in which they are viewed by different minds.
Moral obligation universally admitted to be supreme. The
correctness and the unanimity of men s moral judgments must
be clearly distinguished from their universal acknowledgment
of the supremacy of moral obligation. There is considerable
" diversity of opinion in the former respect, in the estimate which
we may form of the moral character of certain actions, and es
pecially of the relative importance of certain duties ; though ,, ; i >
men s ideas on this subject usually converge, just in proportion
as they become enlightened, and inform their minds by reflec- r$.
tion and experience. Savages may deem it -right to plunder
and to kill ; the Spartans taught their children to steal ; the
ancients generally held that falsehood and deceit were justifi
able, if practised for the public good, and not for one s individ
ual advantage. But none of these doubted that the right, as
they esteemed it, was obligatory ; they acknowledged with one
voice, that they were bound to practise it. The words duty and
law had as much meaning and force in their ears, as they have
among the most enlightened and most Christian communities of
our own times, j It is this sense of obligation, this recognition
of an act as something which ought to be done, or to be left
undone, which is the capital fact in our moral being ; it is the
foundation and superstructure of our moral nature. It is not
an idea furnished by the senses, or in any way suggested by
sensation. ; Men may differ in applying this idea of duty ; they
may consider one or another act as binding upon them ; but
the/ never fail to recognize obligation somewhere, to acknowl
edge its rightful supremacy, and to distinguish it clearly from
the feeling of compulsion, or restraint. And the instances even
of mistaken application of the idea of duty are so few and un
important, that they may properly be viewed as perversions of
the moral faculty, rather than as proofs of its original incapacity
or blindness. Morality, as a general rule, needs not to be
taught, but to be guarded against the effects of wrong teaching.
The unperverted conscience of a child shrinks from the act
which its fanatical parents attempt to impose as a duty. /
-/
THEt NATURE OF CONSCIENCE, 287
i Attempts to account for the supremacy of conscience^ Butler
ami Mackintosh, with other writers upon the theory of ethics,
have been much exercised in the attempt to find a basis for the
supremacy of conscience, or a reason for the despotic authority
which it claims over the other principles and motives of our
nature. They thought it necessary to justify the overruling
and despotic influence, which the moral faculty claims over the
whole man, but does not always succeed in enforcing, since the
lower propensities often exceed it in strength. I have an im
pulse, it is true, to be just to my fellow man ; but I have also an
impulse to gratify my anger, to pamper my appetites, to secure
the means of selfish enjoyment, and even to assist the unfortu
nate with the property which happens to be in my hands, though
it really belongs to another. These two impulses often clash,
and the latter, which is rightfully the inferior one, frequently
gets the upperhand. Why, then, do I believe that it is rightfully
inferior, or why do I feel compunction after it has triumphed ?
If the sentiment of duty comes in conflict with a feeling so
powerful as self-love, or so amiable as benevolence, though I
have a distinct consciousness that the former ought to prevail,
it is well to see if there are any good grounds for tliis assumed
superiority, and thus to fortify the demands of conscience by
satisfying the reason.
, Sir James \MackintosM thought that he had found a basis for/
this claim of supreme authority in the fact, that conscience acts\
directly upon the inner man, having its throne within the soul,|
while all the other impulses and desires point to outward objects.^
The sense of duty governs the motives, intentions, and dispo
sitions of men. Hence it is universal, or it regulates the whole
conduct and character; while the objects of the other propensi
ties are particular, as well as external. _.., If I yield to anger ? for
instance, while all my other passions and appetites are restrain
ed by the law of conscience, the act of resentment is perceived
to violate the harmony of the system ; it is an act of disorder,
which will be recognized as such when the temporary excitement
subsides. Again, the objects of the passions and desires being
external, I must use means for their gratification. I may not
THE NATURE OF CONSCIEIWE.
be able to gratify my appetite, because I cannot find the means
of doing so. But I can always satisfy my conscience, because
here no means are needed ; the will, the intention, is enough ;
duty asks nothing more. The failure pfthe intention may cause
sorrow, but cannot produce remorse. \j Hence, conscience is in
dependent, or sufficient unto itself; while the gratification of
every other impulse depends on outward circumstances.] Pas
sion often defeats itself; the desires remain unsatisfied ; appe
tite cannot obtain its appropriate food ; self-love not infrequently
brings its own punishment. But the sense of duty never fails,
and yielding to it is at once success and enjoyment.
Futility of these attempts. These suggestions of an accom
plished moralist, though they illustrate the general subject, do
not seem to me to throw much light upon the particular inquiry
in which we are now engaged. It is true, that conscience is
universal and independent, as well as supreme ; but it does not
appear very clearly haw the latter attribute is a conseqdence
of the two former ones. Though I am independent, it does not
follow that I am entitled to command ; though not subject to
control, I may not be permitted to exercise it. Moreover, pru
dence, or an enlightened self-love, seems to have quite as wide
a domain as the moral sense ; it also is universal, for it often
assumes to regulate the whole conduct and character, with a
view only to the individual s own future happiness. Yet no
one thinks of saying that it is supreme. I need not dweU upon
attempts less ingenious and plausible than that of Mackintosh
to solve this problem, since all occasion for them disappears
when we come to examine the subject more closely.
The supremacy of conscience an ultimate fact. A full analy
sis^ of our moral perceptions will show, if I mistake not, that the
supremacy of conscience is an ultimate fact, and that we cannot
go behind it, or give a reason for it, without reasoning in a
circle, or virtually denying the very point we attempt to prove.
To ask why I ought to obey the law of right, is, in truth, to sup
pose that there is some obligation of greater moment than the
sense of duty, some consideration which needs to be alleged in
its support, and thus to take for granted that it is not supreme.
* THE NATURE OP CONSCIENCE. 289
We might as well ask a reason for our belief that every event
must have a cause.
Moral taste explained. Certain motives and actions are
made known to me, and recognized by conscience, as good and
right. I may simply contemplate them with complacency and
approbation, just as I am gratified with the view of a beautiful
landscape, or struck with awe at the sight of the starry heavens,.
A kind of moral taste is thus formed, which is productive of as
much enjoyment, when properly cultivated, as our sensibility to
the other emotions of taste, or our capacity of receiving pleas
ure through the senses. Though I were incapable of action
myself, and therefore should never have occasion to apply the
epithets to my own conduct, I should still derive pleasure from
awarding them to others, and from reflecting on their deeds
which merit to be so distinguished. We see an obvious illustra
tion of this fact in the j pleasure that we derive from fictitious
representations of life, which call all our moral sentiments into
play, though we are perfectly conscious at the time, that the
incidents are imaginary. In reading a novel, or seeing a the- I
atrical performance, we are pained and disappointed, if the \
rules of " poetical justice," as it is termed, are not observed. It
is a noble characteristic of the taste and conscience of man, that
they require in art a closer adherence to the principles of the
beautiful, the just, and the right, than we can reasonably expect
to be exemplified in nature and life. The beau-ideal is not
found in the world; poetical justice is confessedly unreal; it
does not follow merit and demerit in this stage of existence.
But the restraint of circumstances is not felt in the province of
invention ; and where man is the creator, he becomes responsi
ble for the whole work. He is bound to " submit the shows of
things to the desires of the mind." If he cannot embody in his
work that perfect beauty and absolute right, of which we dream,
and to which we are constantly reaching forward, he is under
an obligation, at least, not to allow the virtuous to go finally
unrewarded, nor the wicked to triumph.
Moral taste shown to be insufficient. But we shall ha ve a
most imperfect view of ^he action of the moral faculty, if we
25
290 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
stop here, j This merely intellectual view of right and wrong,
this cool survey of motives and conduct in their ethical aspect,
this^feast of the moral sensibilities at the table of fictionfwill be
almost as profitless in its consequences, as it is meagre and un
satisfactory in point of scientific truth.^ We must go back to
the origin of these distinctions, to the primal revelations of con
science, and see where it is that the ideas of monal good and
evil have their birth. What is most peculiar and original in
the action of this faculty, and from which, indeed, all the other
moral facts of our nature are but inferences and generalizations,
is the impulse of duty, or the feeling of moral obligation. / am
bound to act with justice and benevolence ; / ought to do right
and to follow after truth. This sense of obligation, this recog
nition of an absolute and rightful command, having reference
only to conduct, is what we call conscience, in its simplest and
primitive meaning. The words right and wro^.have no sig
nificance, except as convenient appellations afterwards given by
the intellect to those deeds which I am thus bound to perform
or abstain from. Merit and demerit signify only the feelings
which arise in my mind according as this command has been
obeyed or violated. We cannot analyze this feeling or idea of
duty, for, being simple, it does not admit of resolution into parts,
or explanation by any more obvious terms. To have it is to
recognize its authority, for positive obligation is supreme in its
very nature ; nothing can come in conflict with it but desire,
which is no obligation at all. j
There is a confusion of speech, then, in asking why we are
bound to comply with the requisitions of conscience ; it is re
quiring one to tell why it is a duty to perform a duty, thus
indicating a doubt whether there is any such thing as original
and necessary obligation. Whatever answer is given, it is evi
dent that the question may be continually repeated. If it be said,
for instance, that I must obey conscience because it .is expedi
ent, or because it is conformable to the fitness of things, or to
reason, or because it is the will of God, the question instantly
recurs, Why am I obliged to do what is expedient, or to con
form to reason or the fitness of things^ or to obey the will of
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 291
God ? The higher reason of man never thus returns in a circle
upon itself, for ever seeking without coming to a knowledge of
the truth. What we mean by asking in reference to any par
ticular action, Why is it a duty ? why ought I to perform it ?
is no more than this : Prove to me that it is a duty ; only
place it before me in so clear a light that my conscience shall
recognize and approve it, and I ask for no higher sanction. The
absolute obligation of the deed is then revealed to me.
Right implies obligation. This doctrine is very clearly arid
forcibly stated by Dr. Adams, a moralist of Oxford. "Right"
says he, " implies duty in its idea. To perceive an action to be
right, is to see a reason for doing it in the action itself, abstract
ed from all other considerations whatever ; and this perception,
this acknowledged rectitude in the action, is the very essence
of obligation, that which commands the approbation and
choice, and binds the conscience of every rational human being.
Nothing can bring us under an obligation to do what appears to
our moral judgment wrong. It may be supposed our interest
to do this, but it cannot be supposed our duty. For, I ask, if
some power, which we are unable to resist, should assume the
command over us; and give us laws which are unrighteous and
unjust, should we be under an obligation to obey him? Should
we not rather be obliged to shake off the yoke, and to resist
such usurpation, if it were in our power ? However, then, we
might be swayed by hope or fear, it is plain that we are under
an obligation to right, which is antecedent, and in order and
nature superior, to all other. Power may compel, interest may
bribe, pleasure may persuade, but reason [conscience] only can
oblige. This is the only authority which rational beings can
own, and to which they owe obedience."
All lesser obligations are resolvable into this primal idea of
duty, and are, in truth, but the various forms which this idea as
sumes, when it is applied to the various relations and circum
stances of life. Thus, the state, the society, or the family, to
which one belongs, is said to have authority over him, and he is
bound to render obedience to that authority, and to its expressed
will in the form of law,* But so far as this obedience is not the
292 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
effect of compulsion or of the persuasion of interest, it is ren
dered only because reason brings the acts which are preserva
tive of such associations within the sphere of conscience, and this
faculty makes them obligatory, in the proper sense of that word.
Law itself, whether human or Divine, is but a generalization of
the commands of conscience, and has no proper authority but
what is derived from this source, however it may be surrounded
with rewards and punishments, which are intended to act upon
our prudence or self-love. It is this wide compass and cease
less application of the primitive sense of duty, which lends all
its force to Wordsworth s magnificent exaggeration of the idea,
in his Ode to this " stern daughter of the voice of God."
" Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong,
And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong/^
Why law is applied metaphorically to physical events. We
see, then, how violent is the metaphor by which we apply the
term law to the uninterrupted, or causal, succession of events in
the physical world. We speak, for instance, of the constant
movements of the planets in their courses as the consequence of
the law of gravitation, finding no figure more appropriate to
express the immutable order of their motions, than to represent
these vast orbs as voluntary agents, hearkening to the stern
monitor within the breast, following its dictates with implicit
obedience, and thus preserving the eternal harmony of the uni
verse. The awful supremacy of conscience is thus extended,
though by a figure of speech, over the material creation ; and
we mark our sense of the absolute character of moral obligation
by applying it to what is most fixed and unchangeable among
the works of God.
Even bad men acknowledge conscience to be supreme. I draw
one other illustration of this subject from Dugald Stewart, in
his fine remark, that " the supreme authority of conscience is
felt and tacitly acknowledged by the worst, no less than by the
best, of men ; for even they who have thrown off all hypocrisy
with the world, are at pains to conceal tjieir real character from
their own eyes. No man ever, in soliloquy or private medita-
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 293
tion, avowed to himself that he was a villain ; nor do I believe
that such a character as Joseph Surface, in the School for Scan
dal, (who is introduced as reflecting coolly on his own knavery
and baseness, without any uneasiness but what arises from the
dread of detection,) ever existed in the world. Such men prob
ably impose on themselves fully as much as they do upon
others. Hence the various artifices of self-deceit, which But
ler has so well described in his discourses on that subject."
" "We may defend villany," says Lord Shaftesbury, as quoted
by Dugald Stewart, " and cry up folly before the world. But
to appear fools, madmen, or varlets to ourselves, and prove it to
our own faces that we are really such, is insupportable. For
so true a reverence has every one for himself, when he comes
clearly to appear before his close companion, that he had rather
profess the vilest things of himself in open company, than hear
his character privately from his own mouth. So that we may
readily from hence conclude, that the chief interest of ambition,
avarice, corruption, and every sly insinuating vice, is to pre
vent this interview and familiarity of discourse, which is conse
quent upon close retirement and inward recess."
The Moral distinguished from the Physical Sciences. The
metaphorical application of words, the frequent interchange of
terms between the Moral and the Physical Sciences, has tended
greatly to obscure and perplex the subject of which we are now
treating, and to cover up some essential differences which would
otherwise appear in the clearest light to the understanding. A
statement of these differences and distinctions may serve to elu
cidate the theory of human nature, and to show how we, are
related to the natural world, at the same time that we are sub
jects of a moral government. The object of the physical sci
ences, and of the intellect generally in its searches after truth,
is to answer the question, What is ? Ah 1 degrees of probability
or certainty attend our answers to this inquiry, and serve only
to mark how successful we have been in the undertaking. We
endeavor not only to ascertain facts, but to arrange and classify
them with a view to their mutual relations ; and the use of gen
eral terms enables us to make comprehensive statements of the
25*
294 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE.
results of our study, and to store them up in a form convenient
for future reference. Such statements are often called laws,
and are said to govern all the cases which are merely included
under them. From the idea of government, we pass naturally
to that of influence and production, or causation ; and the law,
or general statement, is then saicj, to cause all the particular facts
which it comprehends. Unable to find the true cause, we as
sign a fictitious one, which is at first recognized by the under
standing to be fictitious, but which comes at last to claim as its
own the character which it had only borrowed.
The object of ethical science, and of the moral faculty gen
erally, is quite distinct from this ; here we ask, What ought to
be? our aim being, not so much to satisfy our curiosity, as to
regulate our conduct. We seek to ascertain "the rules which
ought to govern voluntary action, and to which those habitual
dispositions of mind which are the source of voluntary actions
ought to be adapted." The conception of duty, and of absolute
right, which then comes before the mind, corresponds to noth
ing physical, and has no archetype in the external universe.
We enter a new world here ; we may ask for the cause of a
fact, an event ; but it is irrelevant and absurd to inquire after
the cause of an obligation. Duty is not caused., for it never be
gan to be ; it has existed from eternity. We cannot even con
ceive of a period when justice was not, or will not be, obligatory
upon every being capable of understanding what justice re
quires. Upon the idea or feeling expressed by the word ought
the whole science of morals depends. It differs not in degree,
bu^ in kind, from desire and appetite, so that these can never
really come in competition with it. In truth, it does not admit
of degrees, for there are no half-way obligations ; conscience
either speaks absolutely, or not at all. I am obliged either to
cultivate a certain disposition of mind, or to repress it, if it be
not indifferent, in a moral point of view, whether it be cultivated
or not The desires, on the other hand, exist in all conceivable
degrees, from the faintest shade of inclination up to the strong
passion which takes the reason prisoner.
Source of uncertainty or skepticism in morals. It is only
THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 295
when the dictates of conscience are drawn out into the form of
propositions, and stated as general laws, that any question can
arise as to their certainty. Even then, the question would not
be hard to answer. The intellect, we know, must begin with
propositions which it cannot prove, because nothing more evi
dent or certain can be found on which to rest the argument.
That which is self-evident is not, surely, to be deemed inferior
to that which requires to be supported by other evidence, before
we can receive and act upon it. He who can seriously distrust
the evidence of his senses, or doubt his own identity, or deny
that every event must have a cause, must be permitted, also, to
exercise his skepticism as to the grounds of morality, and to
maintain that he sees no reason why we should sometimes be
obliged to sacrifice ourselves for others, or to submit our com
passionate or benevolent impulses to the sense of duty and jus
tice. It would avail nothing, if we were to hold up general
expediency, or the command of God, as such a reason. He*
who cannot recognize the independent nature and entire su
premacy of moral obligation, as such, will never yield to con
siderations like these, which have in fact no weight, unless a
sense of duty be taken for granted. We cannot argue with those
who will not first admit the principles upon which all reasoning
is founded.
But, fortunately for the. world, skepticism in morals can never
be any thing more than a diversion or a whim. The matter is
exclusively a practical one. We are not concerned here about
the truth of propositions, and therefore cannot be perplexed by
the artifices of the logician and the sophist. Whether we know
the meaning of words or not, we cannot but be conscious that
we are urged to do and to refrain from doing certain things by
a principle which is not coincident with self-love, but often runs
counter to it, and assumes to moderate and restrain it with ab
solute authority. Call this principle what we may, its existence
is a fact attested by consciousness ; and whether we submit to
its guidance or not, we cannot but be conscious that it puts forth
a higher claim to our obedience than all other motives and
296 THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT.
springs of action united. No one had a clearer perception of
this fact, or avowed it more frankly, than Hume himself.
" Those," says he, " who have denied the reality of moral
distinctions may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants ;
nor is it conceivable, that any human creature could ever seri
ously believe that all characters and actions were alike entitled
to the regard and affection of every one.
" Let a man s insensibility be ever so great, he must often be
touched with the images of right and wrong ; and let his preju
dices be ever so obstinate, he must observe that others are sus
ceptible of like impressions. The only way, therefore, of con
vincing an antagonist of this kind, is to leave him to himself.
For, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it
is probable he will at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come
over to the side of common sense and reason."
CHAPTER IV
THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT.
Summary of the last chapter. The object of the last chapter
was to explain the nature and operations of that faculty, by the
possession of which, even more than by the gift of reason, man
is raised above all the other orders of created being with which
we are acquainted. Conscience, I endeavored to show, is the
inlet of a new set of ideas, which differ as widely from those
which are furnished by the intellect, as the perceptions of vision
do from those of touch and hearing. The object of the intel
lect is truth ; that of conscience is duty. The former teaches
us what is ; the latter shows us what ought to be. The moral
THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT. 297
faculty is universal ; for the most depraved and wicked person
that ever lived, is not ignorant of what the words ought and
duty mean, though he may not heed them in his conduct. The
uninstructed or perverted understanding may apply them
wrongfully ; but, however applied, their obligatory or binding
character is always recognized. The idea of duty or moral ob
ligation is simple or uncompounded ; it does not admit of defini
tion, because it is not susceptible of analysis, or of division into
parts. Hence, it is not communicable by instruction ; if it did
not already exist in the infant mind, all the teaching in the
world could never place it there, any more than mere words
could inform a man what the color yellow is, if he had never
seen a yellow object. In the latter case, indeed, the senses give
us the necessary information ; having once seen the unclouded
sky, or the distant hills, or the deep ocean, I can afterwards
form a conception of them, and can then learn what the word
blue signifies, or the objects to which it is applicable. Not so
in the moral world ; sense renders no aid here. The primary
application of the words right and wrong is not to visible or
tangible things, or even to any outward act, but to the secret
purposes of the heart ; for however strange or mischievous the
deed may appear, as soon as we ascertain that it was uninten
tional, or that it proceeded from the best motives, we immedi
ately relieve the doer from any moral blame. Just as the un
derstanding discerns resemblance or contrariety between two
ideas, does the moral faculty pronounce that truth-telling is
right, and falsehood wrong ; the only distinction between the
two cases is, that, in the former one, the mental act terminates
when the judgment is formed, truth or knowledge being the
only end in view ; while, in the latter, the conception of duty
or moral obligation immediately rises, the judgment pointing
directly to action. It is not properly a judgment, then, but
a precept or command. I not only know that falsehood is
wrong, but I feel that veracity is a duty, that I am bound, on
all occasions, to tell the truth. More properly speaking, indeed,
the conception of duty is involved in the judgment of right,
and forms a part of -it; to perceive the motive to be sinful,
298 THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT.
and to recognize the obligation to repress it, is one and the
same act.
It was remarked, further, that the paramount character of
moral obligation over all other motives or incentives to conduct,
is involved in the very idea of obligation. It is an impertinence
to ask for a foundation for the supremacy of conscience. He
who commands, indeed, assumes that he has authority ; and we
often reasonably doubt the fact, and require him to show his
commission. But in so doing, we virtually acknowledge that
there is authority somewhere, that a higher power exists, whom
we are bound to obey, and who is capable of delegating his
right to command. Now it is only by a metaphor, though an
apt and natural one, that we . speak of the commands, or the
voice, of conscience. It is the office of this faculty to create
that primitive and simple feeling of obligation which is expressed
by the word ought, and which alone gives to duty and authority
any proper meaning. There is a common confusion of thought
here. With regard to a particular act or duty, it is reasonable
to inquire if I am under a moral obligation to perform or to
cherish it ; but when this point is ascertained, to seek a reason
for that obligation, is to ask, why it is a duty to perform a duty,
which is nonsense. It is demonstrable that no answer can
be given to the question which will prevent it from being in
stantly repeated. That what is right, is of higher authority
than what is merely expedient, is evident from the simple fact,
that right and obligation are correlative terms, or merely two as
pects of the same idea ; while obligation does not enter at all
into the meaning of the word expedient.
Obligation distinguished from constraint. It is with great
diffidence that I venture to differ on this point from so eminent
an authority in ethical science as Sir James Mackintosh. But
what he has here attempted to add. to the theory of ethics as
expounded by Bishop Butler, seems to me a violation of the
simplicity and truth of the whole scheme, and, instead of fur
nishing a basis for the authoritative claims of conscience, to de
prive this faculty of that original and supreme authority which
is its most striking characteristic. There is a fundamental dif-
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 299
ference between the ideas of obligation and compulsion, which,
though often lost sight of.in the metaphorical use of language,
is essential to any proper understanding of the subject. A
subordinate officer may say, that he is obliged to obey the com
mands of his superior ; but this is constraint, not duty ; because
he knows, that if need were, a file of soldiers would enforce the
command. On the other hand, the dictates of conscience are
enforced by no power whatever. Any one may disobey them
who will. But, even in the moment of disobedience, he is con
scious that he is violating an obligation, properly so called,
which is in its very nature supreme.* We do not do right .
because God commands it, but God commands it because it is
right. The idea of moral obligation, then, I speak it rever
ently, lies behind the authority of the Almighty, and is the
only buttress of his throne. As for the other supports that
have been devised for the sense of duty, that the action is
obligatory because it is expedient, or because it is conformable
to reason, to order, or to the fitness of things, they hardly
merit notice.
Abstract arguments a priori cannot prove the moral govern
ment of God. And here I rest what I had to say upon the
moral nature of man, as preparatory to the further inquiry
* The word ought is the only one in our language which means, exclu
sively and unambiguously, to be held or bound in moral obligation, through the
consciousness of a law of paramount authority. This also is the primary
meaning of the word oblige ; but unfortunately, this word has come to have
a secondary meaning, corresponding very nearly with must, and indicating
physical necessity or compulsion ; as when we say that the commander of a
besieged fortress is obliged to surrender when his means of defence are ex
hausted, or that the captain of a ship is obliged by adverse winds to move
in a wrong direction. In all languages, words are found corresponding
with ought, and with the primary meaning of oblige ; this may not be their
sole meaning, but it is always one of their recognized significations. This
fact indicates that the sense of moral obligation, wholly distinct from per-
suasion or desire on the one hand, and from physical necessity on the other,
is a part of the universal consciousness of men ; it is always recognized,
though it is not always obeyed. As it is a simple idea, we cannot analyze
it ; and as it is an ultimate principle in human nature, we cannot explain
or account for it.
300 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
into the attributes of the Deity, and into that manifestation of
them which calls for the religious homage of the whole human
family. The question now is, Have we satisfactory assur
ance, even from the light of nature, that God does indeed govern
the earth ? and if so, by what rule does he govern it ? The
doctrine of uninterrupted Divine agency, which was considered
at length, and, as I think, established, in the former Part,
teaches us, indeed, that all events are of his disposal ; but the
doctrine was then viewed chiefly in relation to physical occur
rences, or to what are called the laws of the outward world. Is
the moral world equally under his guidance and dominion ? and
does conscience, in its purity and supremacy, only mirror to us
the light of his countenance ? Is man, also, in his intellectual
and moral nature, subject to laws as inflexible as those which
govern the planets in their courses ? and as the latter manifest
to us the wisdom and power of the Lawgiver, so do the former
evince to us his justice, benevolence, and holiness?
The answer of these questions in the affirmative, upon satis
factory grounds, you perceive, will afford evidence a posteriori
of the moral character of the Deity, and, as a necessary conse
quence, of the religious duties of man. It is customary with
writers upon this subject, I am well aware, to proceed entirely
upon abstract reasoning, and to deduce the moral attributes from
the natural ones, the whole doctrine resting upon arguments
a priori. Thus, the doctrine of the omniscience of the Divine
Being is upheld, as " a necessary inference from that of a uni
versal Creator. He who made all creatures and things that
is to say, who gave them their being and properties cannot
but know the being and properties which himself has given, and
the ways in which they will be developed and will operate."
Again, the infinite benevolence and holiness of God are deduced
immediately from a consideration of his omniscience and infinite
power and wisdom.
Now I am far from denying the validity of such reasoning as
this, and there is unquestionably a certain class of minds so
peculiarly constituted that it is more satisfactory to them , than
any other. But it seems to me to be chargeable with this great
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 301
defect, that unless it can be supported by the evidence of
facts, that is, by observation and experience, it leaves the in
quirer in a worse condition than he was before he began the
study of the subject. Of what use is it to demonstrate to him
by abstract reasoning, that the Almighty must govern in holiness
the world which he has made, when, from his knowledge of
history, from the mode in which he has been accustomed to look
upon natural occurrences and the conduct of mankind, and from
his personal experience, he is compelled to doubt whether the
world is governed at all? Perplexed by this contradiction
between reason and experience, he will be tempted to reject the
doctrine and the argument along with it, not that he can
detect any flaw in the latter, but because he is obliged to dis
trust the power of the human mind ever to arrive at any truth.
Prove to him, that an omniscient God must necessarily be in
finitely benevolent and holy, and at the same time * allow him to
believe, that the history of mankind is one long record of
wretchedness and sin, and what conclusion can he draw, except
that the doctrine of a superintending Providence is either an
inexplicable mystery or a delusion, or that reasoning which
seems to be demonstrative is, in truth, wholly treacherous and
unsound? The adoption of the latter alternative only adds
skepticism in philosophy to disbelief in religion. If we were
concerned with the truths of theology only as we are with the
principles of abstract science, then this mode of evolving them
one from the other in logical succession, as it would add to the
symmetry and elegance of the theory, and lead to no conse
quences that would be practically injurious, might well be
adopted, if for no other reason, yet as a diversion of the intel
lect.* But as matters of immediate and momentous interest,
* In the exact sciences, too much regard cannot be paid to method, to
the systematic evolution of principles in their natural order, each step
being the natural consequence of its immediate predecessor, and the
natural preparation for the one which is to follow it. Geometry and
Mechanics owe much of their beauty, as well as their intelligibleness, to
this rigid observance of method in the evolution of their principles. They
are as perfect examples of synthesis as the composition of stones that
26
302 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
it behooves us to study them in such a manner as to leave clear
and deeply rooted convictions in the soul. They relate not
merely to faith, but to practice ;. and experience is therefore our
purest guide in the investigation, and the safest teacher in con
duct. By approaching the subject in this manner, we remove
the difficulties alleged by the skeptic before laying the founda-
< onstitutes an arch. But in the moral sciences, ft may be doubted whether
i lie love of system has not been carried too far, whether the desire to round
eft one s speculations into a complete theory has not led, on the one hand,
to a suppression or imperfect statement of some important truths, and on
the other, to a needless repetition and an exaggerated estimate of some
principles which are really of secondary importance. Both in Politics
and Political Economy, tne system which professes to- be deduced in an
exact method from a single principle, is very apt to be a false system.
These sciences are based upon human nature, and therefore must be con
formed to the manifold diversities and inconsistencies of that nature. Mr.
Mill derives the whole theory of Government from the single assumed
fact, that every man pursues his interest when he knows it ; to which Sir
James Mackintosh acutely objects, that " a nation, as much as an individual,
and sometimes more, may not only mistake its interest,, but, perceiving i
clearly, may prefer the gratification of a strong passion to it.. The whale
fabric of Mill s political reasoning seems to be overthrown by this single
observation ; and instead of attempting to explain the immense variety
of political facts by the simple principle of a contest of interests, we are
reduced to the necessity of once more referring them to that variety of
passions, habits, opinions, and prejudices, which we discover nly by ex
perience."
In Political Economy, hardly can any one topic be adequately developed
and explained, without taking for granted a general knowledge of all
the other topics, or entering into a provisional explanation of them.
AVealth, Exchange, Value, Money, Cost, Profits, Wages, all are con
nected with each other like the threads of a continuous network inclosing
a sphere. It matters little where we begin ; whatever part we first take up
will be found to involve a consideration of nearly all the other parts of
the system. In such cases, we best preserve the essentials of method, by
sacrificing its outward forms. Logic must give way temporarily to rhet
oric ; that view of the subject which most readily presents itself to an in
quiring mind, ignorant as yet of the elements of the science, should be
preferred to the more comprehensive and exact development of it, which
can be understood and appreciated only by the proficient who has care
fully examined the whole ground. A picture is better than a map for
some purposes.
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 303
tions of our religious belief, and then proceed to erect the struc
ture with a firmer assurance, that " the gates of hell shall not
prevail against it."
Constraint distinguished from government. I go back,
therefore, to the question as I first propounded it : Looking
at the world only as the theatre of human experience, is there
sufficient evidence that it is constantly under the government of
its Creator, who directs the conduct, and takes an interest in
the welfare, of the beings whom he has made ? The inanimate
universe and the inferior orders of living creatures, as we have
seen, depend immediately, and in all their movements, upon the
constant care and agency of the Supreme Being. The same
power which brought them into existence, sustains and guides
them, whether in motion or at rest. Every event, every change
in their condition, from the falling of an atom up to the revolu
tions of a system of worlds, is attributable directly to the
agency of God. But this agency here is immediate and exclu
sive ; it is the direct exercise of power, not cooperating with
or modified by any power inherent in the bodies themselves,
but negativing the existence of such secondary power ; it is con
straint, not government. But man is a free agent ; in one
sense, and to a certain extent, he governs himself. Endowed
with freewill, and left to choose -Huong many motives of action,
his obedience, if rendered at all, is voluntary, not mechanical.
Is such obedience claimed of him ? Is man, also, under Divine
government, the will of his Creator being signified to him in
language that he cannot mistake, and enforced, not indeed by the
i^on law of necessity, which is incompatible with his whole
moral nature, but by such considerations as may influence the
conduct of a free and rational being ?
Butler s argument for the moral government of God. To
this question it is usual to answer, as Bishop Butler has done,
that the pleasures and pains of our mortal existence are properly
considered as rewards and punishments, the distribution of
which was intended to influence our conduct. They mark out
the course in which it was designed that we should walk, and
serve at once to indicate the will of the Ruler of the universe,
304 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
and to supply strong motives for compliance with his command.*,
" All which we enjoy, and a great part of what we suffer, is put
in our own power. For pleasure and pain are the consequences
of our actions, and we are endowed by the Author of our nature
with capacities of foreseeing these consequences It is
certain matter of universal experience, that the general method
of Divine administration is, forewarning us, or giving us capac
ities to foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so
and so, we shall have such enjoyments, and if so and so, such
sufferings ; and giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel
those sufferings, in consequence of our actions."
It is hardly necessary to adduce examples to illustrate this
mode of government, as every human being has daily experience
of its operation. Imprudence, negligence, or feebleness in the
management of our ordinary concerns, is sure to be followed by
mischievous consequences, which form its appropriate punish
ment. If I transgress the known laws of physiology, I am sure
to suffer for it by bodily weakness or disease ; and if the trans
gression becomes extreme, sickness ends in death. The health
of the mind is equally cared for ; we are admonished, in very
significant language, that mental cultivation, exertion, and re
pose are appointed to us, each in its season and proper degree,
and the evils of neglect, delay, or excess, are the sharp penal
ties that enforce the law. As yet, I intentionally pass over all
instances relating to the breach of moral laws ; these will be
considered hereafter, in a different connection.
It is no objection to this view of the matter to say, that these
assumed penalties are but the inevitable results of the natural
constitution of things, the necessary effects of known physical
causes. The constitution of things is the appointment of the
Creator, and what is called physical causation is the constant
working of Divine power. When we speak of the laws of
nature as invariable, and of the consequences of a failure to
comply with them as inevitable, we only mark our sense of the
constancy and stability of his administration.* The govern-
" But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of nature. True.
This is the very thing which I am observing. It is to be ascribed to tte
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 305
merit under which we live never fluctuates, wavers, or sleeps;
its care extends to the regulation even of our minutest concerns,
and the offence against it which is committed in secret bears its
penalty as surely as that which was flagrant and avowed in the
face of day.
Obedience required irrespective of consequences. But I go
much further. From the analysis of our moral nature, which
has just occupied our attention, it appears that obedience to law
is demanded of us for its own sake, irrespective of the conse
quences that will follow transgression. Prior to all experience,
in the mind of every human being, arises spontaneously the
idea or sense of obligation, of duty as such, of submission to
authority which is recognized as supreme, and obeyed without
compulsion or reference to the consequences of disobedience
upon our personal welfare. This idea is the one that lies at
the root of all government, and without which, in fact, no gov
ernment is possible, .except that of despotism supported by irre
sistible power. Authority can have no other title but that of
migh^ or of right. In the former case, obedience, being compul
sory, is, properly speaking, no obedience at all. It is but a me
chanical yielding to superior force. An offender who is actu-
general course of nature : i. e. not surely to the words or ideas, course of
nature; but to him who appointed it, and put things into it; or to a course
of operation, from its uniformity or constancy, called natural ; and which
necessarily implies an operating agent. For when men find themselves
necessitated to confess an Author of Nature, or that God is the natural gov
ernor of the world, they must not deny this again, because his government
is uniform; they must not deny that he does things at all, because he does
them constantly ; because the effects of his acting are permanent, whether
his acting be so or not ; though there is no reason to think it is not. In
short, every man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon the fore
thought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining good : and if the
natural course of things be the appointment of God, and our natural facul
ties of knowledge and experience are given us by him, then the good and
bad consequences which follow our actions, are his appointment, and our
foresight of those consequences is a warning given us by him, how we are
to act." Butler s Analogy, Part I. Chap 2.
26*
306 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
ally in the grasp of the officers of the law, and is dragged away
by them to punishment, may be said to obey their motions ; but
in no other sense than as a ship is said to obey the impulse of
the winds. There is no will, no proper volition, in the case ;
and therefore no proper submission or obedience. Even if vio
lence is not actually applied, but only threatened, there being a
moral certainty that the threat will be executed, the individual
may be said to yield, but he does not properly obey, or recog
nize the authority which thus constrains him against his will.
He is still, either in expectation or reality, moved by brute
force, not governed.
A mere system of rewards and punishments is not government.
Perhaps it will not be deemed refining too far, if I add, that
a mere system for influencing the conduct of others through re
wards and penalties, without reference to an assumed legitimate
authority, or right to command, is not government, but persua
sion. Thus, I may determine the conduct of my neighbor by
making sufficiently liberal appeals to his Merest ; I may induce
him to give up to me his house and land, or even to sell his
services. Still, he is not governed ; there being no assumption of
authority, no claim of right, on either side. He only go rerns
whose commands are obeyed from a sense of moral obligation ;
and the fruits of disobedience are properly considered as pun
ishment, only after it is admitted that the disobedience is a moral
wrong. Hence, no one is justified in violating the law simply
because he is willing to suffer the penalty attached to that in
fraction, nor does the suffering expiate the guilt which he has
incurred. Penalties are means of enforcing obedience which
are but one degree less violent than the direct application of
superior strength.
I do not say that a system of rewards and punishments is so
inconsistent with the nature of moral government that the two
cannot exist together, or that the one cannot be a supplement
of the other, operating to make it more universal and effective.
On the contrary, I shall attempt to show hereafter, that such a
eystem, very complete and admirable in its arrangements, is an
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 307
actual adjunct of the Divine government, which, without it,
would be quite too limited in its effects upon human conduct.
But my present point is, that the government itself, or the pro
nunciation of a law and the recognition of its authority and
binding power, is perfectly distinct from the means and appli
ances by which it is made effective, and men are brought under its
control ; the promulgation of a law is one thing, and the appa
ratus for its enforcement i* another. We can conceive of a
community so virtuous, that rewards and penalties should not
be needed or known among them, but obedience should be
spontaneous and universal ; their state, then, would not be tho
absence of government, but its perfection. With less compli
ant dispositions, some means of enforcing the law are needed,
till obedience becomes a habit, and the yoke, as in the former
case, is easily borne. Thus, in the scheme of Divine Provi
dence, rewards and punishments are our schoolmasters ; by them
we are educated into obedience, and become willing subjects of
the reign of God upon the earth.
" Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round !
Parents first season us ; then schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers,
Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,
Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,
The sound of glory ringing in our ears ;
Without our shame, within our consciences ;
Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears.
Yet all these forces., and their whole array,
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away/
How obedience, at first selfishly rendered, becomes pure.
That beautiful law of our mental constitution, which accounts
for the formation of what are called " secondary desires," affords
a means for the purification of the motive, and for a passage
from the selfish to the disinterested stage of moral progress.
308 THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT.
The process is a simple one, being merely a transference of the
affections from the end to the means. By the association of ideas,
that which was at first loved or practised only as an instrument,
becomes the leading idea and the chief object of pursuit. Thus,
in the downward course, money, at first desired only as a means
of gratifying the appetites, or of answering some higher ends,
becomes itself "an appetite and a passion," and the vicious
habit of avarice is formed. And so, in our upward progress,
the honesty which was first practised only because it was the
best policy, the \vorship of God which was first paid only as
the price of heaven, become at last the unbought and unselfish
homage of the soul to uprightness^ holiness, and truth. Virtue
deserves its name only when, by long practice, it has become a
fixed habit ; for then only is it freed from the stain of selfish
ness. The terrors of the law are proclaimed to the sinner only
that he may be able -to overcome the first shock of the transi
tion from sin to holiness ; its promises are reserved for those
only who, by patient continuance in well-doing, have become
alike indifferent to the debasing fear and the debasing hope.
Conscience proves the moral government of God. But to je-
turn to the leading branch of our subject ; I do not see that
there is any possibility of regarding the most prominent fact in
the moral constitution of man in any other light, than as a
direct proof of the government which the Deity exercises over
him, and of the constant submission and obedience which are
required of him, even at the expense, if necessary, of his tem
poral interests. His consciousness informs him, that the author
ity thus exercised is absolute, or supreme ; all considerations of
interest, all earthly authority, must give way to it. At the
same time, this subject of the Divine government remains a free
agent ; he may, he often does, act in opposition to the law within
the heart, and braves the consequences of the violation. What
those consequences are, or how the moral law is upheld by cor
responding arrangements in the physical universe, or the gen
eral constitution of things, I do not now consider ; nor is it nec
essary for our present purpose to ask what the commands are
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 309
which are promulgated under this awful authority. It is
enough at present to show, that a claim to supreme authority, for
commands of whatever nature, is actually set up and universally
recognized; for this is sufficient proof that the affairs of the
moral universe are under the constant direction and government
of its Creator. The Epicurean theory, that God exists, but
does not govern, is not a whit less improbable and absurd than
the hypothesis of the atheist.
Objection refuted. To this argument it may be objected,
that, according to the view already taken of the theory of ethics,
the obligation of the moral law does not in anywise depend upon
the will of the Deity, but exists anterior to all command, and
forms, in truth, the only ground upon which we can impute
holiness to him, or justice to his dealings with men. Certainly,
this law does not appear to us as arbitrary, or dependent upon
mere will ; if it did, we could not recognize its absolute and in
herent obligation. But it may properly be regarded as his law
through whose agency alone it is made known to us ; he who pro
mulgates and sanctions a law, may be regarded as the author of
it by those whom he addresses. He has so constituted our
minds, that we cannot escape a knowledge of the law, and fre
quent monitions of its paramount claims to obedience. The
endowment of conscience is as plain an indication of his will in
this respect, as the curious structure of the eye is of his inten
tion that we should see. Compliance with the law of con
science, then, is obedience to God.
Argument from design founded on our intellectual and moral
nature. The extraordinary number, obviousness, and beauty
of those illustrations of the argument from design, which are
drawn from the physical universe, arrest and detain the atten
tion with so strong a grasp, that it is difficult to give due prom
inence and effect to the other branch of the same argument,
which rests upon the intellectual and moral nature of man. If
we were not accustomed to dwell so exclusively upon the for
mer, attracted by the copious and interesting details which it
brings to our notice, I think every one would acknowledge, that
310 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
the latter was really even more direct, logical, and convincing.
The marks of contrivance in the arrangements of matter which
fill earth, sea, and skies, the effects that are constantly repro
duced, all working together harmoniously, often by long and
complex processes, for the production of specific and useful
results, compel us to believe, not only that God exists, but that
he is constantly present in his material creation, sustaining, vivi
fying, acting with ceaseless energy ; the objects themselves, and
all the changes and movements, which take place in them, afford
ing equally striking proofs of his immediate agency and uni
versal Providence. But minds which are compelled to admit
this conclusion without hesitancy, are so much perplexed by the
history of man upon the earth, by the long and gloomy record
of human folly, ignorance, passion, wilfulness, suffering, and sin,
that they are half disposed to make our race the only excep
tions to the universality of Divine care and forethought, and
to believe that man alone is left to himself in this world, free
to work out his own inventions, and to endure their conse
quences. A belief in the absolute freedom of the human will
seems, at first sight, almost necessarily to lead to this doctrine.
How can man, they ask, be both free and governed, self-directed
and subject to another s will and power, at the some moment
a sovereign, and an automaton or a slave? And the result,
the effects that are actually produced, appear to corroborate this
opinion, to which we have been led by the antecedent view of
the case. If man be governed at all by Supreme Power, his
history seems to prove that he is very ill-governed. To recur
to a former illustration, the economy of a hive of bees puts to
shame the most orderly society that the wit of man ever framed
and maintained. No wonder that the doctrine of the original
and total depravity of the human race has obtained so ready an
acceptance with most theologians, even on grounds apart from
Scripture. The history of the civilized portion of the race, to
say nothing of the earlier ages of the world, or of the great
majority of its present inhabitants still sunk in barbarism and
all the evils of savage life, seem to sustain and also to demon
strate it.
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 311
Beauty of the contrivance by which this problem is solved.
I admit the difficulty to its full extent, and have endeavored to
make the statement of it as full and forcible as possible, so as
to give no room for the imputation of evading the real knot and
perplexity in the argument. But it is on account of the great
ness of the difficulty, because we see that human reason alone,
unaided by conscience, could not reconcile the contradiction
which is here presented to it, that we are so much struck by
the display of infinite wisdom which has solved the problem so
completely, that not a shadow remains from it upon the faith of
the believer. To reconcile absolute government with perfect
freewill on the part of the governed, and to account for the
existence of moral and physical evil without imputing either
carelessness or malevolence to the ruler, is the problem to be
solved. The instinct of brutes, which is a power acting above
their individual nature and the sphere of their consciousness,
shows us how man might be guided to the highest and noblest
ends, so that all the lower purposes of his being should be
answered, and his happiness provided for in full measure, with
out any moral endowment whatever, and of course, without any
responsibility on his part, or any possibility of sin. But merit
and demerit would then be words without meaning, as compul
sory virtue is a contradiction in terms. Man, then, must be
self-guided, but must still act under the consciousness of a law
which he acknowledges to be supreme, and to which he owes
implicit obedience. The point is, that he should be able to
recognize the supremacy of this law, and still be free to obey it
or not. Admitting his freedom, and the full force of the instinc
tive passions and appetites by which he is swayed or impelled,
how can he remain a subject of the Divine government ?
Solution of the problem. Suppose, then, that a voice from
heaven should proclaim to him distinctly, at every hour and
minute of the day, the will of an infinitely superior being as to
the regulation of his conduct, the voice being accompanied by
such manifest and imposing tokens of the majesty and omnipo
tence of the source whence it came, that even the natural senti
ment of awe, not supported by any direct reference to conse-
iJ12 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
quences, would incline him to submit implicitly to the command.
Suppose that the purport of the order thus supernaturally com
municated to him was to restrict his natural impulses and de
sires, and to set before him a rule of conduct more perfect even
than a chastised and rational regard for his own happiness, so
that a self-guided will should submit to the sacrifice of self.
Still it might be said, that his awe-struck faculties were terrified
into submission, so that in truth, compliance was no longer free.
And so, if man were endowed only with appetite and intellect^
must every other attempt fail to get rid of the difficulty in ques
tion, and to remove what seems, in the eye of reason alone, the
absolute inconsistency between the ideas of subjection and free
dom.
Now change the supposition a little, but enough to conform it
to the real state of the case. Imagine, that, instead of a voice
from heaven thus constantly proclaiming to us the will of the
Supreme Being, enforced by all the outward terrors of the law
given from Sinai, the injunction should constantly be repeated
within the mind itself, in a manner far more impressive than if
it were accompanied by the thunder and the earthquake from
without. Imagine that the order thus made known is attended
by a conception that of duty which the intellect alone
could never frame, and which alone can reconcile the idea of
law with that of liberty, of absolute obligation with perfect free
dom. Yet this imagining is but a plain statement of the func
tions of conscience, of the miracle, so to speak, which is con
stantly wrought within us, in order that we may perceive that
our moral freedom is compatible with our subjection to the Di
vine government. Remember how numerous are the occasions
on which this idea rises, and the variety of applications of which
it is susceptible. It colors nearly every action of our lives, and
modifies every judgment that we can form of the conduct of our
fellow-beings. By introducing the idea of a law of paramount
obligation, and, at the same time, removing all s*how of compul
sion or, even of terror, and speaking without reference either to
rewards or punishments, it first makes the conception of virtue
possible. Far from negativing the freedom of the will, it pre-
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 313
supposes freedom, it is not compatible with any condition but
that of freedom, and therefore we cannot even conceive of its
application to brutes.
Moral good implies the possibility of moral evil. All virtue
is conformity to the rule thus made known to us, and all vice is
departure from it. It is demonstrable, then, that moral good
flows from the same fountain as moral evil, and that the one
cannot exist without the possibility of the other. "Why is it that
we are so painfully affected, on reviewing the history of man
kind, or examining into their present condition ? It is because
the requisitions of conscience are so high and pure, and in judg
ing of the conduct of others, at least, it is so natural to apply
them, that we almost involuntarily dwell upon the examples of
transgression, upon the amount of sin and consequent woe which
is in the world, and which operates to divert our attention from
the moral good of which these evils are the necessary price, and
by which they are accompanied and redeemed. It is only to
this one-sided view that the prospect seems dark, and God s
scheme of government of the human family appears one of
doubtful wisdom or benevolence. Why not dwell rather upon
the virtues that are practised, the amount of good that is ac
tually done, and then admire the perfection of the scheme which
renders such excellence attainable by man ? It is true that
moral excellence is not usually so prominent, or so likely to arrest
the attention of the observer, as moral delinquency ; for great
crimes usually announce themselves with startling effect, and
are attended by a long train ef disastrous consequences, which
extend and deepen the impression; while the virtues love the
shade, and the good which flows from the observance of them is
a noiseless stream. But if we judge men by their intentions
rather than their outward conduct, and this is obviously the
only correct judgment, -I am inclined to believe that the law
of conscience is far more frequently obeyed than violated. The
w r orst man that ever lived is still conscious at times of noble and
virtuous impulses, and in his own view of the matter, at any
rate, if not in that of his neighbors, his conduct often conforms
to them. A conscious transgression of the most obvious prin-
27
314 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
ciples of rectitude is too unnatural and too painful an act to be
wantonly or frequently repeated. Certainly, a whole life of
crime, of gratuitous violence and wrong, relieved by no com
punctions, and unvaried by any act of mercy, truthfulness, or
justice, is so monstrous a conception, that no one ever expects
to see it realized.
Why evil appears prominent in history. " How small," says
Stewart, " is the number of individuals who draw the atten
tion of the world by their crimes, when compared with the mill
ions who pass their days in inoffensive obscurity ! Of this it is
scarcely necessary to produce any other proof, than the fact
which is commonly urged on the other side of the argument,
the catalogue of crimes and calamities which sully the history
of past ages. For whence is the interest we take in historical
reading, but from the singularity of the events it records, and
from the contrast which its glaring colors present to the uni
formity and repose of private life ? Even in those unhappy
periods which have furnished the most ample materials to the
historian, the storm has spent its rage in general on a com
paratively small number of men, placed in the more conspicuous
stations of society by their birth, bj their talents, by their am
bition, or by an heroical sense of duty ; while the unobserved
multitude saw it pass over their head, or only heard its noise at
a distance. Nor must we pronounce all those to have been un
happy who are commonly styled the unfortunate. The mind
suits itself to the part it is destined to act, and, when great
and worthy objects are before it, exults in those moments of
hazard and alarm, which, even while they threaten life and
freedom, leave us in the possession of every thing that con
stitutes the glory and the perfection of our nature."
It is the sensitiveness of our moral constitution, alive to the
slightest appearance of wrong, and painfully affected by any
manifestation of it on a large scale, which leads us, on a specu
lative view of the subject, to exaggerate the amount of moral
evil in the world. Far from being a defect, this sensitiveness
should be accounted an excellence in our moral being, as it
shows how strong is our appreciation of the authority of con-
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 315
science, how wide a field in our view is covered by its com
mands, and how quick is our perception of any case in which
these commands are violated. Thus, as Butler finely remarks,
the judgments which men form of each other tend to carry out
the purposes of the Almighty, by constituting a part of the pun
ishment which he has appointed for every transgression. They
enter into the scheme of Divine government, which, even as
manifested in the history of our race, is far more direct, com
prehensive, and searching than most persons imagine. A little
reflection will convince them, that they have greatly underrated
the number and minuteness of the occasions in which the moral
faculty is called into exercise, and really determines the conduct
even of the worst of men.
The incessant and universal activity of conscience. The
institution of property, for instance, is founded entirely on our
sense of justice, which is correctly defined to be " the constant
intention to give to every man that which is rightfully his own."
He who voluntarily deprives himself of any thing which seems
to him at all valuable or desirable, for the mere purpose of
restoring it to another who has a better claim to it, or who even
abstains from the attempt to seize and appropriate it when it is
in the possession of its rightful owner, is so far actuated by
the feeling of justice, or is obedient to that injunction of the
Almighty which is manifested through the conscience. Now, no
nation has ever been discovered on the earth, so low and brutal
in their inclinations and habits, so destitpte of any idea of
right, that the institution of property, to a greater or less extent,
does not exist among them. The right of the savage to the
tools and weapons which his own hand has fashioned, and to
the game which he has caught, is universally respected by his
fellows ; or if this original title is ever violated, it is from some
rude notion of government, or authority in the head of the
tribe, or punishment inflicted for some offence, at the bottom of
which notion, also, lies the feeling of right, as distinct as in the
case of original ownership. That the property continues in the
possession of the owner, is owing only to a constant exercise of
self-denial on the part of those who have it not and still desire
316 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
it ; thus showing that the sense of rectitude is, to this extent at
least, a permanent and effective rule of conduct. The familiar
proverb, that there is honesty even among thieves, at any rate in
their treatment of their fellows, proves that this remark holds
true even of those who are commonly supposed to live in open
defiance of every law, both human and Divine. Now a single
instance of robbery on a great scale, by the general indignation
that it creates, occupies a larger space in the minds and mem
ories of men, than all this continuous observance of the rule.
If any doubt remains as to the entire dependence of this
institution on our primitive and habitual regard for law, it will
be removed by a glance at the brute creation. The lower ani
mals have not even an instinct which leads to restitution ; the
power of the strongest is, with them, the only law. The hungry
mastiff wrests the bone from his feebler companion, and blind
appetite or fear alone guides the more ferocious beasts in the
appropriation of their food. The mother-bird, indeed, stints its
own appetite for the benefit of its young ; but this is only from
the strong impulse of natural affection, which is as blind and
unreasoning in the brute as in the human heart. The constant
respect for property, then, proves the universality and ceaseless
operation of the moral nature of man.
Distinction between absolute and relative right. It is obvious
that this argument for the constancy and immediateness of the
moral government of God applies with the greater force, in
proportion to the culture which our moral perceptions have
received. I have already hinted, that bad men are not so bad
as they seem ; and one reason why they are not, is, that they
look at their own conduct from a different point of view from
that which is taken by the bystanders. A good deal of the
disorder and injustice which we see, does not demonstrate any
ill intention on the part of its authors ; nay, it often proceeds
from an uncultivated or misdirected sense of duty, and is so far
meritorious. We must distinguish carefully between absolute
and relative right. " An action is said to be absolutely right,"
says Dugald Stewart, " when it is in every respect suitable to
the circumstances in which the agent is placed ; or, in other
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 317
words, when it is such as, with perfectly good intentions, un
der the guidance of an enlightened and well-informed under
standing, he would have performed. An action is said to be
relatively right, when the intentions of the agent are sincerely
good, whether his conduct be suitable to his circumstances or
not. According to these definitions, it is evident, that an action
may be right in one sense, and wrong in another ; and it is no.
less evident, that it is the relative rectitude alone of an action,
which determines the moral desert of the agent in the sight of
God and of his own conscience."
Conscience gives us the conception of duty, or feeling of ob
ligation, but does not apply, this feeling to outward conduct. Its
sphere of action is wholly internal, motives and intentions being
its only subjects ; what course of conduct will best carry out
these intentions, is a question, not for the moral faculty, but for
the intellect, to answer ; and the uninformed or perverted un
derstanding may answer it very ill. Thus, conscience approves
and enjoins justice, benevolence, veracity, which is a form of
justice, and patriotism, which is a department of benevolence ;
it even pronounces upon the relative claims of these virtues to
observance, though not so distinctly, affirming that justice is of
higher obligation than benevolence. But what conduct, what
outward acts, will be truly just, or truly benevolent, or whether a
patriotic intention will justify cunning words or harsh deeds, are
doubts of which it furnishes no solution. Reason must here be
our guide. The train of consequences, some of them very re
mote, which every action carries with it, must be foreseen and
estimated, a work for the understanding, before these ques
tions can be answered. Our moral sense, which is infallible in
its sphere, only declares that an action is just to him who intends
it for justice ; and to him who thinks a certain deed is benevo
lent, to him it shall be accounted for benevolence. Apply these
principles to history, and to our common observation of man
kind, and much of what we are accustomed to consider as evi
dence of the depravity and wickedness of the human race dis
appears altogether ; nay, if fully considered, it affords proof of .
27*
318 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
the existence of high virtues among men, for the action, in the
case considered, becomes not only innocent, but meritorious.
This distinction illustrated. Take war, for instance. To
one who reads history in a proper spirit, there is probably
nothing so painful as the almost continuous record which it af
fords of the bloodshed, misery, and corruption caused by this
brutal and detestable practice. War is, indeed, " the garment
of vengeance with which the Deity arrays himself, when he
comes forth to punish the inhabitants of the earth." Looking
at it from a distance, in the light of a calm philosophy, no less
than of a pure morality, we are tempted to believe that it must
be waged by demons rather than by men, and that its mo
tives are as bad as its consequences are afflicting. The lan
guage of Robert Hall seems hardly exaggerated, when he says,
that " the plague of a widely extended war possesses, in fact, a
sort of omnipresence, by which it makes itself everywhere felt ;
for while it gives up myriads to slaughter in one part of the
globe, it is busily employed in scattering over countries exempt
from its immediate desolations the seeds of famine, pestilence,
and death While the philanthropist is devising means
to mitigate the evils and augment the happiness of the world, a
fellow-worker together with God, in exploring and giving effect
to the benevolent tendencies of nature, the warrior is revolving,
in the gloomy recesses of his capacious mind, plans of future
devastation and ruin. Prisons crowded with captives, cities
emptied of their inhabitants, fields desolate and waste, are among
his proudest trophies. The fabric of his fame is cemented with
tears and blood ; and if his name is wafted to the ends of the
earth, it is in the shrill cry of suffering humanity, in the curses
and imprecations of those whom his sword has reduced to de
spair."
The picture is indeed a terrible one, though but few will think
it is overdrawn. Yet the truth, I suppose, unquestionably is,
that almost every person concerned in war, whether an originator
of the strife or an actor in it, is either actuated, or, what amounts
to the same thing in tlie light in which we are now viewing the
matter, believes himself to be actuated, by the highest and holiest
THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 319
motives. . The statesman thinks that the welfare and honor of
his country are at stake, and that it is his stern duty to stifle his
feelings of compassion for the multitude, and to punish aggres
sion, arrogance, and injustice, even at the expense of a long and
bloody conflict. The military chieftain feels that the safety and
honor of his troops depend upon his courage and conduct, and
that he acts under an awful responsibility to the rightful gov
ernment of his country, which has confided this awful mission to
his hands ; it may be, that he goes to a hopeless contest, and
then the feelings which support the martyr at the stake are
hardly superior to his. Hence the strange contradiction, as it
seems, of which history affords more than one instance, that a
commander, on the morning after he had achieved a great vic
tory, should be found weeping like a child over the spectacle
that the field afforded of suffering and death which his own
hand had caused. Lord Collingwood was one of the most high-
minded, pure, affectionate, and strictly moral men of whom the
British peerage can boast ; yet this man commanded the ship
which fired the first English gun in the sanguinary naval con
flict of Trafalgar. The common soldier is ignorant and brutal,
most likely ; but he, too, in the moment of action, has learned
to suppress all other feelings at the mandate of duty, the
duty on which every thing then depends, that of implicit sub
mission to his superiors. It would be a strange paradox to
say, that a camp is a nursery of lofty and stern virtues ; yet it
certainly does foster a chivalrous exaltation of feeling, which
reason, indeed, condemns, as an impure mixture of false senti
ment with an austere regard for duty, but which has so much
of the moral element in it, that it cannot be harshly reprobated.
I am not palliating the evils of war ; God forbid that I should
say one word, to make any human being look upon the practice
of it with less horror and detestation than he now feels ! I am
only suggesting some reasons why it should not make us think so
badly of our fellow beings, as to doubt whether they are under
the moral government of God. If the distinctions here sug
gested do not tend at all to abate the severity of our condemna
tion of immoral practices, but only to render our feelings more
320 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT.
charitable and just towards those who are engaged in them,
they may well be kept in mind even by the professed philan
thropists. The spirit of our religion certainly requires us to
hate sin, but holds up the sinner to us as an object of compas
sion, kindness, and love.
Conclusions respecting the moral government of God. I have
not intended in this chapter even to approach the great problem
of the origin of evil ; that remains for subsequent consideration.
I have only wished to show, that, in the moral constitution of
man, there is the plainest proof, not only that we live under the
immediate government of God, but that this government is
effectual, the results produced being commensurate with the
means employed. Not only is the will of God made known to
us, at every moment of our lives, as the absolute rule of our
conduct, the supreme law ; but the announcement of this law is
made compatible with human freedom, and the law itself is
practically recognized and observed, to a greater or less extent,
by every human being. Human government, the direction and
control of organized societies of men, rest upon this Divine gov
ernment, and would not be practicable without it. Property, as
we have seen, is supported in the same manner. The law of
God, promulgated through the conscience, and acknowledged
both by the savage and by civilized man as supreme, exerts an
influence that no man can measure over the life of every indi
vidual ; it forms the basis of those institutions which are essen
tial to the very existence of society ; it sways the councils of
nations ; it governs the course of human affairs.
And the means by which these great ends are accomplished
especially the manner in which we are perpetually reminded
of the Divine command, as if by a voice from heaven, and the
mode of reconciling liberty with law are as beautiful instances
of contrivance, they furnish quite as striking indications of
Divine wisdom and goodness, as any which the material uni
verse affords.
. w . ij
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 321
CHAPTER V.
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW A REVELATION OF THE
CHARACTER OF THE DEITY : THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE
MORAL LAW.
Summary of the last chapter. I attempted to prove, in the
last chapter, that the moral constitution of man affords direct
and irrefragable evidence, that he is under the constant and im
mediate government of God. That the pleasures and pains
which we experience in this life, and which proceed from regu
lar and determinable causes, and therefore may be foreseen by
us, may properly be regarded as rewards and punishments, indi
cating to us the will of the Deity that we should perform cer
tain actions and abstain from others, is another argument tend
ing to the same conclusion ; but it does^not seem to me so
complete and satisfactory as the former one. Conscience an
nounces to us a law of absolute authority for the guidance of
our hearts and lives ; its monitions are frequent, if not inces
sant, and the obligation which ,it imposes is recognized, whether
we will or no, to be supreme. At the same time, it does not
compel or force obedience, so that the liberty of the will is not
infringed, but government is made compatible with freedom.
This idea of pure and absolute obligation, or the sense of duty
as such, as distinguished from compulsion on the one hand, and
from a perfectly unregulated and ungoverned will on the other,
is one which the intellect alone could never frame, and it does
away with the apparent contradiction between liberty and law.
Here, I observed, is contrivance, the indication of purpose, in
the moral nature of man, just as visible as in the curious phys
ical apparatus by which we see, and just as clearly indicative
of the intention of the Creator. The law thus revealed to us is
His law who reveals it. If the fashioning of our bodies
322 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW.
these wonderful but perishable tenements of clay that we inhabit
for a season shows the wisdom and the purposes of Him who
made them, how much more does the framework of our intel
lectual and, moral being testify to the same effect! This is
equally His contrivance, His work. It is not more evident that
the ear was made to hear with, or the organs of voice to speak,
or the lungs to breathe, than that the law proclaimed by conscience
should be obeyed as His will ; otherwise, the moral faculty is
constituted in vain, and exists for no conceivable purpose.
This scheme of government, I remarked, is both comprehen
sive and minute ; it assumes to regulate every purpose of the
heart, and to mould the whole life and character. And it is
effectual ; the purpose which is indicated by this endowment of
the mind with the power of distinguishing right from wrong, is
carried out and realized to the fullest extent that is consistent
with individual liberty. The conduct even of the vicious and
the profligate, of the savage as well as the civilized man, is
daily and hourly influenced by the law written on the heart.
Society itself cou^l not exist without it, as its most important
institutions, government and property, recognize it, and are, in
fact, supported by it. Through the sensitiveness of our moral
nature, I endeavored to show, we are prone to exaggerate the
moral disorder and depravity which are in the world and are
revealed in history. If we judge men by their intentions, in
stead of their outward conduct, and it is the former alone
which the plan of Divine government assumes directly to regu
late, much of their seeming lawlessness and wickedness dis
appears. Even war, that great scourge of the human family,
is carried on, by most of those who are engaged in it, with a
high moral purpose, misdirected, it is true, but pure. I am
well aware that this explanation leaves the ignorance of men,
and the blinding power of their passions, as evils still to be
accounted for; these remain for subsequent discussion. At
present, I am only concerned to show, that there is a Divine
government, not that it is a perfect government.
The contents of the moral law. So we have not considered
as yet, except incidentally, the purport or contents of the law
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 323
which is revealed in the conscience ; the mere existence of such
a law, and its claim of absolute supremacy, with the fact that it
is recognized and acted upon, being the only points upon which
stress has been laid. We have now to consider what the law
enjoins. The very brief answer may be given, that it requires
of us a pure heart and a virtuous life ; all that is comprehended
under these phrases being entitled to the name of purity or
virtue, only because it is required by conscience. Disinterest
edness is included ; for the most obvious characteristic of the
voice of conscience is, that it is to be obeyed at all hazards.
The obligation is perfect ; no matter by what sacrifice, I must
render to another that which is his own, and my word must be
kept. And as no fear or hope with regard to the consequences
of the act upon my own welfare should tempt me to wrong-do
ing, so they ought not to be my reasons for following the right.
Virtue must he cultivated for its own sake ; otherwise, it is not
virtue, but selfishness. It is hardly necessary to say, that the
law is so watchful and exacting, that it descends to th * secrets
of the heart, and declares what the purpose shall be, befwe that
purpose is realized in the act ; this is the primary function of
the conscience. The immediate object of the law, as already
observed, is not conduct, hut the intention which regulates the
conduct. And all these points in the law are rendered so plain
and familiar, even to the uninstructed, that in enlarging upon
them, I must appear to you to be dwelling upon mere truisms.
It is only when we come to reflect upon the marvellous consti
tution of our bodies and minds, considered as the work of the
Almighty, and as indicating his will, that these worn truths re-
assume freshness and interest. At other times, we take them
for granted, and intend to act upon them.
Wh^v^/rtue^s enjoined. The question may now be asked,
Why is it that we are enjoined to cultivate such dispositions of
mind, or to act upon such intentions, in preference to all others ?
In one sense, the answer has been already given ; it is because
we have an intuitive knowledge^ that. virtue is of paramount ob
ligation, or absolutely binding for its own sake, so that to inquire,
why it is obligatory, is just as much an impertinence as it would
324 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW.
be to ask, why two and two make four. The axioms of morals
stand on the same basis with the axioms of mathematics ; they
cannot be proved because they need no proof; they are self-
evident. But as we are here considering the subject in refer
ence to the Divine government and the character of God, I put
the question in a little different form : Why has the Deity so
constituted our minds that we must perceive the sivpfeme obliga
tion of virtue ? If it was not His will alone which established
the moral law, it was certainly His will which gave us the
power or faculty of perceiving that law and its absolute obliga
tion, and thereby of distinguishing right from wrong. He
might have constituted us like the lower animals, who have no
knowledge of it whatever. Why did he impart that knowl
edge to us ? or, in other words, why has he given to man a con
science ?
Conscience not needed for the preservation of life. Certainly,
not for the same reason for which we are endowed with appe
tites ; these were intended to stimulate us to the exertions that
are requisite before the wants of the body can be supplied.
Without hunger, we should forget or neglect to eat, just as we
now omit many precautions and exercises which are really im
portant for the preservation of health, though not, like food,
absolutely essential to life. But conscience is not essential for
the preservation of animal life ; like the brutes, we might get
along without it ; that is, we might preserve a merely animal
existence. So one use of intellect a lower use, but yet a
sufficient reason for implanting the faculty in man is to direct
those exertions to which we are stimulated by the appetites
and desires, or to discover appropriate means for those ends
which are pointed out to us by our physical constitution. In
this respect, reason takes the place in man of instinct in the
brute creation. But a sense of duty is not needed for the per
formance of this office, so that we still ask, why we were gifted
with this sense. The manifold arrangements and beautiful
contrivances, with which the purely material universe abounds,
all subserve important ends, and in these ends we read the pur
poses of their Contriver. Each has its part to play in uphold-
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 325
ing the fabric of that universe of which it is a portion, and we
know that it was designed to fill that part. But the law of right,
with the consciousness of it which animates every human breast,
has no such function to perform. Earth s base is not built upon
it ; nor does it form the pillars which support the material fir
mament. The outer world might exist without it, as the geolo
gists tell us it did, for ages before it was tenanted by man. The
laws of gravitation, chemical affinity, and the like, if I may
adopt for a moment the phraseology of a theory which I repu
diate, all work to visible and highly useful ends ; Does the
law of morality alone answer no purpose in the universe which
God Jaas made ?
Conscience overrules all considerations of utility. The ques
tion becomes still more striking, when we remember that con
science not only is not needed for any of the offices which we
have thus far considered, but that it absolutely precludes all
reference to them, when their performance would come in conflict
with any of its own absolute commands. The call of duty must
be obeyed, though the appetites should remain without their
appropriate food, and the desires should languish, and the intel
lect should forget its cunning ; the demands of justice must be
satisfied, though the body should perish, and even though the
heavens should fall. And this peculiarity in the law of con
science enables us to prove, that one beneficial result, which
actually is accomplished by implanting this faculty in man, still
does not reveal the reason or purpose for which it was so im
planted. The law does conduce to the welfare of society, which
probably could not even exist without it. That state of things
which Hobbes imagined and described with so much graphic
power, as the natural state of man, unquestionably would be his
natural state, if, as Hobbes supposed, his desires and actions
were not controlled by any innate sense of right. Every man
would be the natural enemy of his fellow, the passions and ap
petites stimulating him to grasp at every thing which pleased
his senses, or promised future enjoyment, without regard to any
principle of ownership, and without consciousness of any law,
whether human or Divine, which forbade robbery or unpro-
28
326 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW.
voked aggression. Man would be a solitary and purely selfisli
animal, never meeting even his nearest relative except in a
struggle to wrest from him any valuable which his strength or
ingenuity had created. There could be " no arts, no letters, no
society ; and the life of man [would be] solitary, poor, nasty,
brutish, and short."
But conscience furnishes that restraining and regulating force
which Hobbes could find only in a wise despotism. The feel
ing of moral obligation introduces order into this chaos. The
individual voluntarily submits to the ordinances of society de
creed and enforced for the common good, because the sense of
duty, the idea of submission to law and right, is inwoven in his
constitution. He becomes capable of human government,
because Divine government is established in his own bosom.
And as society in this way first becomes practicable, so its wel
fare is promoted just in proportion to the prevalence of the
sense of right among its members. If the practice of virtue
were universal, if men acted up to their own convictions of
duty, there would be no need of human legislation, or of any
external apparatus for the government of man.
( Virtue not enjoined Jor the sake ofjits outward beneficial con-
seqitences. Still, I say, the great good thus effected is not the
object for which the practice of virtue is enjoined. Conscience
itself informs us that it is not; far from laying down the rule
because its observance would be beneficial to society, it erects
the rule itself into a standard to which our regard for the wel
fare, the material well-being, of the community must conform.
Justice must be enforced, though the commonwealth should suf
fer for it. Though the pride of the state should be humiliated,
and its power be diminished, and its prosperity should receive a
real or a seeming check, the law of right must be obeyed. It
must have absolute sway and masterdom, for in this light alone
it is revealed to us. Virtue ps an end, never a means ; and, of
course, the end can never become subservient to the means.
Instead of saying, therefore, that the moral law was enacted for
the benefit of society, in order that men might live peace
ably and profitably together, it would be more proper to affirm,
VJ SUM/
THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 327
that, so far as we can see into the designs of Providence, soci
ety itself was intended to be only the occasion and the theatre for
the display and development of this law, in order that the virtues
which it enjoins might have scope and objects on which they
might be exercised. The good . which the community reaps
from the cultivation of virtue, is, therefore, an incidental advan
tage of the law, not the great purpose for which it was or
dained.
The law of^onscien^^r^i^al^ && character of the Creator.
Finding, then, that no object or purpose, inferior in dignity and
excellence to the law of rectitude itself, affords any sufficient
reason why that law was engraved on the human soul, we are
compelled to admit, that the contents of the law are simply a
revelation of the character of the Creator. Absolute rectitude
or holiness is His will, because it is His nature, and the law which
requires it is a reflection of that nature. In its purity and com
prehensiveness, in its primary reference to character rather
than conduct, in governing the affections and motives whence the
acts proceed, rather than the acts themselves, and in its claim to
absolute dominion and supremacy, excluding even the idea of
subserviency -to lower ends, the law images to us the perfec
tions of Him from whom we received it.
Thus, by the way of observation and experience, we arrive
at that conclusion respecting the moral attributes of the Al
mighty, which is usually obtained deductively, or by necessary
inference from his eternal and uncaused duration. This course
is most satisfactory to my own mind, because it does not leave
us to reconcile as we may the unlimited conclusions of a priori
reasoning with the subsequent lessons of experience ; but the
doctrine carries its own justification along w r ith it, and harmo
nizes with all which we have previously learned from the
study of external nature, and of Our own intellectual and moral
being.
Conscience requires perfection. It is unnecessary here to
catry out the reasoning in detail, and deduce the moral attri
butes of God, one by one, from the requisitions of our moral na
ture. This application of the argument is sufficiently easy and
328 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
obvious. We need only remark, that these requisitions are un
limited. Every virtue, every trait of character, that is to be
cultivated at all, is enjoined to its utmost extent, perfection be
ing the only standard that is placed before us. It is not a cer
tain measure of justice that we are required to render towards
our fellow-beings, but absolute justice, to all men, and on all
occasions. We have proof, then, that the moral attributes of
the Almighty exist each in its perfection ; in Him are absolute
justice, purity, truth, and love.
How far the natural course of events enforces the law of right.
It only remains to inquire, if the evidence from without tends
to strengthen and confirm that belief in the moral government
of God, which is founded primarily upon the internal constitu
tion of our faculties ; in other words, if the natural course of
things in the external world, the ordinary tendencies of human
affairs, harmonize with and enforce those laws which are set
up in the conscience. As both the inner and the outer world
are under the guidance of the same wise and omnipotent Being,
we naturally expect that the testimonies of the two will coin
cide, or that the principles established in the one will be, to a
great extent, or in all their main features, carried out in the
other. I say, " to a great extent ; " because we do not look, in
the current of human fortunes, for that immediate and invariable
enforcement of the moral law, which would either deprive man
of his free agency, or reduce his virtue to a mere selfish regard
for his own happiness. If, for instance, honesty were the best
policy, not merely as a general principle, and in r the long run,
but always, instantly, and plainly, there would be great danger
that men would altogether ceas to be honest, in the proper
sense of the term, and would be only politic. So weak are
human purposes, that we cannot often be certain of ourselves,
until an emergency arises in which we are required to be virtu
ous at some apparent cost, or by some sacrifice. God s justice
will be sufficiently vindicated, if it shall at length appear, that
the cost is only apparent, and that the sacrifice is ultimately re
paid a hundred fold.
How happiness is distributed in this world. What we ob-
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 329
serve of the distribution of happiness in this world between the
virtuous and the wicked, has been so clearly and fully stated by
Adam Smith, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, that I borrow
his language. " If we consider," he says, " the general rules
by which external prosperity and adversity are commonly dis
tributed in this life, we shall find, that notwithstanding the
disorder in which all things appear to be in this world, yet even
here, every virtue naturally meets with its proper reward, with
the recompense which is most fit to encourage and promote it ;
and this, too, so surely, that it requires a very extraordinary
concurrence of circumstances entirely to disappoint it. What
is the reward most proper for encouraging industry, prudence,
and circumspection ? Success in every sort of business. And
is it possible, that, in the whole of life, these virtues should fail
of attaining it ? Wealth and external honors are their proper
recompense, and the recompense which they can seldom fail of
acquiring. What reward is most proper for promoting the
practice of truth, justice, and humanity? The confidence, the
esteem and love, of those we live with. Humanity does not
desire to be great, but to be beloved. It is not in being rich
that truth and justice would rejoice, but in being trusted and
believed, recompenses which those virtues must almost al
ways acquire.
" By some very extraordinary and unlucky circumstance, a
good man may come to be suspected of a crime, of which he
was altogether incapable, and upon that account, be most un
justly exposed, for the remaining part of his life, to the horror
and aversion of mankind. By an accident of this kind, he may
be said to lose his all, notwithstanding his integrity and justice ;
in the same manner as a cautious man, notwithstanding his ut
most circumspection, may be ruined by an earthquake or an
inundation. Accidents of the first kind, however, are perhaps
still more rare, and still more contrary to the common course of
things, than those of the second ; and it still remains true, that
the practice of truth, justice, and humanity is a certain and
almost infallible method of acquiring what those virtues chiefly
aim at, the confidence and love of those we live with. A per-
28*
330 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
son may be very easily misrepresented with regard to a particu
lar action ; but it is scarce possible that he should be so with
regard to the general tenor of his conduct. An innocent man
may be believed to have done wrong ; this, however, will rarely
happen. On the contrary, the established opinion of the inno
cence of his manners will often lead us to absolve him where
he has really been in fault, notwithstanding very strong pre
sumptions. A knave, in the same manner, may escape censure,
or even meet with applause, for a particular knavery in which
his conduct is not understood. But no man was ever habitually
such, without being almost universally known to be so, and
without being even frequently suspected of guilt when he was
in reality perfectly innocent. And so far as vice and virtue
can be either punished or rewarded by the sentiments and
opinions of mankind, they both, according to the common
course of things, meet, even here, with something more than
exact and impartial justice," ^
The connection between virtue and happiness admitted by all
men. But my point is, perhaps, sufficiently established by a
general reference, to the fact, that nearly all writers upon the
theory of ethics, some of whom have written against the evi
dences of religion, have yet traced a close connection between
virtue and happiness ; many of them going so far as to main
tain,, that virtue is obligatory only because it is useful ; * and
* Hume, in his Principles of Morals, adopts the Selfish System to its
full extent, .maintaining that the virtues are obligatory upon us only
because they are pleasing and amiable, and because they conduce to our
own welfare and to the welfare of those around us, in whom we are in
terested by sympathy. According to this System, self-denial is not a vir
tue ; a sacrifice of happiness can never be a duty, since an action becomes
obligatory only so far as it conduces to happiness. "Are not justice,
fidelity, honor, veracity, allegiance, chastity/ he inquires, " esteemed soldi/
on account of their tendency to promote the good of society ? " Speaking of
industry, discretion/frugality, etc., he asks, "can it be doubted, that the
tendency of these qualities to promote the interest and happiness of their
possessor, is the sole foundation of their merit ? " He had previously de
clared, that "personal merit consists altogether in the possession of mental
qualities useful or agreeable to the person himself, or to others." On this
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 331
others, more trustworthy, holding up utility as the only safe
criterion or test oi right conduct; so that, when we are in
doubt whether a .certain action is morally right or wrong, the
ground, such pleasing personal qualities as wit, good-manners, affability,
liveliness, etc., are elevated by him to the rank of virtues ; while self-denial,
humility, and the like, are transferred to " the opposite column," and placed
" in the catalogue of vices."
In answer to this sophistry, it is enough to say ,_ that conscience rcquir .1
us to act justly, even to the extent, if necessary, of abridging our ov i
means of happiness, and injuring the welfare of the community in whi( h
we live. It is not necessary to prove, that an act of justice may sometimes
require such a sacrifice/ It is enough .that the agent believes he is resign
ing some personal good,, or is perilling his own welfare, by following tKo
dictates of conscience. There may be a. compensation to him in the loi;g
run ; bat if he does not foresee that compensation, does not believe that ho
will obtain it, and acts altogether without reference to it, then, in the virw
of all the spectators of his conduct, his merit is enhanced by his disin
terestedness. According to Hume, this very disinterestedness renders the
action blamable instead of praiseworthy. If an apparently benevolent
action is found to have a taint of selfishness in it, if the agent was really
consulting his own good Avhjle he appeared to be acting solely for others,
he actually forfeits all claim to the approbation of other persons or of his
own conscience ; but, according to Hume, his merit would be enhanced by
such a motive. In respect to the definitions of virtue and personal merit
which lead Hume to confound talents with virtues, Dugald Stewart justly
remarks, " nothing can be plainer than that the words virtue and vice are
applicable only to those parts of our character and conduct which depend
on our own voluntary exertions. Sensibility, gayety, liveliness, good-
humor, natural affection, are a source of pleasure to every beholder, and,
wherever they are to be found, entitle the possessor to the appellation of
amiable; but in so far as they result from original constitution, or from
external circumstances over which he had no control, they certainly do not
render him an object of moral approbation. *
Still, the testimony of such a moralist as Hume upon the point con
sidered in the text, the intimate connection between virtue and happi
ness, is valuable, for it is the testimony of an opponent of all religion.
The following passage is the conclusion of his " Inquiry concerning the
Principles of Morals."
" Let a man suppose that he has full power of modelling his own dis
position, and let him deliberate what appetite or desire he would choose
for the foundation of his happiness and enjoyment. Every affection,
he would observe, when gratified by success, gives a satisfaction proper-
332 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
only mode of resolving that doubt is to inquire, whether the
action is, on the whole, beneficial or injurious to the agent, to
society, and to mankind. There may be a few moralists who
tioned to its force and violence : but besides this advantage, common
to all, the immediate feeling of benevolence and friendship, humanity
and kindness, is sweet, smooth,, tender, and agreeable, independent of
all fortune and accidents. These virtues are, besides, attended with a
pleasing consciousness or remembrance, and keep as in humor with
ourselves as well as others ; while we retain the agreeable reflection of
having done our part towards mankind and society. And though all men
show a jealousy of our success in the pursuits of avarice and ambition ;
yet are we almost sure of their good-will and good wishes, so long as we
persevere in the paths of virtue, and employ ourselves in the execution of
generous plans and purposes. What other passion is there where we shall
find so many advantages united ; an agreeable sentiment, a pleasing con
sciousness, a good reputation ? But of these truths, we may observe, men
are of themselves pretty much convinced ; nor are they deficient in their
duty to society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and
humane, but because they do not feel themselves such.
" Treating vice with the greatest candor, and making it all possible con
cessions, we must acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the
smallest pretext for giving it the preference above virtue, with a view to
self-interest ; except, perhaps, in the case of justice, where a man, taking
things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his integrity.
And though it is allowed that, without a regard to property, no society
could subsist, yet, according to the imperfect way in which human affairs
are conducted, a sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an
act of iniquity or infidelity will make considerable addition to his fortune,
without causing any considerable breach in the social union and con
federacy. That honesty is the best policy may be a good general rule, but
is liable to many exceptions. And he, it may perhaps be thought, con
ducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes
advantage of all the exceptions.
" I must confess, that if a man think that this reasoning much requires
an answer, it will be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear
satisfactory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious
maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villany or baseness,
he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue ; and we may expect
that his practice will be answerable to his speculation. But in all ingen
uous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to be
counterbalanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advantage. Inward
peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a satisfactory review of our own
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 333
would not accept either of these doctrines in so broad and un
qualified a manner as I have stated them ; but I never heard
of one who was bold enough to maintain, that vice, on the whole,
was the best policy for the individual, or most likely to promote
the interests of society ; the common sense of mankind would
instantly reject so monstrous a paradox. For the truth on this
subject is held not merely by instructed -and reflecting men, by
those who are inclined to speculative pursuits, or who have
made ethics a favorite study, but it is embodied in a multitude
of. those proverbs and axiomatic sayings, which are the reposi
tories of the wisdom and the experience of the bulk of mankind.
Poor Richard s morality is a mere string of such sayings, all
going to show the invariable connection between integrity, so-*
briety, and industry on the one hand, and health, peace of mind,
reputation, and riches on the other. The indignation or sorrow
which we feel, when one of these virtues fails to meet its appro
priate reward, or when, in solitary instances, knavery or indo-
eonduct, these are circumstances very requisite to happiness, and will be
cherished and cultivated by every honest man who feels the importance of
them.
" Such a one has, besides, the frequent satisfaction of seeing knaves,
with all their pretended cunning and abilities, betrayed by their own
maxims ; and while they purpose to cheat with moderation and secrecy, a
tempting incident occurs, nature is frail, and they give into the snare ;
whence they can never extricate themselves, without a total loss of repu
tation, and the forfeiture of all future trust and confidence with mankind.
" But were they ever so secret and successful, the honest man, if he has
any tincture of philosophy, or even common observation and reflection,
will discover that they themselves are, in the end, the greatest dupes, and
have sacrificed the invaluable enjoyment of a character, with themselves at
least, for the acquisition of worthless toys and gewgaws. How little is
requisite to supply the necessities of nature ? And in a view to pleasure,
what comparison between the unbought satisfaction of conversation, so
ciety, study, even health and the common beauties of nature, but above
all, the peaceful reflection on one s own conduct, what comparison, I
say, between these, and the feverish, empty amusements, of luxury and
expense ? These natural pleasures, indeed, are really without price ; both
because they are below all -price in their attainment, and above it in their
enjoyment." J .
334 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
lence seems for a time to prosper, is always mingled with sur
prise at an occurrence so unlocked for ; and the prominence
which the case at once assumes, the frequency of the allusions
to it, shows both that our moral constitution is very sensitive in
this respect, and that the vast majority of examples turn the
other way.
Pleasures and pains are intended to urge us to right conduct.
There are many pleasures and pains which follow so closely
upon the virtuous and vicious actions of which they are the le
gitimate consequences, or have so obvious and intimate a con
nection with them, that even the most unthinking or immoral
persons are obliged to admit, that these consequences are proper
rewards and punishments, which were intended both to guide
and to urge us to right conduct. Take the effects upon the
bodily health, for instance. It is notorious, that vice enfeebles,
corrupts, poisons, and destroys the physical constitution, while
virtue invigorates and preserves it, retards the approach of dis
ease, or mitigates its virulence when it comes, sweetens life and
prolongs it. The laws of hygiene, when well understood, are hit
interpretations of the laws of morals. The physician will tell
you, that he who desires the greatest of all earthly blessings
a sound mind in a sound body has no shorter course for ob
taining it than by making himself a thoroughly good man. The
unhappy consequences of intemperance and debauchery, of
riotous and malevolent passions, are so many beacons erected
along the roadside, to warn the traveller against even occasional
deviations from the path of rectitude. Debility, consumption,
fever, insanity, and nearly all the other ills that flesh is heir to,
when traced to their sources, are usually seen to be the results
of imprudence or sin ; and even if apparently transmitted by
inheritance, so that the immediate sufferer under them is guilt
less, the warning which they utter is only the more impressive,
as they show that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the
children, and the natural affections are thus more strongly en
listed on the side of virtue. Can any one even imagine, that
this direct connection between right Conduct and bodily health,
is accidental or meaningless ? Ought w.e not rather to consider
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 335
it but as one feature, and that not the most prominent one, in
the broad scheme of Divine government, all the parts of which
are consistent with each other, and all visibly tend to the up
holding of that law which is written upon the heart ?
The tendencies of virtue and vice. We have still further
proof that virtue is advantageous both to the virtuous man and
to society, if we look not only to its direct consequences, but
to its tendencies. There are many hindrances here below to
what may be called the natural operation of things. Take
away these impediments ; give time, scope, and opportunity for
each cause to work separately, and produce its appropriate re
sults, unobstructed by the action of other causes, and we shall
more easily discern its true nature and peculiar effects. Virtue
and vice, for instance, are commingled among men, and even in
the same person ; the beneficial effects of the one are hidden or
neutralized by the unhappy consequences of the other ; the
merit of a good action is obscured by the misconduct that fol
lows it. An upright man suffers from the crimes of his ances
tors or his neighbors ; even in this case, we see that crime is
punished, or has injurious tendencies ; only merit does not seem
to receive its due. In fact, it is rewarded, for the suffering
which flows from the crimes of others would be enhanced, if the
sufferer himself were also guilty. As it is, his innocence miti
gates the blow, the consciousness of integrity, under any circum
stances being one of the greatest delights the mind can expe
rience. Isolate each case, consider how virtue and vice would
work, if they were not brought in contact with each other, and
their respective tendencies, or the true character of their effects,
will be revealed.
Suppose, for example, as Bishop Butler has done, the exist
ence of a republic or society of men, perfectly virtuous, during
a succession of ages. Selfishness, fraud, or treachery, would
have no part in their councils ; they would deliberate only about
the best means of effecting good, and no force would be needed
in order to carry their decisions into effect. Envy having no
place among them, the direction of affairs would readily be con
ceded to those who had the most intelligence and capacity ; and
336 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
these would covet the post only from the superior advantages it
afforded for carrying out their benevolent schemes or projects
for advancing the common welfare. As all would be equally
industrious, poverty with its long train of ills would be unknown j
almshouses would be no more needed than prisons. Health and
long life would reward their temperance and the restraint of
their passions, and death would be only the painless sequel of
old age, when one was satiated with living. The neighboring
communities, revering their virtues or admiring their prosperity,
would hasten to place themselves under their dominion ; and
their peaceful victories ivould far exceed all that have ever
been gained by the sword.
I know that this supposition could never be realized, except
by a change miraculously effected in the hearts of men ; but
improbable as it seems, is it any thing more than a faithful de
lineation of what the consequences of virtue would be, if it
were possible to separate them from the effects of vice ? Grant
that such characters are possible, and even from what we now
see of the current of this world s affairs, is it not certain that
such conduct and such prosperity would be the result? If so,
the intentions of the Almighty are apparent even in the present
and actual constitution of things. Virtue, as suck, is rewarded,
and vice, as such, is punished, in spite of the seeming confusion
that results from both these classes of effects being visible at
the same time.
The inward delights of virtue. However the outward ad
vantages of right conduct may be hidden for a time, the inward
delights which it produces are constant and of vast importance ;
and as these result from the general constitution of our
minds, apart from the moral faculty itself, they are properly
ranked among the incentives to and rewards of virtue. It is
well observed by Sir James Mackintosh, that although there
may be immortal acts which, in some sense, or for a season,
appear to be advantageous to the actor, "the whole sagacity
and ingenuity of the world may be safely challenged to point
out a case, in which virtuous dispositions, habits, and feelings
are not conducive in the highest degree to the happiness of
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 337
the individual ; or to maintain that he is not the happiest, whose
moral sentiments and affections are such as to prevent the possi
bility of the prospect of advantage, through unlawful means, from
presenting itself to his mind. It would, indeed, have been im
possible to prove to Regulus, that it was his interest [volun
tarily] to return to a death of torture in Africa, [merely because
he had plighted his word that he would return]. But what if
the proof had been easy ? The most thorough conviction on
such a point would not have enabled him to set this example, if
he had not been supported by his own integrity and generosity,
by love of his country, and reverence for his pledged faith.
What could the conviction add to that greatness of soul, and to
these glorious attributes ? With such virtues, he could not act
otherwise than he did. Would a father, affectionately inter
ested in a son s happiness, of very lukewarm feelings of moral
ity, but of good sense enough to weigh gratifications and suffer
ings exactly, be really desirous that his son should have these
virtues in a less degree than Regulus, merely because they
might expose him to the fate which Regulus chose ? On the
coldest calculation, he would surely perceive, that the high and
glowing feelings of such a mind during life, altogether throw
into the shade a few hours of agony in leaving it. And if he
himself were so unfortunate, that no more generous sentiment
arose in his mind to silence such calculations, would it not be a
reproach to his understanding not to discover, that though, in
one case out of millions, such a character might lead a Regulus
to torture, yet, in the common course of nature, it is the source
not only of happiness in life, but of quiet and honor in death ?
A case so extreme as that of Regulus will not perplex, if we
bear in mind, that, though we cannot prove the act of heroic
virtue to be conducive to the interest of the hero, yet we may
perceive at once, that nothing is so conducive to his interest as
to have a mind so formed that it could not shrink from it, but
must rather embrace it with gladness and triumph."
This case is not so singular as we are apt to imagine. Every
prisoner of WCLT who observes his parol, though the consequence
to himself is a long and irksome captivity, acts from the same
29
338 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
motives which guided the conduct of the Roman hero, and at a
sacrifice, which, though less than his, is still considerable. But
in the estimate not only of his comrades, with their peculiar
notions of honor, but of all mankind, this sacrifice is so far from
being unaccompanied by a full recompense in the high and
pleasurable feelings which attend it, that, if he fails to make
it, he becomes an object of universal pity and contempt.
Human government is but one form of Divine government.
That many of the rewards and punishments which wait upon
the observance or infraction of the Divine law, are dispensed at
human tribunals, or through the agency of men in society, is no
proof that they are not divinely appointed. Human government
is but one form or manifestation of Heaven s direction and con
trol, rendered somewhat less upright and sure, it is true, by
passing through man s hands, but yet created in all its essential
features by what are called the necessities of the case ; that is,
arranged with reference to the wants and interests of society,
these wants and interests being determined by the general con
stitution of things, or by the ordinary current of human affairs,
which is formed and guided by the wisdom and power of the
Deity. Crime, for instance, is punished by men, not so much
because it is disobedience to God, as because it is prejudicial to
society ; but then it is God s appointment that it should be thus
prejudicial to- society, and that men should thereby be urged to
punish it. Now the prevailing tone and direction of human
law, in all countries and all ages, is coincident with the dictates
of conscience. Virtue is rewarded, and vice is punished, by so
ciety. Examine all the codes of law that have ever been framed,
and you will find that their chief purpose and tendency are to
repress immoral conduct, and to encourage and protect the
innocent and the virtuous. That government is a bad one, which
fails to carry out these purposes with sufficient vigor, prompt
ness, and effect, or which mingles up with them more or less of
unholy ambition and arrogant self-will ; but no government was
ever wicked enough to reverse these purposes, and to aim
directly and avowedly at the encouragement of vice, the dis
tress of innocence, and the punishment of goodness. Even an
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 339
y
Asiatic despotism professes, and probably intends, to punish
theft, perjury, fraud, and unprovoked injury, in all cases where
its own interest is not immediately concerned ; that is, of course,
in the vast majority of cases that arise among its subjects. It
may omit all the forms and precautions that civilized nations
have come to observe, as the safeguards of innocence and pre
servatives against unintentional wrong; it may administer wild
justice, but justice is its aim ; it wields the sword against crime,
and often with terrible effect. Even the law which regulates
the intercourse of nations with each other, and which, prob
ably, is the most imperfect of human codes, still founds most of
its provisions on the natural sense of right, and most of the
actions which it forbids are decidedly immoral and injurious.
It is an obvious remark, that a system or scheme of govern
ment should be distinguished from a number of single, uncon
nected acts of distributive justice and goodness. Now the in
stances already adduced, are surely enough to show, that if
there be such a system or general plan, it is favorable to virtue,
and was designed to encourage men in right conduct. All that
can be urged on the other side amounts to a gleaning of discon
nected facts, in regard to which, it may be difficult to see that
the law of equity, of righteous retribution, has been observed ;
it is not pretended that these facts are numerous or grave enough
to afford a presumption, either that the government is favorable
to vice, or else that there is no government at all, pleasure
and pain, prosperity and adversity, being allotted at random.
Thus much is admitted on all hands ; that the virtuous man is
prosperous is the rule ; that the vicious sometimes succeed, is the
exception. We have a right, then, to appeal to our ignorance
and shortsightedness, to our limited means of observation, in or
der to explain away even these few exceptions. We cannot trace
all the consequences of another s act ; those which are near may
be injurious, those which are remote may be beneficial, and far
more numerous and important. We cannot enter into the mind
of the agent, and discern what secret satisfaction is there, which
far outweighs the external harm. Above all, we may be mis
taken in the character of the act itself, and lose sight of the dis-
340 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
tinction between absolute and relative rectitude. A seemingly
meritorious deed may have had its origin in selfishness ; another,
wrongful in its outward aspect, may have proceeded from the
highest and holiest intentions. We are not, then, lightly to sup
pose that the moral government of God is at fault, 1 even in iso
lated cases.
The moral world subject to general laws, as well as the physical
world. We conclude, then, from an abundance of testimony,
that the sense of moral obligation, which rises spontaneously in
the mind of every human being, and is as much a part of his
constitution as his reason or his senses, is supported and en
forced by arrangements in the world without, and by the course
of events in the external history of man. The law has been
traced up to the Lawgiver, and in the contents of the law we
have found a delineation of the character of its Author. We
now learn, that, as the Creator and Governor of the universe,
he has established a harmony between the requisitions of that
law which he has imprinted on the conscience, and the external
fortunes of men, or the current of this world s affairs. The
moral world, or the history of mankind, is no more an unregu
lated chaos, or a fortuitous combination and succession of dis
similar and characterless events, than" is the physical universe.
In both, we discern, not merely the filaments of order, but a
closely woven web covered with a uniform and glorious pattern.
General laws, as they are called, literally in the former case,
metaphorically in the latter, are found to pervade the whole
fabric. It is not more certain, that the forms and changes of
aggregations of matter are determined according to the princi
ples of gravitation, affinity, definite proportions, and the like,
than it is that the consequences of human action and the annals
of human life accord with the fixed principles of morals and
the stern demands of distributive justice. To the uninstructed
mind, not trained in habits of scientific observation, and unskil
ful in finding the key which converts an apparent maze into an
harmonious and well proportioned plan, there are not only many
anomalies, but seeming lawlessness and confusion in both.
Apparent exceptions really prove the general rule. If the
;
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 341
child or the savage, for instance, should begin to trace the
yearly paths of the planets among the stars, as they actually
appear to the observer from the earth, should combine and com
pare such observations for successive years, and thus come to
know the alternate direct and retrograde motions of these
bodies, recurring at irregular intervals, the quickening and re
tarding of their pace, their occasional stops, and the strange
curves which they describe on the nightly skies, he would -cer
tainly conclude, that their seemingly fantastic movements could
neither be traced to any fixed cause working uniformly, nor
reduced to any plain and symmetrical system. He would
rather class them with the arbitrary turns, the inconstant sway
ing, rising, and falling of a single feather left to float at random
in the wind. But the man of science places before you the
simple diagram of the solar system, explains each illusion that
arises from the position of the observer on the earth, deduces
every movement that takes place from the single principle of
gravitation, by the aid of which he can predict the very point
of space whi.ch either of the orbs will occupy at any future mo
ment, and thus shows, in truth, that the simplicity of the scheme,
and the harmony of all its parts with each other, are its most
striking features. He will even find harmony and law in the
capricious movements of the feather, and show that all its gyra
tions may be traced to the same law of gravitation which
directs the planets, and which operates as regularly and abso
lutely in this case, as in guiding those vast bodies in their swift
flight around the sun.
Just so the moral world, the history of the individual, of na
tions, and of the race, to the unreflecting or careless mind, seems
to present a mere jumble of events, the blind goddess of for
tune distributing the parts, and allotting at random to each per
former the measure of good and evil in this life which he is
fated to receive. But study this maze by the aid of the eternal
principles of right and wrong which are enthroned in every
heart, strive to go behind the external trappings of prosperity
and adversity, to count the hours of real, not merely seeming,
enjoyment, or, in other words, to explore the private history of
29*
342 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED.
every man, as well as the story of liis outer and public life, and
this confusion will clear away almost as fully as in the case of
the physical universe. I say " almost as fully ; " for it cannot
be denied, that the problem is more complicated in its very
nature; the material universe, in all its large features, pre
sents to us exclusively the picture of God s doings ; the moral
world, so far as it is visible to our eyes, shows the union of
man s action with that of his Maker. God still governs, and
that absolutely ; but through moral, not mechanical means.
Human freewill is allowed a large theatre on which to develop
itself, and the results are necessarily more complex and intri
cate than when Divine agency alone is exerted. Still, the gov
ernment prevails, order reigns, eternal laws are prescribed and
enforced, and the purposes of the Almighty are carried out.
In the distribution of bodily and mental health and disease ; in
the conditions of what is called success in life ; in the secret
contentment and joy which wait on the unostentatious fulfilment
of ordinary duties, and in the glow and exaltation of feeling
which accompany and reward a great apparent sacrifice for the
right ; in the institutions of society and the sympathies of man
kind, which aim directly to encourage the good and to punish
the evil-doer ; in these and many other circumstances, I see
all the grand features of a comprehensive plan, wisely contrived
and efficiently carried out, to win men to the practice of virtue
and to punish every violation of the moral law. If, in a few
cases, I behold apparent exceptions to the rule, or am not able
to trace the workings of the plan, I do but follow the ordinary
principles of scientific method and inductive logic in maintain
ing, with full-assured belief, that a more complete knowledge of
the circumstances would show that the scheme operates even
here, the seeming anomalies being in truth its most beautiful
exemplifications. If a planet on the outer verge of our system
shows perturbations for which, according to our present knowl
edge of that system, the law of gravity will not account, I do
not therefore conclude that the law is suspended in this single
case, but rather wait with firm trust for the progress of discovery
to point out some still exterior orb, as yet invisible to mortal
THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 343
eyes, the action of which will explain the seeming disturbance,
and make the law appear as universal as it is wise.
The general rule should not be sought for in isolated cases.
The argument for the moral government, the justice and be
nevolence of the Deity in his ways with men, has, I think, suf
fered somewhat by the injudicious course of those who have
treated it, in dwelling at too great length upon these isolated
cases and seeming anomalies, as if at least a probable explana
tion of every one of them was needed before we could believe
in the system ; or as if there could be no government at all, un
less, with our present imperfect means of information, we could
plainly see that it was a perfect government. But the man of
science will tell you, that the principle which really holds
throughout a class is to be sought for, not among the few scat
tered members of that class which are least known, but in the
vast majority of those cases which are most directly exposed to
observation. Look away from these specks and anomalies, and
contemplate the broad features of the case. He who, on the
evidence thus presented, will still doubt, whether the general
and widely prevailing tendency of this world s affairs is really
to uphold the law of conscience by a system of rewards and
punishments graduated to that end, and actually intended by
the Disposer of all things so to influence the conduct of men, is
not a person to be reasoned with, but to be pitied.
How anomalous facts in history are to be explained. The
history of distant countries and past ages affords some perplexi
ties in this view of the subject, precisely because it is a very-
imperfect description of men and events that are little known.
We are prone to consider nations as individuals, morally respon
sible, and having a continuous life ; and hence to require that
their external fortunes should be adjusted to their deserts, and
thus the justice of God be vindicated on a large scale. Why,
then, we ask, for instance, were the Northern barbarians allowed
to overrun what was then the only enlightened portion of the
globe, and to tread out all but the last spark of learning and
civilization, as it seemed, for centuries to come ? I answer,
first, that the researches of modern historians and philosophical
344 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCEP.
inquirers have fully established the point, that this seeming
deluge of barbarism actually renovated a soil that had become
effete, and planted in it the fresh seeds of knowledge and pro
gress, which afterwards shot up ki such luxuriance at the Re
vival of Letters. If a stranger, wholly unacquainted with the
circumstances of the case, should happen to visit Egypt at the
season when all its cultivated fields are under water, and the
inhabitants are compelled to move about in boats, he would
probably conclude that the inundation of the Nile was a judg
ment upon the people for their sins. I answer, secondly, that
a nation has only a fictitious unity and personality, individuals
being the only actual subjects of the Divine government. Now
history teaches us but very little about individuals, except of
the few who occupy thrones or other prominent stations in the
state, and who, from the very peculiarity of their position, afford
us no safe rule by which we can estimate the characters and
fortunes of the multitude. If, therefore, when we trace the for
tunes of nations, the operation of the law is not very manifest,
this is precisely what we might expect. Let the inquirer take
the history of a single person, especially his own history, the
only one that he c"an know thoroughly, and the fact that he
lives under the Divine government becomes far more obvious.
Let him inquire whether his own situation and experience fur
nish greater inducements for the practice of virtue or vice, and
{/ there is little fear that he will arrive at a false conclusion.
It is true, then, in the moral as well as the physical sense,
that God governs the earth, governs it, too, in both cases, not
by secondary causes or vicarious means, but by the direct and
constant exertion of his own wisdom and power. The belief of
the pious heart is also the conclusion of the enlightened under
standing, that the will of the Almighty determines all events,
and disposes them for good. Science adopts and sanctions the
theory of religion in regard to an overruling-Providence ; the
theory which discerns a moral purpose in ail things, maintain
ing that they were specially designed to produce a certain effect
on the character and the conduct ; which subordinates the
physical to the moral, considering the former as means, and the
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 345
latter as an end ; which regards life as a gift and a trust, to be
exercised for certain purposes, and death as a warning and a*"
token that, in a particular case, these purposes have been
accomplished.
CHAPTER VI.
THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
Summary of the last chapter. The brief examination, in the
last chapter, of the contents of the law imprinted upon the con
science, of the nature of the precepts which it issues for our ob
servance, was intended to prove, that these injunctions reveal to
us the character and attributes, as well as the purposes, of the
Almighty. They do so, because they answer no lower purpose ;
they are not subservient as means to any end but this. They were
not required to stimulate the body or mind to exertion, or to
direct that exertion, or to preserve and uphold the arrangements
and the workings of the material universe. They are of abso
lute obligation, so that the advantages which the observance of
them actually procures are to be considered as their guards and
enforcers, not as their purpose or final cause. Consequently,
they are, to the human mind which receives them, a revelation
of pure will, or a manifestation of the Divine nature and glory,
irrespective of any purposes which may be answered by the dis
play. Requiring perfection, or unlimited obedience, they show
the perfections of their Author.
The scheme of Divine government, I attempted to show,
includes a system of rewards and punishments, which follow
immediately upon the observance or transgression of the law.
Human life presents so many instances of these as to make the
conclusion irresistible, that the current of this world s affairs,
346 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
the natural course of events, is superintended and directed wiib
a view to moral retribution. The object of the pains and pleas
ures which we experience, whether they grow out of our con
nection with the body, appearing as health or disease ; or out
of the relations which bind men together in society, then taking
the form of success or failure in life, and of the honors and
penalties which society has to bestow ; or out of the constitution
of the mind itself, in the various forms and degrees of remorse
or inward gratification and the consciousness of merit ; the
object, I say, in all these cases, is to uphold and enforce the
law of right. That the incidents of life are distributed with a
view to this end is the general rule ; the apparent instances of
an unequal or fortuitous distribution of them are only apparent,
and they are the exceptions. There are a few seeming anoma
lies, which are most apt to present themselves in the considera
tion of those cases of ^ which we know the least, for instance,
of historical personages and events, while they very seldom
trouble one s retrospect of his own experience ; here, knowing
all, he knows that the law is carried out completely. And the
proper conclusion, from the presence of such anomalies as we
cannot explain, is, not that the doctrine of a superintending
Providence must be given up altogether, that doctrine being
supported by the vast majority of cases, but that we do not
always know how such a Providence acts. It is certain that
we are under a scheme of government ; but we are not able to
follow all the workings of that scheme, or to assure ourselves,
from direct observation, that it is perfect. The belief of the
pious mind is hereby amply confirmed, that all events which
affect our personal welfare, are dispensations of almighty wis
dom and justice.
The infliction of pain not inconsistent with benevolence. It
has not been without design, that I have placed the argument
for the moral government of God by a system of rewards and
punishments before the consideration of the evidences of the
Divine benevolence, though this is reversing the order usually
adopted by writers upon the subject. But it is certain that the
claims of justice are superior to those of mere benevolence.
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 347
We are required to do good to our fellow-beings so far as we
can without violating other and higher obligations ; we ought
not to deprive another of that which is rightfully his own, or to
utter an untruth, or to break our pledged faith, even for the
sake of benefiting millions, while the wrong would be felt only
by an individual. Nay, as the appointed ministers of justice, it
may often be our duty to inflict suffering, and to stifle the emo
tions of sympathy and compassion which prompt us only to
increase his happiness. What is done from such motives is no
imputation upon the benevolence of the individual ; his heart
may be overflowing with love to his neighbor, at the very mo
ment when he is doing him harm, or is the minister of the law
to him for a righteous retribution. And generally, we may
say, that the measure of immediate happiness or pain w r hich is
dispensed by any being is a very imperfect criterion of the real
goodness of his disposition. The surgeon, for instance, is not
necessarily a hardhearted man, thougn he passes his life in
causing pain to others ; he intends, indeed, to benefit them ulti
mately ; but the benefit is remote and contingent, while the suf
fering caused by the operation is immediate and certain. In
like manner, it may be better for the criminal himself, it may
be more for his highest and most permanent interest, that he
should be punished for his present offence, than that he should
be permitted to sin with impunity. Yet men have argued as if
the presence of any pain, the existence of any suffering, in the
moral universe, was a fact irreconcilable with the infinite be
nevolence of the Creator.
Punishment for wrong-doing is consistent with benevolence.
I do not dwell upon this consideration now, as a better occasion
will arise for developing it afterwards. I have alluded to it
here only to remind you, that, as the obligation to promote the
happiness of others, is always secondary to the demands of jus
tice, we may at once, in estimating the proofs of the benevolence
of the Deity, leave out of the account entirely all the pain which
is evidently produced for the punishment and repression of sin.
And how great is the deduction that will thus be made from the
amount of suffering in the world ! How large a portion of the
348 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
evils borne both by individuals and communities are attributable
directly to their own misconduct, to their wilful disregard of the
monitions of conscience ! The bodily frame, which is now lan
guid from inaction or enfeebled by disease, might have been
active and vigorous, prompt to second every wish of its owner,
and ministering to his enjoyment through every sense, joint,
and limb. The community which is now torn with civil dis
sensions, or prostrated in an unequal strife with its rivals, might
have been peaceful, affluent, and flourishing, if its rulers and
their subjects had heeded the stern calls of duty, instead of
blindly following their own tumultuous passions. Once admit
the great truth, that virtue, not happiness, is man s highest in
terest, and most of the pains of this life indicate the goodness of
God quite as clearly as its pleasures. Consider, further, that
virtue must be spontaneous or self-cultivated, since what is
compulsory or mechanical can afford no ground either for
praise or blame, and most of the problems which would other
wise perplex us in a view of this world s affairs admit of an easy
solution.
Proofs of a preponderance of happiness. But our present
object is to inquire, whether there be not, on the whole, a vast
preponderance of enjoyment in the world, from which, without
troubling ourselves yet about the presence of evil in a few
cases, we may directly infer the kindness and benignity of the
Supreme Being. . It is hardly possible to add any thing to
Paley s admirable summary of the argument upon this point,
nor can the heads of it be more forcibly or succinctly stated
than in his language. The first proposition is, " That in a vast
plurality of instances in which contrivance is perceived, the de
sign of the contrivance is beneficial ; " the second, " That the
Deity has superadded pleasure to animal sensations beyond
what was necessary to any other purpose, or when the purpose,
so far as it was necessary, might have been effected by the op
eration of pain."
His assertion, however, that evil is never the object of con
trivance, needs to be explained and limited, before we can ad
mit it. Evil here does not mean mere pain, for this, I believe,
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 349
is often intended and provided for, both to punish wrong, and to
warn us against danger. But the distribution of this pain indi
cates pure benevolence united with perfect justice. It is never
placed where it is not needed for some higher purpose ; and
therefore it is never the ultimate object of contrivance.* It is
needed, for instance, to discourage and repress wrong-doing,
the moral education of man being here the final aim of the ar
rangement. So the physiologists tell us, that the parts of the
body which are most delicate and most exposed to injury from
without, are rendered most acutely sensitive ; while those which
are guarded in the main by their position, are not liable to pain.
A mote, a grain of dust, in the eye, causes an intolerable smart ;
while the deeply seated muscles and tendons may be cut or torn
almost without the consciousness of suffering. There are good
reasons to believe, that the sensibility of the lower animals to
pain is very slight, a warning of danger being comparatively
useless to them, who have not reason and foresight to take
* As an apology for venturing to criticize this masterly argument by
Paley, I quote the whole of it, since it is unrivalled for vigor, simplicity,
and conclusiveness.
" Contrivance proves design ; and the predominant tendency of the
contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The world abounds
with contrivances ; and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with,
are directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists ; but is never,
that we can perceive, the object of contrivance, Teeth are contrived to
eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then is incidental to the con
trivance, perhaps inseparable from it ; or even, if you will, let it be called
a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object of it. This is a dis
tinction which well deserves to be attended to. In describing implements
of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, that it is made to cut
the reaper s fingers, though, from the construction of the instrument, and
the manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But if you had
occasion to describe instruments of torture or execution, this engine,
you would say, is to extend the sinews ; this to dislocate the joints ; this
to break the bones ; this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain and
misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now, nothing of this sort
is to be found in the works of nature. We never discover a train of con
trivance to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a
system of organization calculated to produce pain and disease; or, in
explaining the parts of the human body, ever said, This is to irritate ;
30
350 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
measures to avert it. The horse and the cow, when shockingly
wounded in the lower extremities, have been observed to move
about, even upon their bloody stumps, and to graze with appa
rent unconcern. The head of a dragon-fly will eat after it is
severed from the body ; and Mr. Kirby saw a cockchafer walk
ing with no show of uneasiness, after a bird had almost wholly
deprived its body of the viscera. The noted saying, that
" the poor beetle which we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies,"
however calculated to extend the range of our sympathies, cer
tainly contains more poetry than truth.
.Enjoyment is the rule, pain is only the exception. - But we
are more concerned now to observe, that in unnumbered in
stances throughout God s creation, the production of happiness
is the sole object of the contrivance. The natural operation
of all the senses, organs, and faculties is a source of pleasure.
this to inflame ; this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys ; this
gland to secrete the humor which forms the gout : if by chance he comes
at a part of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is
useless ;.no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, to an
noy, or to torment. Since, then, God has called forth his consummate
wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the world appears
to be constituted with this design at first ; so long as this constitution is
upholden by him, we must in reason suppose the same design to continue.
" The contemplation of universal nature rather bewilders the mind than
affects it. There is always a bright spot in the prospect, upon which the
eye rests ; a single example, perhaps, by which each man finds himself
more convinced than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part,
to see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the pleasures of very
young children, than in any thing in the world. The pleasures of grown
persons may be reckoned partly of their own procuring ; especially if there
has been any industry or contrivance or pursuit to come at them ; or if they
are founded, like music, painting, etc., upon any qualification of their own
acquiring. But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly pro
vided for it by another, and the benevolence of the provision is so unques
tionable, that every child I see at its sport, affords to my mind a kind of
sensible evidence of the finger of God, and of the disposition which di
rects it."
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 351
It is sweet to see, to hear, to eat, to breathe, to perform any of
the ordinary functions of life, when the body is in its normal
state. There is just enough of uneasiness, recurring at inter
vals, to remind us of the work that must be done in order to
keep the body in this healthy condition. Even the "conscious
ness of living, of continued existence, under common circum
stances, is agreeable ; for thos who are most apt to complain
of the burden of existence would resent the proposal, if you
should offer immediately to rid them of it. It is finely observed
by Abraham Tucker, that our " pleasures spring from steady,
permanent causes, as the vigor of health, the due returns of ap
petite, and calls of nature to exercise or rest ; but pains proceed
from accidents which happen rarely, or diseases which are
either slight or temporary." " Even our troubles come attended
with their alleviations; we have remedies and assistance in
diseases, comfort in distresses, and hope lies ready as a salve for
every sore ; nor are there any in so forlorn a condition, but may
find something to thank God for, if they will look about to seek
it. Epicurus, though disposed to find all the faults he could in
the system of nature, yet made it one among his collection of
Maxims, That pain, if grievous, was short ; if long, it was
light. "
Happiness is so far the normal condition of existence, that
we are hardly conscious of the extent and the perpetual suc
cession of our enjoyments, till something occurs to interrupt
them. Thus, we mourn the loss of friends, though their depart
ure ought to remind us of the length of years through which
we have had the comfort of their society. Most of our sorrows
are of a negative character ; they are not so much positive pains,
as occasional privations of blessings to which we have been long
accustomed. " The rays of happiness," a poet tells us, " like
those of light, are colorless when unbroken." It is no paradox,
then, to say, that pains, when not too frequent or too violent,
contribute directly to increase our conscious enjoyments, which
could not be perpetually renewed without them. An attack of
ilmess, if not too severe, is generally more than compensated
by the pleasure of returning health, that comes with a glow and
352 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
freshness, of which one who has never been an invalid can have
no conception. But these pains, because they are infrequent,
stand out like landmarks in our remembrance, while the wide
expanse of happiness which they diversify is unnoticed or for
gotten. "Probably the happiest portion of our existence, is that
which leaves the least impression on the memory ; and the
happiest man, is he whose life Affords the fewest incidents for
the biographer.
The adaptation of external nature to the mind of man, its
fitness to excite pleasurable emotion, is another proof of the
beneficence of the Creator. The beauty of the vegetable crea
tion, from the tiniest flower .up to the moss-grown oak, its almost
endless variety of form and hue, the delicacy and high finish
of its minutest parts, with the luxuriance and grandeur of its
aggregated masses, are enough to stir the most sluggish soul to
admiration and gratitude. The useful functions of plants in the
economy of nature, their effects, for instance, in purifying the
air and elaborating food for the animal kingdom, might all be
performed without this richness of embellishment. Their beauty
is something superadded, for no conceivable purpose but that of
imparting pleasure. And the ear is gratified as well as the eye.
All natural sounds, the song of birds, the hum of insects, the
breaking of waves on the shore, the murmuring of the wind
amid the branches of a forest, even the sullen plunge of the
cataract, and " the bass of heaven s great organ," are har
monious ; the operations of man alone jar the delicate sense,
" Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps."
"The necessary purposes of hearing," as Paley observes,
" might have been answered without harmony ; of smell, with
out fragrance ; of vision, without beauty. The properties given
to the necessaries of life themselves, by which they contribute
to pleasure as well as preservation, show a further design than
that of giving existence." It is so with the chief articles of
food, eating being certainly necessary for the continuance of
animal life ; but " why add pleasure to the act of eating,
sweetness and relish to food ? why a new and appropriate sense
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 353
for the perception of the pleasure ? That this pleasure depends,
not only upon our being in possession of the sense of taste,
which is different from every other, but upon a particular state
of the organ in which it resides, a felicitous adaptation of the
organ to the object, will be confessed by any one who may hap
pen to have experienced that vitiation of taste which frequently
occurs in fevers, when every taste is irregular, and every one
bad." And if this pleasure forms but a small and rather ignoble
item among the enjoyments of man, let it be remembered that
it is spread over a large portion of the existence of brutes,
especially of the ruminating animals.
Tlie pleasures of taste intended solely to promote happiness.
It matters not at all, for the purposes of this argument, whether
the beauty of forms, colors, sounds, and the like, is something
intrinsic, inherent in the nature of the things themselves, or is
superadded by our modes of perception ; whether, to speak
technically, the beauty be objective or subjective. It is indiffer
ent whether we say, that objects are so constituted as to impart
pleasure to the mind, or that the mind is so constituted as to re
ceive pleasure from them, when our only object is to prove, that
the pleasure itself is actual and abundant. In truth, I can see
no reason why the emotions of beauty and sublimity were added
to our mental faculties, except the mere purpose of enlarging
the sphere of our enjoyments. They do not conduce to the
preservation of life, they are not needed to keep up society, or
to influence our conduct. They often stimulate to action, it is
true ; for when we have once experienced the pleasure that they
afford, we desire its repetition, and seek the objects which
occasion them. But this is only their secondary effect ; and it
is neither certain nor necessary, the stimulus to activity which
is otherwise provided being stronger and quite sufficient. They
are copious sources of delight, which is often vivid and intense,
and is shared in a greater or less degree by all ; this is the only
important part which they play in the economy of our being,
and is the obvious purpose for which they were created.
These pleasures adapted to all ages and conditions. Ac
knowledged differences of taste form no argument against the
30*
354 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
reality and abundance of the pleasure which every person re
ceives from this endowment of his nature, however mistaken
his jiotions may be as to the beauty or sublimity of particular
objects. A child s delignt in a daub of bright colors, or an
unmeaning jingle of sounds, is as real and hearty as the con
noisseur s appreciation of the merits of a Raphael or a Mozart.
Indeed, I count the flexibility of these emotions, the numberless
occasions on which they rise, their adaptation to all ages and
conditions of life, and the rapid changes which cultivation effects
in them, among the perfections of their contrivance, \vhen re
garded as a means of enlarging human happiness. We have
thus a greater range and variety in our pleasures, every stage
in our existence and education having its own peculiar stock of
them, every day contributing some new occasion on which they
are felt, and the effect of familiarity and repetition in dulling the
sense of enjoyment being thus completely obviated. We see
here a reason for that infinite variety in the details of the
material universe, amidst which, as I remarked on a former
occasion, we trace the threads of uniformity and the prevalence
of law. In the glorious mass of foliage which crowns an oak,
it was then observed, there are no two leaves which perfectly
resemble each other ; and I may now add, that there is not one
of them which is not graceful. Objects are seen under differ
ent and very dissimilar aspects, and under all, contribute largely,
if not equally, to the pleasure of the beholder. No two sun
sets are exactly alike, nor is there one mass of white cloud on
the blue sky which is the very pattern of another. The changes
of the seasons are continually altering the appearance of the
landscape ; every month in the year it images a new feeling, but
never lapses into ugliness.
Variety and wide diffusion of these pleasures. I have
dwelt thus long upon the pleasures of taste, because the capac
ity for them, more than any other part of our constitution, seems
to have been created for the sole purpose of increasing the store
of human happiness. Let it not be thought, on account of their
gentle and unobtrusive character, and the trifling value which
we put upon them in moments of excitement, or when we think
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 355
that greater interests are at stake, that they form an insignifi
cant addition to that store* They are diffused, so to speak, over
the whole plain of human existence, making up, by their variety,
their duration, and their constant recurrence, for their lack of
intensity, and the slightness of their hold when the stronger pas
sions assert their power. The pleasures of ambition, pom}),
and power visit us only in lightning flashes, as brief as they arc
vivid ; they are often purchased, also, at a heavy sacrifice ; they
are crossed by the pains of failure and disappointment ; and eve:i
the happiness which they are thought to constitute, is more
properly ascribed to the toil and effort which we expend in their
pursuit. But the enjoyments procured by the faculty of taste
are unmingled with losses and sacrifices, and, for the most part,
are unbought. Thety come to cheer the intervals of exertion,
and to speed the long hours which are not filled with grave
cares or enterprises of great pith and moment. They form the
relaxation alike of the monarch on his throne and of the peas
ant in his hut ; the social instinct prompts each to seek com
panionship,, and the conversation which turns not upon business
or causes of anxiety, is prolonged merely for pleasure into an
idle chat. A company of laborers, talking around the fire after
the day s work is ended, experience this delight quite as strongly
as the crowd which fills the apartments of the fashionable and
the learned. " It is a happy world after all." In spite of all
the labors, cares, and troubles of life, we still spend a con
siderable portion of our time merely in amusing ourselves.
The capacity of happiness adapted to all beings and all con
ditions of life. The wide diffusion of these simple pleasures
suggests another arrangement in nature,, which affords still
stronger proof of the benevolence of the Deity ; I mean the
adaptation of the capacity of happiness to all orders of being
and to all conditions of life. Considered in reference to its
sources and occasions, happiness is not an absolute, but. a rela
tive term. When we say, that any creature is as happy as it is
capable of being, we express its perfect enjoyment ; the low-
ness of the capacity does not lessen this perfection. The causes
and nature of the enjoyment may make it very unsuitable for a
356
THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
being of a different order, or for one of the same order, but of
different pursuits and tastes. Still, it is real and perfect, and in
this argument, therefore, is entitled to just as much weight as
pleasure of a higher character. But we are all prone to erect
our own idea,s upon this subject into an absolute standard, and
to pity all who do not come up to our peculiar notions of happi
ness; we do not always remember, that, very likely, the ob
jects of our compassion are, at the same moment, pitying us.
This propensity leads us greatly to overrate the amount of
misery that there is in the world, when, if we would but reflect
upon it, the propensity itself is an additional indication of the
goodness of God ; each individual supposes that his own happi
ness is the highest possible happiness, aud his enjoyment is
naturally enhanced by this belief. Ideas of what constitute
pleasure and pain vary more widely than we are apt to imagine,
especially if we include the lower animals in the survey. To
take the strongest instance that I can think of; the sight of
a wild beast eagerly tearing and devouring the prey that it has
just seized, makes us shudder ; yet the animal is then experienc
ing the keenest enjoyment that it is capable of, and if, as is
generally the case, the prey is instantly killed by its captor, so
that there is little or no suffering on either side, the spectacle,
apart from its effect on our involuntary sympathies, ought rather
to make us rejoice. We look upon the condition of a tribe
of savages with similar feelings, and, so far as mere happi
ness is concerned, we almost equally misjudge the case. Pity
them, if you will, for not being able to appreciate your refined
and elevated pleasures, but for nothing else, since they are not
only unconscious of suffering, but, for most of the time, they
are enjoying themselves., We are shocked by the ignorance of
great multitudes of men, and the feeling is a proper one ir*
regard to their future, as the want of instruction frequently
leads to crime ; but in connection with our present topic, we
ought to remember that ignorance is often bliss. Information
on many points would only breed discontent.
Tucker on the distribution of happiness. These considera
tions seem to me to have so much weight, that I cannot regard
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 357
Abraham Tucker s animated picture of the distribution of hap
piness as at all exaggerated. " We should cease," he says, " to
measure others satisfaction by our own standard, and to think
nothing desirable to them which we would not choose for our
selves ; we shall then discern a variety of tastes adapted to the
several conditions wherein men are placed, and things which
are irksome at first, becoming pleasant by custom. We may see
that children have their plays ; the vulgar their amusements,
coarse jokes, and May-games ; even folly does not exclude
pleasure, nor poverty banish contentment. There is as much
mirth in the kitchen as the parlor, and as great diversion in a
country fair or a cricket-match, as at a card assembly or a
ridotto. The cobbler whistles at his stall; the dairy-maid
sings while she is milking ; the ploughman munches his mouldy
crusts with as good a relish as the rich man eats his dainties
with, for he has that best of sauces, hunger, to season his
victuals. Labor purifies the blood, invigorates the limbs,
strengthens the digestion, insures quiet sleep, and renders the
body proof against changes and inclemencies of weather; all
which are considerable articles in the enjoyment of life, nor can
their loss be compensated by any enjoyment of family, fortune,
learning, and politeness. Nor is the lowest herdsman incapable
of that sincerest of pleasures, the consciousness of acting right ;
for rectitude does not consist in extensiveness of knowledge, but
in doing the best according \o the lights afforded ; and many
artisans, servants, and laborers, find as much satisfaction in ful
filling the duties of their station, as the philosopher in his re
searches into nature. Nor need we stop at the human species ;
for the brute creation, too, exhibits scenes agreeable for the
good-natured man to look upon ; he may rejoice to see the cat
tle sporting in the fields, to hear the birds singing and chirping
out their joys, to behold the swallow building nests to hatch her
young, the ant laying in stores of provision for her future ac
commodation, the flies, in a summer evening, dancing together
in wanton mazes, the little pucerons in water frisking nimbly
about, as if delighted with their existence. Whoever has a
heart to enjoy such contemplations, will be apt to pursue them
358 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
until he has satisfied himself, that there is a much greater quan
tity of enjoyment than suffering upon earth."
Why there is no absolute standard of happiness. Suppose
that the belief which every individual is prone to entertain on
this subject, were well founded ; suppose that there were an
absolute standard of happiness, as there is of ^irtue. Is it not
obvious, in the first case, that all the lower orders of being, dif
fering fundamentally in their endowments and constitutions
from man, would be as incapable of enjoyment as they now are
of rectitude ? Deprived of all access to refined and elevated
pleasures by the coarseness of their organization, and the ruder
delights of eating and mere bodily activity being struck out
of the scale, what would remain to them but the life (if we
may call it by that name) of a machine, or, in other words,
mere senselessness and the incapacity either of joy or woe ?
Again, unless all the differences of character and variety of tal
ents and occupations, which now distinguish men from each
other, were done away, the establishment in their minds of but
one standard of happiness would deprive all but an insignificant
fraction of their number of any experience of pleasure. If this
standard were accommodated to man s character, the child
could not rise to it; if it were suited only to the cultivated
mind, the savage would have no compensation for the evils of
his lot ; if it had regard to difference of sex, one half of the
human family would be joyless. If it were made known to all,
in the absoluteness of its conditions, just as the standard of rec
titude is, even the few could have but partial enjoyment ; for
perfection in happiness would be as unattainable as perfection
in morals. There must be such a standard, for absolute happi
ness alone can express the condition of an omnipotent and om
niscient Being ; but in his mercy, it is not revealed to man in
this stage of existence, nor to any of the creatures which He
has made. Yet such a revelation would be consistent with mere
justice ; for the pleasures of virtue alone would satisfy all the
requisitions of the moral sense. Men might be made happy
only in proportion as they were good. Now, indeed, their
pleasures are enhanced by the consciousness of rectitude ; but
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 359
they are not wholly destroyed by the recollection of sin. God
sendeth his rain alike on the just and the unjust, his govern
ment being one not merely of absolute rectitude, but of perfect
love.
The kind affections prove the benevolence of God, I shall al
lude to but one other proof of the benevolence of God, and
that is, the endowment of the mind with benevolent affections,
care being thus shown for the happiness of all, by rendering
men the guardians and partakers of the happiness of each
other. We are not left in this respect to the monitions of
conscience alone, though the general obligation to relieve the
distressed and to do good to all is recognized, and even strongly
inculcated, by that faculty. But the social and kind affections
also, which stand foremost among our primary impulses, and
which are prompt to act before reason can come into play or
the voice of conscience be heard, are so many ever-watchful
sentinels to increase the jys and lessen the sorrows of our
mortal lot. So quick and powerful is their operation, that the
action which proceeds from them seems involuntary. The sight
of distress prompts an instant attempt to relieve it, no matter
who may be the sufferer. Imminent peril hanging over the
head of another, causes a shuddering in all our limbs, as if our
own lives were menaced ; and often the sharp cry of warning
is uttered, before reason can teach us that the distance is too
great for the voice to be heard. We rejoice in the happiness
of others, though the difference of taste, situation, or character
makes their standard of enjoyment the farthest possible from
our own. The aged are always the most ready to encourage
the sports of childhood, to join in the shout that follows their
success, and to please the infant with a rattle or a straw. The
affections of kindred are indestructible while life and sense
remain ; they often overbear all regard for our own comfort,
and a painful death becomes a pleasant one, if suffered for their
sake. Disinterestedness is so prominent a trait in them, that
even the suggestion of their being alloyed by the hope of com
pensation is resented as an affront. They often rise to enthusi
asm, so as to need the curb of reflection and a sense of duty to
THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
keep them from a harmful excess. So exquisite is the pleasiire
of their indulgence, and so easily are they brought into play,
that, when real occasions to call them forth are wanting, we seek
fictitious ones, and grieve over the sorrows, or sympathize in the
joys, of imaginary beings. What direct interest has the spec
tator at the theatre, or the reader of a romance, in the char
acters represented, his sympathy with whom is attested by his
emotion and his tears ?
" What s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her ? "
We can explain this effect only by admitting, that our affec
tions and sympathies are more speedy and overpowering than
the action of the intellect, which would teach us, if it had time
or could gain an audience, that we were weeping over shadows
and airy fancies.
Distribution of the affections. -Consider, now, the human
mind, figuratively, with its complex and delicate network of
faculties and springs of action, as a machine or a contrivance,
the problem being, how to constitute it so as to take the greatest
possible security for the happiness of the race. What more
effectual means could be devised for this end, than to endow
men first with the social or gregarious instinct, which keeps
them always near to each other, and then to knit their hearts
together with so many of these kindly affections, that not a
chord of joy or sorrow can be touched in one, without finding
an instant response in many others ? Observe, too, how these
affections are distributed in regard to their objects, the strongest
always uniting those who live nearest and most familiarly with
each other, and who consequently stand most in need of mutual
aid, the assistance that is most readily offered being thus also
always the nearest at hand ; while the other feelings weaken,
indeed, as they expand, but continually take in a larger number,
till that of general benevolence includes the whole human race.
The love, for instance, which surpasses all others, is that of a
mother for her child, these two being for months and years n>
separable, and the latter being wholly dependent on another s
care.
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 361
Indeed, the bodily constitution of the human infant, when
compared with that of the young of other animals, shows that it
is trusted for protection and support almost exclusively to ma
ternal affection ; and the trust is not in vain. " One animal/
says Mr. Stewart, " is armed with the horn, another with the
tusk, a third with the paw ; most of them are covered with furs,
or with skins of a sufficient thickness to protect them from the
inclemencies of the seasons ; and all of them are directed by
instinct in what manner they may choose or construct the most
convenient habitation for securing themselves from danger, and
for rearing their offspring. The human infant alone enters the
world naked and unarmed ; exposed without a covering to the
fury of the elements ; surrounded with enemies who far surpass
him in strength or agility ; and totally ignorant in what way
he is to procure the comforts or even the necessaries of life."
A being formed for tears, says Pliny, but soon to exercise do
minion over all the other creatures that God has made ;
Flens animal, cceteris imperaturum.
That it is the living constantly together, and not some hidden
virtue in mere kindred blood, which forms the groundwork of
the family affections, seems to me to be proved by the fact, that
long separation greatly weakens these natural ties, while the
factitious unions of marriage and friendship put others in their
place which are equally effective. Wherever we are placed,
then, however far our journeyings may be, these kindly feelings
spring up around us in a natural growth, the Divinely appointed
guardians of our happiness ; a removal separates us from one
class of them, but the Toss is soon repaired by others. It is
hardly possible for man to occupy a position so isolated, that he
shall not be joined by one or more of these peculiar bonds to a
portion of his fellows, to whom he may look for especial sym
pathy, consolation, and aid. Even if all others should drop
away, the last and most comprehensive of all, which must
remain, the tie of a common origin and a common nature, that
makes a brotherhood of all mankind, is one of no mean force.
When a fit occasion arises, its strength is manifested. If, for
instance, the cry of famine or pestilence is heard, though it
31
362 THE GOODNESS OP GOD.
comes from the uttermost isles of the sea, from a people with
whom we have no relationship or common interest, the sympa
thies of all are excited, and the means of relief, if possible, are
sent. The same feeling, trained into a custom and guarded by
religious sanctions, protects the wandering stranger among the
robber tribes of the desert ; the head even of the fugitive from
justice is sacred, when he has once tasted of the salt at the
chieftain s board. The rights of hospitality are more or less
respected all over the globe, merely from a recognition of the
common humanity of the host and the guest.
The land affections support each other. Observe, also, how
these feelings intertwine and support each other. Compassion
is met by gratitude, the latter often rising into heroism, and the
charge of a want of it, next to the accusation of falsehood,
being the bitterest reproach that can be uttered. An inter
change of kind offices strengthens the benevolent purposes of
either party. Maternal love is repaid by filial affection, friend
ship by its like, and every kindly emotion has its counterpart
and reward in the mind of him who is its object. It is justly
observed by Mr. Stewart, that " the peculiar sentiment of appro
bation with which we regard the virtue of beneficence in others,
and the peculiar satisfaction with which we reflect on such of
our actions as have contributed to the happiness of mankind, to
which we may add the exquisite pleasure accompanying the
exercise of all the kind affections, naturally lead us to consider
benevolence or goodness as the supreme attribute of God. It
is difficult, indeed, to conceive what other motive could have
induced a Being, completely and independently happy, to call
his creatures into existence." Indeed, the experience of our
own day has shown, that general philanthropy can become a
profession and a fascinating pursuit. There is so much luxury
in the indulgence of feelings which point to the general im
provement and moral elevation of the race, that they have
sometimes thrown off the yoke of reason and justice, to which
they are rightfully subject. We respect or reverence men for
the sterner virtues which they exhibit, but we love them for
their benevolence, although the objects of their kindness are
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 363
persons for whom we entertain no peculiar esteem. The mem
ory of John Howard, for instance, is as sacred to us as if we
had personally known, esteemed, and loved every one of the
wretched beings to the improvement of whose lot Ijis life was
devoted. Considering, then, how much our daily comforts and
enjoyments depend upon our fellow beings, especially upon
those with whom we constantly associate, it may well be doubted,
whether any other arrangement of Providence to secure our
happiness is so effectual, as that which animates us all with the
spirit of active love and kindness towards each other.
Even the selfishness of men contributes to the general wel
fare. Still further ; as men are dependent upon their fellow
beings not merely for sympathy and additional means of enjoy
ment, but for necessaries for the active cooperation without
which life could not be supported not only are mutual kindly
affections implanted in them, but their interests are so inter
woven, that even the cupidity and selfishness of individuals are
made to conduce to the general good. What may be called the
economical laws of human nature, (the principles of Political
Economy,) in their general effects upon the well-being of society,
manifest the contrivance, wisdom, and beneficence of the Deity
just as clearly, as do the marvellous arrangements of the mate
rial universe, or the natural means provided for the enforcement
of the moral law and the punishment of crime. The lowest
passions of mankind, ostentation and ambition, petty rivalry, the
love of saving and the love of gain, while they bring their own
penalty upon the individual who indulges them, are still over
ruled for good in their operation upon the interests of society ;
nay, they are made the most efficient means of guarding it
from harm and advancing its welfare. In the vast round of
employments in civilized society, there is hardly one in which a
person can profitably exert himself, without at the same time
profiting the community in which he lives, and lending aid to
thousands of human beings whom he never saw. We are all
servants of one another without wishing it, and even without
knowing it ; we are all cooperating with each other as busily
and effectively as the bees in a hive, and most of us with as
364 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
little perception as the bees have, that each individual effort is
essential to the common defence and general prosperity. " This
dependence and combination," says McCulloch, " is not found
only or principally in the mechanical employments ; it extends
to the labors of the head as well as those of the hands, and per
vades and binds together all classes and degrees of society."
" The great Author of nature," says Barrow, (second sermon
on Industry,) " hath so distributed the ranks and offices of men,
in order to mutual benefit and comfort, that one man should
plough, another thrash, another grind, another labor at the forge,
another knit or weave, another sail, another trade, another su
pervise all these, laboring to keep them all in order and peace ;
that one should work with his hands and feet, another with his
head and tongue ; all conspiring to one common end, the wel
fare of the whole, and the supply of what is useful to each par
ticular member ; every man so reciprocally obliging and being
obliged, the prince being obliged to the husbandman for his
bread, to the weaver for his clothes, to the mason for his palace,
to the smith for his sword ; those being all obliged to him for
his vigilant care in protecting them, for their security in pursu
ing the work, and enjoying the fruit of their industry.* "
* For a move specific illustration of this truth, I borrow a passage from
Adam Smith. \
" The interests of the inland dealer [in corn,] and that of the great body
of the people, how opposite soever they may at first sight appear, are,
even in years of the greatest scarcity, exactly the same. It is his interest
to raise the price of his corn as high as the real scarcity of the season re
quires, and it can never be his interest to raise it higher. By raising the
price, he discourages the consumption, and puts everybody, more or less,
but particularly the inferior ranks of people, upon thrift and good man
agement. If, by raising it too high, he discourages the consumption so
much that the supply of the season is likely to go beyond the consumption
of the season, and to last for some time after the next crop begins to come
in, he runs the hazard, not only of losing a considerable part of his corn by
natural causes, but of being obliged to sell what remains of it for much
less than what he might have had for it several months before. If, by not
raising the price high enough, he discourages the consumption so little,
that the supply of the season is likely to fall short of the consumption of
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 365
Broad conclusions from this argument. It is unnecessary
to carry these illustrations any further, though any exposition
of this broad theme, the benevolence of God as displayed in
the material and moral universe, must necessarily seem imper
fect. It is important to mark the breadth of the conclusion at
which we have now arrived. It is proved, not only that good
predominates to a vast extent, but that, secondary only to the
support and enforcement of the law of righfc the production of
happiness is the chief purpose in the creation and government
of the world. Strike out the pains which were intended to vin
dicate the law of primary obligation, and to show that virtue was
of more importance than mere enjoyment, and happiness is seen
to be the normal condition of mankind, happiness which was
contrived, and which is the sole object of the contrivance,
happiness which fills up so large a portion of the hours of ex
istence, that hardship and suffering are restricted in compari
son to minutes. Evil exists, undoubtedly ; but it is the excep
tion, and not the rule. It is never designed for its own sake ;
it is nowhere the ultimate object of the contrivance.
No difficulty appears till the idea of infinity is brought in.
There is, then, sufficient, even abundant, proof of the benevo
lence of the Creator. And this benevolence is not scanty or
the season, he not only loses a part of the profit which he might otherwise
have made, but he exposes the people to suffer before the end of the sea
son, instead of the hardships of a dearth, the dreadful horrors of a famine.
It is the interest of *the people that their daily, weekly, and monthly con
sumption should be proportioned as exactly as possible to the supply of
the season. The interest of the inland corn dealer is the same. By sup
plying them, as nearly as he can judge, in this proportion, he is likely to
sell all his corn for the highest price, and with the greatest profit; and his
knowledge of the state of the crop, and of his daily, weekly, and monthly
sales, enables him to judge, with more or less accuracy, how far they really
are supplied in this manner. Without intending the interest of the people,
he is necessarily led, by a regard to his own interest, to treat them, even
in years of scarcity, pretty much in the same manner as the prudent mas
ter of a vessel is sometimes obliged to treat his crew. When he foresees
that provisions are likely to run short, he puts them upon short allowance."
Smith s Wealth of Nations, p. 233.
31*
366 THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
parsimonious in its character ; its arrangements are vast, impos
ing, commensurate with the scale on which the universe is
made. The whole difficulty which is presented to us, in the
problem respecting the origin and continuance of evil, relates to
the infinity of Divine benevolence. That there is some evil in
the world, is an apparent indication that the deity is not infi
nitely benevolent; but it is no indication whatever that he is
not benevolent at all. It affords no presumption even against
the doctrine that he is largely benevolent, bountiful and gra
cious to man, far beyond the measure of his absolute wants or
rightful claims. This conclusion, therefore, that God wishes
the happiness, not the misery, of his creatures, and has made
rich provision to this end, remains to us unshaken, whatever
may be our success in the subsequent part of the inquiry.
I insist strongly upon this point, because the nature of the
difficulty occasioned by the presence of any evil in the world
has been greatly misunderstood. Nearly all writers upon the
subject have argued the matter, as if the existence of sin and
suffering in any degree, however small, or however overbal
anced by virtue and happiness, afforded a presumption that the
Deity was not benevolent at all, nay, that he was malevolent,
that he intended the misery of his creatures- But not so. It
is one thing to prove that God is wise, powerful, and good ; and
another and quite a different thing, to prove that he is infinitely
wise, infinitely powerful, and infinitely good. The difference
between these two lines of proof has sometimes (and very prop
erly) been made a topic for discussion by itself; the infinity of
the Divine attributes is to be made out by reasoning somewhat
different from that which establishes the reality of the attributes
themselves. Infinity is a metaphysical idea ; our notion of it
is confessedly inadequate. We have but a negative idea of it ;
it implies that certain qualities exist in an unknown perfection.
To prove that the attributes are infinite, then, may be desirable
for philosophical purposes, for the completeness of theory, and
for rounding out with entireness a system of theology ; but it is
not essential either for religious faith or practice. For these
latter purposes, it is enough to show that the qualities exist
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 367
unlimited by the attributes of any other known being or thing,
and in a degree which challenges our wonder and adoration.
This has been already done, and religious faith, properly so
called, is sufficiently vindicated. It is proved that God exists,
and that he governs the world in righteousness and with mercy,
at once upholding the law which he has revealed through the
conscience, and showing by manifold provisions his care for the
happiness of his creatures.
Our idea of infinity necessarily inadequate. It is observ
able, in the next place, that there are difficulties in the very
conception of infinite goodness united with infinite power, which
ought to warn us that the imperfection, after all, is more apt to
be in our limited modes of thought, than in 1 the constituted
nature of things. I borrow on this point the very clear and
precise statement of Abraham Tucker.
" God," he observes, " is completely happy in himself, nor can
his happiness receive increase or diminution from any thing
befalling his creatures ; wherefore his goodness is pure, disin
terested bounty, without any return of joy or satisfaction to
himself. Therefore it is no wonder we have imperfect notions
of a quality whereof we have no experience in our own nature ;
for we know of no other love than inclination, which prompts us
to gratify it in the same manner as our other inclinations. In
the next place, let us examine our idea of infinite goodness
taken in the abstract, before we inquire whether God be good
or no, and we shall find it incompatible with that of infinite
power ; for infinite goodness, according to our apprehension, re
quires that it should exhaust omnipotence, that it should give
capacities of enjoyment, and confer blessings, until there were no
more to be conferred; fcut our idea of omnipotence requires
that it should be inexhaustible, that nothing should limit its
operations so that it could do no more than it has done. There
fore it is much easier to conceive of an imperfect creature com
pletely good, than of a perfect being ; for if he pursues invari
ably all opportunities of doing good to the utmost of his power
and knowledge, he deserves that character ; and if there are any
injuries sustained which he cannot redress, any distress unre-
36& THE GOODNESS OP GOD.
lieved which he knows not of, his weakness and ignorance are a
full excuse for his omission. But where there is almighty
power, unlimited knowledge, and perfect wisdom, we can neither
conceive that infinite goodness should extend to the utmost
bounds of that which has no bounds, nor yet that it should stop
until it can proceed no further. Since, then, we find our under
standing incapable of comprehending infinite goodness joined
with infinite power, we need not be surprised at finding our
thoughts perplexed concerning them ; for no other can be ex
pected in matters above our reach ; and we may presume the
obscurity rises from something wrong in our ideas, not from
any inconsistencies in the subjects themselves." In short, here
as elsewhere, whenever we apply a purely metaphysical idea to
matters-of-fact, we end in a contradiction or an absurdity.
The. proof of the Divine benevolence is complete in itself.
You will not understand me, by these remarks, as holding forth
the opinion, that the problem respecting the origin of evil is
insoluble, or as evading the difficulty of solving it. On the
contrary, I believe, and I shall attempt to show, that all events
are ordered for the best, and that the supposed evils which we
suffer are parts of a great system conducted by almighty power^
under the direction of unlimited wisdom and goodness. I adopt
the opinion, maintained in all ages by the best and wisest philoso
phers, that the creation of beings endowed with freewill, and
consequently liable to moral delinquency, and the government
of the world by general laws, from which occasional supposed
evils must result, furnish no solid objection to the perfection of
the universe. This, I admit, is a system of optimism ; but it is
not the optimism of Leibnitz, grounded upon a denial of man s
free agency, and as such justly ridiculed by Voltaire. And the
general doctrine of the benevolence of God, is in nowise ac
countable for, or dependent upon, the sufficiency of the argument
in defence of this metaphysical system. That doctrine rests
upon its own proofs, which are abundant, undisputed, and irre
fragable. This question respecting the presence of any evil in
the world, is a collateral affair, which must be considered, in
deed, before we can complete a scheme of theology, and about
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 369
which theologians and metaphysicians may differ. But the re
ligious man has no concern with it, and his faith, whether derived
from the teachings of nature, or from express revelation, is not
burdened with its doubts and intricacies. It is enough for him,
that he can trace everywhere the footprints of a wise, just, and
benevolent Ruler of the universe.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
Summary of the last chapter. The argument in the last
chapter for the benevolence of God, was not founded upon
metaphysical reasoning, or upon any consideration a priori of
the Divine nature, but upon observation and the results of ex
perience. It is because human life, on the whole, is a happy
one, because its pleasures far exceed its pains, and because
these pleasures were evidently designed, while the pains are
only incidental or secondary to some great object, that we are
enabled to pronounce with confidence, that the Deity wishes the
happiness of his creatures. The sufferings which are the im
mediate consequence and punishment of vice, it was remarked,
are properly left out of the account, since these evince the
goodness of God no less than the happiness resulting from vir
tue, the object in both cases being to advance man s highest
interests by the improvement of his moral character ; just so the
affectionate parent rewards the obedience and punishes the
faults of his child, love equally constraining him. to adopt either
course. Now, these sufferings constitute so large a portion of
the misery that is in the world, that, when they are deducted,
the balance inclines altogether on the side of happiness. Our
enjoyments, also, proceed from steady and permanent causes ;
370 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
the performance of all the ordinary functions of life, when the
body is in its normal state, being a source of pleasure. Sick
ness is an accident and an exception ; health is the intended and
usual condition.
The pleasures of taste arise from an adaptation of external
nature to the mind of man, which must have had for its sole
purpose the increase of our happiness ; and these pleasures are
so various, recur so frequently, and occupy so many hours of
our existence, as to give a smiling aspect to the whole. Happi
ness, it was also observed, is accommodated to all beings and
conditions ; there is no absolute standard of it, which would
necessarily limit its distribution. The pleasures of the child,
the savage, and the brute, are as real and hearty, as complete in
their way, as those of the mature and cultivated mind. All
have the means of enjoyment provided for them, suited to their
peculiar sphere, adapted to their organizations and their tastes.
Lastly, the endowment of the mind with the benevolent affec
tions, is a most effectual security for our happiness, by making
us all the guardians of the happiness of each other. It is not
only the duty, but one of the primitive impulses, of man, acting
spontaneously, and for the time irrationally, to aid, protect, and
sympathize with his neighbor. These affections profit not only
the objects of them, but him who cherishes them ; the luxury
of their indulgence being so great, that when real occasions to
call them forth are wanting, we seek fictitious ones, and spend
them upon imaginary beings.
The occasional presence of evil does not disprove the goodness
of God. These facts, I observed, show a vast predominance
of happiness in our condition, and so, notwithstanding the oc
casional presence of evil, amply vindicate the benevolence of
the Creator. What remains is a point of curiosity and theory,
rather than of substantive importance, for the religious inquirer
Insist as we may upon the existence of sin and suffering in the
world, these, in the amount in which they are visible to us, do
not disprove, do not even cast a doubt upon, the goodness of
God ; they affect only the doctrine of the infinity of his benev
olence, a subject with which we, his finite creatures, with our
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 371
limited intelligence, have little or no concern. It is probable^
it is even certain, that the whole difficulty consists, not in the
nature of the facts themselves, but in the imperfect comprehen
sion of our minds, which cannot unite the conceptions of in
finite power and infinite goodness without stumbling upon a
contradiction and an absurdity. After this explanation, we
approach the deep and dark problem of the origin of evil with
out anxiety.
Proper statement of the question. The question in its sim
plest form is, How can there be any evil in the world, if it was
created and is governed by an all-powerful and all-gracious
God ? The difficulty disappears, and the problem is solved, if
we can prove that the existence of any amount, however small,
of sin and suffering, is compatible with a belief in the omnipo
tence and infinite benevolence of the Deity ; for, in the first
place, it was shown in the last chapter, that the amount is ac
tually small, when compared with the happiness and virtue for
which provision is made, and which are really experienced or
exercised ; and, secondly, if any evil, however slight, can be
satisfactorily accounted for, without bringing the infinite power
and goodness of God into doubt, the question respecting the mag
nitude of this necessary evil can be determined by infinite wisdom
alone. It is not competent for us to settle this question ; nor is
it desirable, for the answer to it does not at all affect our belief
in the moral attributes of the Supreme Being, and is obviously
beyond the reach of the human faculties. We might as well
assume to determine how many stars there ought to be in the
sky, as to say how much or how little of any quality or thing
ought to be permitted under God s government, when we have
once clearly seen that its presence in some degree is essential.
Only an Alphonso of Castile could be guilty of such folly. He
alone who knows the whole, and governs the whole, of the uni
verse of Avhich we form but an infinitesimal part, our time in
it being but a moment, and our space a dot, can tell how
much is essential, when we know that some is essential. Our
ideas of quantity and magnitude are wholly relative ; however
great the sum may appear to us, no one can affirm, that, in4he
372 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
eye of Infinite Wisdom, it is not a minimum. Nay, after the
proofs already advanced of the Divine benevolence, the pre
sumption is inevitable, that it is a minimum.
Exaggerated statements of the amount of evil in the world.
I place stress upon this point, because, both by the friends and
the opponents of religion, the problem respecting the origin of
evil has been unnecessarily darkened and rendered formidable
by declamatory and exaggerated statements of the amount of
sin and woe which sadden the annals of mankind. Thus, Bayle,
the most acute and sarcastic of modern infidels, after quoting
Cicero s pathetic account of his voyage home from Asia, at one
point in which he beheld around him the deserted ruins of so
many cities, once renowned for their power and splendor, goes
on to say, " History is, properly speaking, only a record of
the crimes and the misfortunes of the human race If
man is the creation of a single being, who is supremely good,
supremely holy, and supremely powerful, how can he be ex
posed to disease, to cold, to heat, to hunger, to thirst, to pain, to
sorrow ? How can he have so many wicked inclinations ?
How can he commit so many crimes ? Can infinite holiness
create a wicked being ? Can infinite goodness create an un
happy being ? Will not sovereign power, joined with infinite
benevolence, overwhelm its creature with benefits, and remove
far from him all that can offend or sadden ? "
The following picture, by Abraham Tucker, though well in
tended, is quite as exaggerated and unnecessary. " That there
are innumerable evils," he says, " the phenomena of nature suf
ficiently assures us : storms and tempests, earthquakes and in
undations, lay fields and cities desolate with all their produce
and inhabitants ; blighting winds and pestilential vapors wither
up and destroy, ravenous beasts devour, villains assassinate,
thieves break through and steal, tyrants oppress, diseases tor
ment, cross accidents vex, old age debilitates, our necessary em
ployments fatigue, our wants interfere, our very pleasures cloy,
and man is born to sorrow as the sparks fly upward. We are
necessitated to destroy vermin that would overrun us, to slay
our fellow-creatures for our sustenance, to weary them out with
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 373
toil and labor for our uses, to press one another into wars and
sea-services for our preservation. Nay, evil is so interwoven
into our nature, that the business of mankind would stagnate
without it ; most of our cares being employed in delivering our
selves from troubles we lie under, or warding off those that
threaten."
The fallacy of these, sweeping statements exposed. It is hardly
necessary to say, that such statements as these are one-sided
and exaggerated, and that the general impression which they
leave on the mind is wholly unfounded. The great but covert
fallacy in this general impression, is, that the whole human race
is regarded but as one individual, whose existence extends
through all ages and over all parts of the earth, so that his sin
gle experience comprises all the woes and crimes which are ac
tually distributed among countless millions of beings. Now it
is the veriest truism to say, that happiness or misery is expe
rienced only by individuals ; that there is no such thing as the
suffering of the race in general ; that any one man would be
considered as marked out for sorrow, as a special object of com
passion, Who should be afflicted by any one of the great evils
above mentioned ; that it is impossible, in the nature of things,
for any one to suffer from all of them ; and that the occurrence
even of one would occupy but a small portion of the experience
of an individual, all the rest of which might be almost unmin-
gled enjoyment. How m^ny of those who read this page have
been plagued by famines, inundations, earthquakes, the assas
sination of friends, robbery, ravenous beasts, tyranny, the neces
sity of slaying a fellow-creature for sustenance, or the like ?
And if, which is very improbable, there be an individual who
has experienced one of these calamities, how small a portion of
his whole existence has been immediately saddened by the event,
and how many compensating hours has he had of amusement,
indifference, or positive happiness? How idle is it, then, to
make out a catalogue of all the calamities and crimes of which
there is any mention in history, and to speak of human life as
vexed by them, thus conveying the impression, though it is not -.-
a logical inference, that it is the life of an individual which is
32
374 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
thus spoken of ! For when happiness or misery is the topi,, iff
discussion, if it be not an individual existence that is referred to,
this enumeration, this adding of one woe to another, and one
crime to another, is meaningless and impertinent. To take a
particular instance, it was a misfortune and a wrong that
Socrates should drink the hemlock. But how many, with the
same virtues and the same genius, have suffered the same fate
as the Grecian sage ? and how great or * how long was this suf
fering even for him, when compared with the many and bright
hours of instruction and happiness which constituted the re
mainder of his individual experience ? If we were wise, we
should thank God that Socrates lived and taught as he did ?
rather than grieve or murmur because he died a felon s death.
The real problem stated as a dilemma. Putting aside, then 7
these rhetorical exaggerations of human wretchedness, we come
to the real problem, how to reconcile the presence of any
pain or wrong, however slight, with the infinite power and good
ness of the Governor of all things. The whole difficulty here
is well stated in the form of a dilemma by Lactantius, who pro
fesses to have taken it directly from Epicurus, into whose phi
losophy it entered as a proof of his doctrine, that the Deity ex
isted indeed, but that he exercised no oversight or government
of the affairs of this world. " The Deity," he says, " is either
willing to take away all evil, but is not able to do so, in which
case he is not omnipotent ; or he is able to remove the evil, but
is not willing, in which case, he is not benevolent ; or he is
neither willing nor able, which is a denial of the Divine perfec
tions ; or he is both able and willing to do away with the evil,
and yet it exists/ Now it is obvious, in the first place, that
this dilemma is made to cover too much ground ; for while in
ability to remove the evil is rightly held to disprove the infinite
power of God, his unwillingness to remove it is held to prove,
not that his benevolence is imperfect, which would be a just
conclusion, but that he is not benevolent at all, or rather that he
is malignant, the evil being intentional, and not incidental.
The facts, certainly, support no such conclusion. We may sup
pose, if we will, that the Deity has a general intention to pro-
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 375
vide for the happiness of his creatures, and, in the long run, or
as a general rule, has taken measures to secure it ; but that he
is not watchful in every case, and has not provided for all
emergencies, thinking it best, perhaps, that, on a few occasions,
slight evils should be endured. Such is often the conduct of an
earthly parent, who would never be accused of a want of love
for his offspring. But this is not general enough to be consid
ered as a satisfactory solution of the problem, nor do I propose
it as such.
Metaphysical impossibilities do not disprove omnipotence.
We shall gain a clearer idea of the true purport of the question,
by examining more closely the meaning of the words employed.
Omnipotence and benevolence are apparently very simple and
very comprehensive terms, though few are more vaguely used.
The former means a power to do every thing ; but this does not
include the ability to do two contradictory things at the same
moment, or to accomplish any metaphysical impossibility. Thus,
the Deity cannot cause two and two to make five, nor place
two hills near each other without leaving a valley between them.
The impossibility in such cases does not argue a defect of power,
but an absurdity in the statement of the case to which the power
is to be applied. A statement which involves a contradiction
in terms does not express a limitation of ability, because, in truth,
it expresses nothing at all ; the affirmation and the denial, ut
tered in the same breath, cancel each other, and no meaning
remains. All metaphysical impossibilities can be reduced to
the formula, that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not
to be at the same moment, as this would be an absurdity, that
is, an absurd or meaningless statement. Thus, virtue cannot
exist without free agency, because a free choice between good
and evil is involved in the idea of virtue, so that the proposition
means no more than this, that what contains freedom cannot
be without freedom. Compulsion is a denial of freedom ; there
fore, the phrase compulsory virtue does not so much express an
impossibility, as an absurdity; it is nonsense. We cannot
choose between good and evil, unless good and evil are both
placed before us, that is, unless we know what these words
376 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
mean ; and we cannot express our choice in action, unless we
are able to act, that is, unless we have the, power of doing either
good or evil. In the dilemma quoted from Epicurus, a contra
diction in terms is held to prove a defect of power, or to dis
prove Omnipotence ; the dilemma, therefore, is a mere logical
puzzle, like the celebrated one of Achilles and the tortoise.
The only difficulty is, how to lay bare the fallacy, or expose the
contradiction, since it is very skilfully covered up by the lan
guage employed.
Outward acts do not disprove benevolent intentions. The
meaning of benevolence appears simple enough ; but it is often
jdifficult to tell whether a certain act was or was not prompted
Iby kind intentions. Strictly speaking, of course, benevolence is
a quality of mind, that is, of will (bene volo) or inten
tion, not of outward conduct. An action is said to be benev
olent only by a metaphor ; it is so called, because we infer from
it, with great positiveness, that the agent must have had benev
olent intentions. We think that the motives are indicated by
the act ; but we may be mistaken. ! He who gives food to the
hungry poor would be esteemed benevolent ; but he may do it
with a view to poison them. To strike for the avowed purpose
of causing pain, usually argues ill-will or a malignant design ;
but the blow may come from the kindest heart in the world, for
the express purpose of benefiting him who receives it. In the
present argument, Epicurus assumes that the presence of evil,
that is, the outward fact, is enough to prove a want of benevo
lence, or even a malignant design, on the part of him who might
have prevented it. But if, by evil, is here meant mere pain or
suffering, whether proceeding from bodily or mental causes, we
may boldly deny the inference. If pleasure or mere enjoyment
is not the greatest good, if sometimes it is even inconsistent with
the possession of a higher blessing, then a denial of it may be
a proof of goodness instead of malice. The problem respecting
the existence of evil is really solved by the single proposition,
thatH^we, not happiness, is man s highest interest] Not only
mere narm or suffering, but the liberty to do wrong, is essential
for the existence of virtue.
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 377
The presence of evil does not impeach the perfections of God.
I cannot admit, then, on general grounds, that the presence
either of moral or physical evil in the world throws any doubt
whatever upon the perfections of the Deity, or offers any argu
ment against the doctrine of an ever-watchful and ever-gracious
Providence. It is demonstrable, that there could be no such
thing as holiness, if sin were not possible ; that happiness is not
man s greatest good ; and that occasional privation of it, or posi
tive suffering, may be essential for our education in virtue. We
cannot always trace the immediate connection between the evil
that we now endure, or which we compassionate in others, and
the moral purpose that it is designed to further, or the benevo
lent intention of which it is the index. But we can discern all
the great features of the scheme, and see that what is hard to
bear, or painful to look upon, in a particular case, may be a nec
essary part of a system of government contrived by infinite wis
dom, and executed with almighty power and perfect love. But
as it is not the general argument, in the somewhat abstruse and
technical form that I have here given to it, which usually per
plexes our ideas of Divine Providence, but rather the hardship
and the wrong in particular cases, which, we are prone to think,
might have been prevented by the goodness of God, without
altering, in any material respect, the broad features of his ad
ministration of human affairs, it may be worth while to develop
and apply these principles with some minuteness.
Progress, not mere attainment, is the law of our being. All
that we know of the human mind and of the history of this
world s affairs, with the intimations that these respectively af
ford of the designs of Providence, leads us to conclude, that
I moral discipline, or the formation of character by our own
efforts, aided, indeed, but not determined, by power from on
high, is the great end of our being here below.) Not mere at
tainment, but progress, is the law of our finite condition,
progress desired, planned, and accomplished by ourselves, as
sisted by means that are placed within our reach, though we
are free to use them or not. Trial and effort, mistakes com
mitted and rectified by increased effort, temptations to be met
32*
378 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
and vanquished, and difficulties to be overborne, are essential
parts of such a scheme. Our progress is to be measured, or, in
other words, our merit is to be determined, by the quantity of
ground that we have passed over, not by the absolute distance of
the point that we have reached from the termini of the course.
Therefore, all start fair in the race, though their points of de
parture may be far apart. Mere happiness, however elevated
and unalloyed, is not the grand object ; for happiness is a state
or fixed point, implying neither movement nor effort; the desire
of happiness is implanted in us only as a principle of activity,
to stimulate, never to be fully satisfied. Virtue, on the other
hand, is not a state, but an action ; it is not being, but doing.
All advancement made in it conveys increased power of prog
ress, the motive constantly elevating itself and becoming purer,
obstacles vanishing, and temptations losing their force, as we
go on. Mere enjoyment, on the other hand, satiates and cloys ;
a fresh struggle with difficulties is soon required, or the cup
loses all its sweetness. Repose is pleasant, but continued idle
ness is intolerable.
Difference in this respect betiveen instinct and reason.
There cannot be a better illustration and proof of the correct
ness of this view of life than is afforded by the contrast, which I
have already placed before you, between instinct and reason.
The safety and comfort of the lower animals are provided for,
and all the ends of their being are obtained, under an unerring
guide acting above the sphere of their consciousness. They
reverse the law of human condition ; enjoyment, not progress, is
their highest good. Results, which, if brought about by man,
would imply great sagacity and inventive power, would tax the
loftiest intellect and the most profound study, are accomplished
by them without effort, without education, and without liability
to error. Their faculties, if we may call them theirs, are not
susceptible of any discipline or improvement whatever ; at the
dawn of their existence, they begin their allotted tasks, and
finish them as perfectly as at its close. Having no foresight,
they have no foretaste of evil. With little, if any, sensibility
to suffering, their enjoyment, such as it is, appears always com-
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 379
plete. Death which cannot be foreseen has no terrors ; for
them, it is simply ceasing to live, and is therefore no more an
evil, than their non-existence was during all time anterior to
their birth.
Contrast their situation with man s, who is born helpless,
ignorant, and unprotected, save by the affection of his own
kind. He is left to himself; his will is free, and his reason
must be developed by its own efforts, through constant trials
and mistakes, and frequent pain. With all his boasted learning
and ingenuity, so slowly and laboriously acquired, he cannot
build so perfect a cell, he cannot form so perfect a society, as
the bee ; because the construction of a house or a society, how
ever faultless, is not the object of his being. The purpose for
which he was created is, that he may Jit himself for these and
greater tasks; the education thus self-acquired being the great
end in view, and not the mere accomplishment of the task,
which is comparatively of little moment. We are constantly
mistaking means for ends, the importance of the supposed ends
being exaggerated in our view, in order that we may be induced
to use the supposed means ; in this use or application, in this
effort and the consequent improvement, lies the real end. Most
of the ends which men pursue, are pointed out to them by the
passions and the appetites, that is, by the lower part of their
nature ; the strain of the faculties in this pursuit is counted as
a necessity and a hardship, but is submitted to as the condition
of success. Reason and conscience, if properly developed, are
continually admonishing us, it is true, that we mistake in this
matter ; that the end first in view is not the real end, or of sub
stantive importance ; that the formation of character, the devel
opment of intellectual and moral power by our own efforts, is
the true object ; but their voice can scarcely be heard amid
the din of the passions.
The increase of happiness is not the greatest good. I do but
take the most general instance under these remarks, when I say,
that the love of happiness itself is but one of these lower desires,
and as such, is rightfully restrained by the conscience, which
declares to us with an authority that we cannot but recognize,
380 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
though our actions are too seldom directed by it, that mere en
joyment is not the greatest good. How, then, is it an impeach
ment of the goodness of the Creator, that the happiness of man,
though carefully provided for within certain limits, is still made
secondary to his moral improvement ? As the idea of virtue
includes trial, temptation, suffering, and the liability to sin, it is
a contradiction in terms, to ask that progress in virtue should be
made compatible with the non-existence of evil. All improve
ment presupposes a lower state as a point of departure; all
merit presupposes that the improvement is voluntary, and is due
to one s own exertions.
It may be disputed, perhaps, that the happiness of the brute
creation is complete ; but we have a right to imagine that it is
so, and then to compare our own condition with theirs, suppos
ing all drawbacks to their enjoyment to be taken away. Is
there a human being, whatever may have been his individual
experience, or however large may be his estimate of the sin and
misery which darken the lot of mankind, who will not exclaim,
" God be thanked that he has not made me a happy brute, or a
senseless machine ? " Is not our lot, with all our experience
of pain and wrong, vastly preferable to theirs, even with their
supposed immunity from physical suffering? Sin, of course,
they are not capable of. Or can we imagine any possible con
stitution of the human mind, or any government of this world s
affairs, which shall effectually exclude evil without reducing
man to the situation of an animal or a machine ? If not, if no
better system in this respect is even conceivable, to say nothing of
its possibility, then is the present one the best possible, and both
the justice and the benevolence of its Author are amply vindi
cated. Our inability to conceive of a better one cannot be
referred to the limitation of our faculties, since we are not called
upon to devise a scheme, but are enabled to see that any im
provement of the present one, in respect generally of the pres
ence of evil, would involve a contradiction or an absurdity.
General laws are necessary to guide beings who are endowed
with freewill. In order to apply this general solution of the
problem to particular instances of misfortune and wrong, we
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 381
must remember that the scheme of Divine government is to be
taken as a whole. Whatever is essential to carry out any part
of the plan , must be regarded as a necessary feature of the system,
and we must accept all its consequences along with it. The edu
cation of man, both moral and intellectual, by his own effort,
being the object to be gained, it becomes necessary that the
course of events should be governed by general laws ; or, in other
words, that the action and government of the Deity should be
uniform, so that events should not appear to us to succeed each
other confusedly or at random, but in a fixed relation of ante
cedence and consequence. If reason is to take the place of
instinct, that is, if man is to be self-taught, instead of being
directly moved, like an automaton, by superior wisdom and
power, then the means and appliances must be provided through
which alone reason can act. As a guide to conduct, reason
would be useless without foresight. We could not shape our
actions beforehand, without some knowledge of the future which
they are to affect ; nor could this knowledge be gained, without
such a clew as is afforded by the uniformity of nature. Ex
perience, the great teacher of reason, derives all its efficacy
from our belief, that the future will resemble the past, that bodies
will always retain their properties, that food will continue to
nourish, fire to burn, and poison to kill, and that different
motives will retain generally the efficiency they have often
shown in swaying the conduct of others. A rational being
could not move a step, except at random, but for this confidence
in the permanency of natural causes, as they are called. We
have a right to say, then, that the preservation of general laws is
an essential feature of that scheme of Divine government which
we have tried to develop, that, without them, man could not
be self-taught, would not be capable of progress, could not be a
free agent or a moral being. It is no paradox to say, that the
continuance, the inflexibility, of the law of gravitation, is essen
tial to the support of the law of morality, is vital to the exist
ence of virtue itself.
General laws cannot be suspended in particular cases.
Then we must accept all the necessary consequences of general
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
laws along with them. In the vast majority of instances, we
may presume that they will work for good, tending equally to
guide the conduct, satisfy the wants, and promote the happiness
of man ; and this presumption, as we have seen, is amply sus
tained by experience. But in particular cases, their very inflex
ibility occasions their doing apparent harm ; and these are the
instances of evil which most frequently incline men to murmur
against Divine Providence. They are called " accidents,"
" misfortunes," and even the believer sometimes repines because
the good are not protected against them. But it has been
proved that there is no such thing as chance, or accident, or for
tune. The position evien of a grain of sand, the waving of a
leaf in the wind, is determined, not indeed by the blind and
mechanical cooperation of the properties of matter, but by the
same wisdom and goodness which made human nature capable
of virtue, and which dispose all events for the guidance and the
moral improvement of the human family. Unless the course
of these events were uniform and inflexible, the whole effect of
the lesson would be lost. It seems a light thing for the sufferer
under a particular calamity to ask that the law of order may be
suspended in his case, at least for this time, that the tempest
may not wreck his vessel, or the fire consume his dwelling, or
the blight visit his fields, that the hand of the oppressor may
be stayed, and the wicked may cease to triumph. But as mill
ions have equal reason to ask for the same indulgence, if the
prayers of all were granted, general disorder and confusion
would ensue. We could no longer profit by the past, or prepare
for the future. Prudence would be a word without meaning,
and foresight an impossible attainment. The study of nature,
which now, in a greater or less degree, taxes and improves the
intellect of every human being, would be a profitless collection
of individual and isolated cases, from which no instruction could
be gleaned ; and, as such, it would be abandoned. Having no
means of divining the future, man could only stumble onward
in the dark, or be led by the hand at every step, like a blind
child, through the palace of God s works.
" If we attempt," says Dr. Ferguson, " to conceive such a
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 388
scene as some skeptics would require to evince the wisdom and
goodness of God, a scene in which every desire were at once
gratified without delay, difficulty, or trouble, it is evident, that, on
such a supposition, the end of every active pursuit would be
anticipated ; exertion would be prevented, every faculty remain
unemployed, and mind itself would be no more than a conscious
ness of languor under an oppression of weariness, such as
satiety and continued inoccupation are known to produce. On
this supposition, all the active powers which distinguish human
nature would be superfluous, and only serve to disturb our peace,
or sour the taste of those inferior pleasures which appear to be
consistent with indolence and sloth."
Suspension of the law would work greater evils. But you
ask that the law may be suspended only in this instance, and
still be allowed to prevail elsewhere, so that, here, signal virtue
may be rewarded or saved from suffering, while the uniformity
of Providence may be maintained as a guide to man on all
other occasions. Passing over the difficulty already adverted
to, that the number of equally just applications for interference
would so far balance the number of cases in which the law held
good, as to destroy all confidence in the uniformity of nature, it
is important to consider how far the consequences of any one
interference might extend. If the wind is not to blow, in order
that the hopes of one righteous man may not be wrecked, the
atmosphere may stagnate and corrupt over large regions of
space, bringing pestilence and death to thousands. The inun
dation that sweeps away one house, may fertilize a whole district.
" Think we, like some weak prince, the Eternal Cause,
Prone for his favorites to reverse his laws ?
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation cease, if you go by ?
Or some old temple, nodding to its fall,
For Chartres head reserve the hanging wall ? "
Besides, in order that the good may improve in goodness,
there must be something contingent and uncertain in the rewards
of virtue. Constituted as we are in other respects, and general
laws still holding good in the majority of cases, the invariable
384 THE ORIGIN OP EVIL.
visible connection of virtue with happiness would destroy the
whole foundation of disinterested conduct. Moreover, the mis
chance, as we call it, affects only the outward advantages of
rectitude ; its inward rewards are always sure, and these are a
sufficient compensation for the hardship or loss.
" What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul s calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy,
Is virtue s prize ; a better would you fix,
Then give Humility a coach and six,
Justice a conqueror s sword, or Truth a gown,
Or Public Spirit its great cure, a crown,"
Each particular virtue presupposes the existence of its oppo
site. And this suggests the next consideration, that, if we ex
amine separately the requisitions of the moral law, we shall
find that each individual virtue presupposes the existence either
of misfortune or wrong. Thus, courage would not be possible
without danger, nor fortitude without pain. There could be no
temperance, but for the liability to excess, and no benevolence, un
less there were wants to satisfy, or sufferings to relieve. Even
justice would lose the greater part of its merit, if there was no
self-denial in satisfying its demands. Prudence could not be
exercised, if recklessness could not suffer ; and even veracity
would be no virtue, if one could not help telling the truth. He
who could not do harm or wrong, might still be innocent, it is
true ; but there would be no merit in his innocence. In short,
merit consists in withstanding temptation, alleviating pain, and
opposing wrong ; so that, without the presence of evil, there would
be nothing to praise, and nothing to blame. These reasons, be
it observed, account not only for the permission of the crimes,
whether of omission or commission, which men are guilty of,
but for the physical evils which befall us from the unalterable
course of external nature, or are only so far connected with
mind, that we must assume the existence of a sentient being
before the mischief can be felt.
.Evil has always a compensating good. That there is no
evil, dependent on natural causes alone, which has not its com
pensating good, is a truth which has been so much insisted
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 385
upon by writers on this subject, that I need not dwell upon it
here.* The difficulty of finding out what this compensation is,
in some cases, shows the imperfection of our faculties, but cer
tainly does not accuse the benevolence of God. The most ob
vious reason for this difficulty, is the vast compass of the system,
of which each individual being constitutes so small a part.
" Imagine only," says Shaftesbury, " some person entirely a
stranger to navigation, and ignorant of the nature of sea or
waters : How great his astonishment, when, finding himself on
board some vessel anchored at sea, remote from all land pros
pect, whilst it was yet a calm, he viewed the ponderous ma
chine, firm and motionless in the midst of the smooth ocean,
and considered its foundation beneath, together with its cord
age, masts, and sails above, how easily would he see the
whole one regular structure, all things depending on each other ;
the uses of the rooms below, the lodgements, and the conven
iences of men and stores ! But being ignorant of the intent and
design of all above, would he pronounce the masts and cordage
to be useless and cumbersome, and for this reason condemn the
frame and despise the architect ? O, my friend, let us not thus
betray our ignorance, but consider where we are, and in what a
universe ! Think of the many parts of the vast machine, in
which we have so little insight, and of which it is impossible
that we should know the ends and uses : when, instead of seeing
to the highest pendants, we see only some lower deck, and are
* " Thus, for example, poverty, or the want of riches, is generally com
pensated by having more hopes, and fewer fears, by a greater share of
health, and a more exquisite relish of the smallest enjoyments, than those
who possess them are usually blessed with. The want of taste and gen
ius, with all the pleasures that arise from them, are commonly recom
pensed by a more useful kind of common sense, together with a wonderful
delight, as well as success, in the busy pursuits of a scrambling world.
The sufferings of the sick are greatly relieved by many trifling gratifica
tions imperceptible to others, and sometimes almost repaid by the incon
ceivable transports occasioned by the return of health and ligor. Folly
cannot be very grievous, because imperceptible ; and I doubt not but there
is some truth in that rant of a mad poet, That there is a pleasure in being
mad, which none but madmen know." Soame Jenyns.
33
386 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
in this dark case of flesh confined, even to the hold and meanest
station of the vessel."
General laws, on the whole, promote order and happiness.
Every discovery in science, all progress in the knowledge of
nature, goes to illustrate and confirm the truth, that the tendency
of the general laws which prevail in the universe is favorable,
on the whole, to order and to happiness. Time is necessary,
that this truth may become known. An observer of vegetable
life, whose knowledge was confined to a single year, would con
sider the approach of winter as an irreparable calamity. The
falling of the foliage, the death of annual plants, the earth sealed
up by frosts, and the skies darkened by storms, would appear
to him not merely as unredeemed evils, but as tokens of a uni
versal cessation of life, if not of a dissolution of all things. But
so familiar to us is the fact, that the decay of plants is neces
sary to keep up the fertility of the ground, and that the powers
of vegetation, suspended during the winter, burst forth with ad
ditional luxuriance in the spring, that we hardly think of reck
oning the end of the glories of autumn among the evils of nature.
The most poisonous plants, when administered with skill and in
moderate doses, have been found to possess the most valuable
medicinal qualities. The pain which follows cutting or other
wise wounding the flesh, and generally the great sensitiveness
of the outer surface of the body, were thought, till very recently,
to be unmitigated evils ; but it is now ascertained, from the dis
tribution of this sensitiveness, that its purpose is unquestionably
one of pure benevolence, its office being to warn us against the
approach of bodily harm, since those parts which are not liable
to injury are not rendered sensitive. But the skeptic will ask,
If Omnipotence could not guard us against such harm, without
the use of means that involve suffering ? Certainly it could, just
as it does, in the case of the lower animals, ly leading us blind
fold away from the harm, compelling us to take precautions
against it without our being conscious that they are precautions.
But then ufaere would be human reason, forethought, and free
will ? or how would mental and moral discipline, or self-educa
tion, be possible ? Consistently with the preservation of these
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 387
great ends, which we have seen to be paramount in importance
over all others for man s own good, we may confidently say,
that the means actually adopted in man s case are the wisest,
kindest, and best.
Special provision against pain. But the progress of dis
covery within a year or two has added another and still more
striking illustration of the truth here referred to. To the per
fection of the plan just described, for warding off bodily harm,
it might have been objected, that surgical operations sometimes
become necessary for removing a deeply seated injury, and that
the pain which the surgeon is then obliged to inflict, being use
less for its original purpose of warning us against danger, is an
evil without compensation. This objection, I say, might have
been made, though it would not have seemed a very reasonable
one ; for it amounts to asking, that, under a system of which the
preservation of general laws is an essential part, precisely the
same thing namely, the cutting of the flesh should be at
tended with pain, if done accidentally, but should be free from
pain, if done intentionally, and with a benevolent purpose.
This would seem to be a contradiction. But who shall prescribe
bounds to the wisdom and goodness of God? Certain sub
stances in nature have been endowed with such properties, that
when administered to the patient, without causing any harm to
his bodily constitution, his sensibility to pain, for a time, is en
tirely destroyed, and the surgeon may do his most formidable
office upon him, while he is enjoying the happiest of dreams.
Will even the skeptic dare affirm, that the marvellous anses-
thetic properties of ether and chloroform were not added to
these substances for the express purpose which they have
recently been discovered to answer, or that the discovery itself,
so unexpectedly made, was not intended both to reward and
stimulate man s researches in science with a view of doing good
to his fellows, so that it is comprehended under that vast scheme
of self-education which is the great object of man s earthly ex
istence ? In reference only to this discovery and its immediate
results, it is not going too far to apply the remark first made in
regard to the astronomer, and to say that the undevout surgeon
is mad.
388 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
Increase of knowledge would explain away other evils. Self-
improvement, both of the individual and of the race, seems to
be the leading purpose of the Deity in the government of man
kind. The several parts of man s nature are developed through
their influence on each other, and in due proportion. The cul
tivation of his intellect, and the stores of knowledge thereby
amassed, are continually adding to the safeguards of conscience
and to the evidences of religion, continually doing away with
those objections to the providence of God, which, in the infancy
of the race, perhaps, can be met by the humility and the power
of Faith alone. Who can say how many of the apparent in
dividual evils of man s condition upon earth, now inexplicable,
except from the general consideration that the possibility of suf
fering and sin is absolutely essential to any progress in happi
ness and virtue, will be directly explained away by the future
triumphs of science, which has recently shed so much light upon
the beneficent constitution of the body in regard to pain ? *
* In the argument from design, as Lord Brougham remarks, AVC infer
that contrivance is universal, because we are able to trace and comprehend
it in the great majority of instances ; the number of exceptions to the
rule continually diminishing as our knowledge of nature increases, we
have a right to conclude, with respect to every natural arrangement in
which we cannot yet detect a purpose, that the fault is only in our imper
fect information, that the purpose exists, though we have not yet dis
covered it, and that the Deity really does nothing in vain, though man
may not be able, in every case, to read His designs.
The same form of reasoning may be employed, when we would account
for the origin of evil. Many things were considered by the ancients to be
unmitigated evils, which, as the progress of modern science has shown,
ought rather to be considered as unmingled good. The instance given in
the text is a fair example. We can now see, that the liability to pain
never exists except where it answers a useful purpose, that of warning
us against danger ; and that means are placed within our reach to effect a
temporary suspension of the pain even in these cases, if any necessity
arises for performing a surgical operation. Modern investigations have
brought to light so many instances of this sort, that a fair induction from
them enables us to conclude, that all the remaining specks will disappear,
as soon as scientific research is carried far enough. We may even discern
a reason why they are still allowed to dim the prospect; it is that we may
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 389
That the general laws of the universe are favorable to order
and to happiness, is an observation, says Mr. Stewart, which " I
am persuaded will appear, upon an accurate examination, to
hold without any exception whatever; and it is one of the
noblest employments of philosophy to verify and illustrate its
universality, by investigating the beneficent purposes to which
the laws of nature are subservient. Now, it is evidently from
these general laws alone, that the ultimate ends of Providence can
be judged of, and not from their accidental collisions with the
partial interests of individuals ; collisions, too, which so often
arise from an abuse of their moral liberty. It is the great error
of the vulgar (who are incapable of comprehensive views) to
attempt to read the ways of Providence in particular events,
be incited to make the requisite efforts for the attainment of that knowl
edge in whose light they will finally disappear.
" The problem has been solved by mathematicians, Sir Isaac Newton
having first investigated it, of finding the form of a symmetrical solid, or
solid of revolution, which in moving through a fluid shall experience the
least possible resistance ; in other words, of finding the form which must
be impressed upon any given bulk of matter, so that it shall move more
easily through a surrounding fluid than if it had any other conceivable
form whatever, with a breadth or a length also given. The figure bears a
striking resemblance to that of a fish. Now suppose a fish were formed
exactly in this shape, and that some animal endowed with reason were
placed upon a portion of its surface, and able to trace its form for only a
limited extent, say at the narrow part, where the broad portion or end of
the moving body was opposed, or seemed as if it were opposed, to the sur
rounding fluid when the fish moved ; the reasoner would at once con
clude, that the contrivance of the fish s form was very inconvenient and
artificial, and that nothing could be worse adapted for expeditions or easy
movement through the waters. Yet it is certain, that, upon being after
wards permitted to view THE WHOLE body of the fish, what had seemed a
defect and an evil, not only would appear plainly to be none at all, but it
would appear manifest, that this seeming evil or defect was a part of the
most perfect and excellent structure which it was possible even for Om
nipotence and Omniscience to have adopted, and that no other conceivable
arrangement could by possibility have produced so much advantage, or
tended so much to fulfil the design in view." Brougham s Supplementary
Dissertations to Paley.
33*
390 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
and to judge favorably or unfavorably of the order of the uni
verse from its accidental effects with respect to themselves or
their friends. Perhaps, indeed, this disposition is inseparable,
in some degree, from the weakness of humanity. But surely it
is a weakness, which we ought to strive to correct ; and the
more we do correct it, the more pleasing our conceptions of the
universe become. Accidental inconveniences disappear, when
compared with the magnitude of the advantages which it is the
object of the general laws to secure : or, as one author has
expressed it, ; scattered evils are lost in the blaze of superabun
dant goodness, as the spots on the disk of the sun are lost in the
splendor of his rays. "
Merit determined by progress, not by attainment. That
progress in knowledge, happiness, and virtue, effected through
our own exertions, and not the mere attainment of any fixed
point or degree in either, is the main purpose of our being here
below, and really our greatest good, is a doctrine which imme
diately explains away all those supposed evils in human condi
tion, which are usually classed under the heads of inequality and
imperfection. All conditions are alike in this respect, inasmuch
as all admit of advance and improvement ; the progress of each
individual being measured from his own starting point, all have
an equal chance of winning the prize, though the lot of some be
cast in the early ages of hoar antiquity, and others are seem
ingly favored by the intelligence, the arts, and the morals of
civilized nations and modern times. The happiness of each, as
we have seen, is computed by his own standard of happiness,
whatever that may be ; and his merit, also, is determined by
the measure of his moral improvement, and not by the refine
ment of those ideas of virtue which he may finally attain. It
is, then, so far from an impeachment of the goodness of the Cre
ator that he has made us finite beings, finite in our existence,
our capacities, our virtues, and our enjoyments, that we see at
once, infinity or perfection is the only point from which progress
is impossible. Death alone, or in itself considered, apart from
the antecedent dread of it, and from the injury to the feelings
of the survivors, is not even an apparent evil, any more than
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 391
the fact of our non-existence through antecedent ages.* It is
matter of the commonest observation, also, that it is not the
possession of any given quantity of the means of enjoyment,
however great, but the increase of that quantity, whether the
original sum were a unit or a million, which makes a man
happy. To adopt Paley s illustration, " It is not the income
which any man possesses, but the increase of income that af
fords the pleasure."
Virtue and happiness determined only lyy reference to capacity.
How unphilosophical, then, as well as ungrateful, is that
frame of mind which looks with a jaundiced eye over creation,
intent only on spying out its evils and imperfections ; which
pities the oyster, because it is inferior to the vertebrated ani
mal, the quadruped, because it is not equal to man, and man, be
cause his finite capacities are far below the perfections of the
Infinite One ! Yet it is only such reasoning as this, which has
* There is so much truth, as well as beauty, in the following remarks by
Soame Jenyns, that I quote the whole passage, though some of the partic
ular statements and arguments in it are open to criticism.
" Death, the last and most dreadful of all evils, is so far from being
one, that it is the infallible cure of all others.
To die is landing on some silent shore,
Where billows never beat, nor tempests roar ;
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, t is o er.
For, abstracted from the sickness and sufferings usually attending it, it is
no more than the expiration of that term of life God was pleased to be
stow on us, without any claim or merit on our part. But was it an
evil ever so great, it could not be remedied but by one much greater, which
is by living for ever ; by which means, our wickedness, unrestrained by the
prospect of a future state, would grow so insupportable, our sufferings so
intolerable by perseverance, and our pleasures so tiresome by repetition,
that no being in the universe could be so completely miserable as a spe
cies of immortal men. We have no reason, therefore, to look upon death
as an evil, or to fear it as a punishment, even without any supposition of
a future life : but if we consider it as a passage to a more perfect state, or
a remove only in an eternal succession of still improving states, (for which
we have the strongest reasons), it will then appear a new favor from the
divine munificence; and a man must be as absurd to repine at dying,
as a traveller would be, who proposed to himself a delightful tour through
392 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
made the problem respecting the origin of evil to appear insolu
ble. However great the good which is actually provided may
be, the skeptic fancies that he may always ask, Why is it not
greater ? If mankind are happy, why were they not created
earlier, or why do they not now exist in greater numbers ?
Here is the error of supposing that virtue and happiness are
tangible products, instead of abstract ideas, are quantities
which may be weighed or measured, the goodness of the Crea
tor being estimated by the magnitude of the aggregate. But it
is not so ; each can be determined only in reference to the ca
pacities of the individual, whose cup of enjoyment, whatever its
dimensions may be, being full, or whose merit being positive
from the moral improvement that he has made, no matter where
he began or where he leaves off, the equity of the Divine gov
ernment, in his respect, is sufficiently vindicated. Hence the
justice as well as the beauty of the solemn affirmation of our
various unknown countries, to lament that he cannot take up his residence
at the first dirty inn which he baits at on the road.
" The instability of human life, or the hasty changes of its successive
periods, of which we so frequently complain, are no more than the neces
sary progress of it to this necessary conclusion ; and are so far from being
evils deserving these complaints, that they are the source of our greatest
pleasures, as they are the source of all novelty, from which our greatest
pleasures are ever derived. The continual succession of seasons in the
human life, by daily presenting to us new scenes, render it agreeable, and
like those of the year, afford us delights by their change, which the choicest
of them could not give us by their continuance. In the spring of life, the
gilding of the sunshine, the verdure of the fields, and the variegated paint
ings of the sky, are so exquisite in the eyes of infants at their first looking
abroad into a new world, as nothing perhaps afterwards can equal. The
heat and vigor of the succeeding summer of youth ripens for us new
pleasures, the blooming maid, the nightly revel, and the jovial chase : the
serene autumn of complete manhood feasts us with the golden harvests of
our worldly pursuits : nor is the hoary winter of old age destitute of its
peculiar comforts and enjoyments, of which the recollection and relation
of those past are perhaps none of the least ; and at last, death opens to us
a new prospect, from whence we shall probably look black upon the diver
sions and occupations of this world with the same contempt we do now on
our tops, and hobby-horses, and with the same surprise, that they could
ever so much entertain or engage us." Soame Jenyns.
THE UNITY OF GOD. 393
Saviour, that " There is more joy in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons who need
no repentance." A German writer has expressed the same
general truth in a forcible, perhaps hyperbolical, manner.
" If," says Lessing, " God should hold all truths inclosed in his
right hand, and in his left, only the ever-active impulse to the
pursuit of truth, although with the condition that I should
always and for ever err, and should say to me, Choose ! I
should fall with submission upon his left hand, and say, Father,
give ! Pure Truth is for Thee alone."
CHAPTER VIII.
-
THE UNITY OF GOD.
Summary of the last chapter. It was remarked in the last
chapter, in reference to the problem respecting the origin of
evil, that we need not consider how much evil there is in the
world ; for the problem is solved, when we can account for the
existence of any evil, however small, and show that it is recon
cilable with a belief in the infinite goodness and almighty power
of the Creator. Now, omnipotence does not include the power
to accomplish a metaphysical impossibility, the statement of
which always involves a contradiction, or, in other words, is an
absurd and meaningless statement. It is just as contradictory
to suppose that virtue can exist without a free choice between
good and evil, as that four is not equal to twice two ; for freedom
is involved in the idea of virtue, just as twice two is involved in
the idea of four. The phrase compulsory or enforced virtue,
is quite as absurd as that of a virtuous machine. Sin and suf
fering, therefore, must be possible, if virtue is to be possible ;
and if virtue is man s highest interest, which both reason and
394 THE UNITY OF GOD.
conscience loudly declare, then it is not only compatible with
infinite benevolence, but essential to it, that pain and wrong
should be permitted. The balance is consequently on the side
of good, or a greater good is accomplished than would otherwise
be possible. Benevolence does not consist simply in preventing
pain, but in bestowing the largest amount, or balance, of pleas
ure ; just as a man with an income of a thousand a year, but
who is in debt for a hundred, is still richer than one with an
annual revenue of five hundred, which is wholly unincumbered.
It was shown that no exemption from evil was possible, or even
conceivable, which would not reduce man to the condition of a
brute or a machine ; and as his state, at the worst, is immeasu
rably preferable to theirs, his state is, in fact, the best possible ;
for we cannot even conceive of a better one, that is, we can
not point out any defect in it.
In applying this solution to particular cases of evil, it was re
marked, that education self-acquired, or progress in virtue and
happiness through one s own efforts, is our greatest good, and
the final end of our being here below. It is essential for such
progress that the universe should be governed by general laws ;
that is, that the course of nature, or the action of the Deity,
should be uniform ; reason would otherwise be inferior to in
stinct, and could not operate as a guide to conduct. We may
expect that the general tendency of these laws will promote
order and happiness ; but, for the very reason that they are
general and inflexible, they must sometimes conflict with the
interests of individuals. The weakness of human nature is
prone to magnify the importance of these collisions, and to com
plain of them as defects in the order of Providence. In a
broader view, they are seen to be necessary parts of a system
devised by infinite wisdom and benevolence for the highest
interests of mankind. Some good always results from them ;
none are without compensation, in respect either of outward ad
vantages or of inward enjoyment. The imperfections and ine
qualities of human condition cease to appear as evils, when
self-improvement, or an advance in knowledge, virtue, and hap
piness, is regarded as the principal aim of our existence ; upon
THE UNITY OF GOD. 395
this theory, all start alike, and we no longer regret that absolute
perfection is unattainable, when we remember that it is the only
state in which progress is impossible. As science advances, and
we learn more of the secrets of nature and the purposes of the
Deity, these apparent evils lessen in number and gradually fade
away. Bodily pain, which ranks first among them in the esti
mation of the vulgar, has been shown by recent discoveries to
be a purely beneficent institution ; and as our horizon enlarges
and our vision improves, there is every reason to hope, that all
the other ills of our lot will appear either imaginary, or such as
would in no way interfere with the enjoyment of a wise and
good man. The specks that are apparent in the administration
of this world s affairs will be lost in the unutterable splendors
of Divine justice, mercy, and love.
TJie doctrine of the Manichceans. Among the most remark
able theories to which the discussions respecting the origin of
evil have given rise, is the doctrine of the Manichaeans, who
maintained that the world is governed by two coeternal and
independent principles, or deities, the one benevolent and the
other malicious ; and that from the perpetual conflict between
them arises the mingling of joy with woe in the condition of
mankind. This belief, irreconcilable, as it appears, either with
sound reason or pure religion, existed even in the bosom of the
Christian church in its earlier ages, so renowned a theologian as
St. Augustine having once adhered to it ; and some traces of
it, perhaps, remain to the present day, in the vulgar doctrine
respecting devils. It is hardly necessary to say, that, from a
warfare which has been going on from all eternity between two
equally powerful deities, nothing but confusion could ensue ; so
that the theory is at once rebuked by the order and harmony
that prevail throughout the universe. Their alternate reign
might explain recurrent periods of unmingled happiness and
unmingled misery, but would not do away with the objection
arising from the mixture at the same moment of good with evil.
Both could not be almighty, since the unbounded power of one
would be a limitation (that is, a negation) of the infinite power
of the other. On the other hand, they must be equally mighty,
396 THE UNITY OF GOD.
since, otherwise, their purposes always clashing, the stronger
would certainly destroy the weaker, or reduce him to inaction.
But the existence of two finite beings of equal attributes, the
one perfectly good, and the other irredeemably wicked, is just
as difficult to be accounted for as the coexistence of good and
evil among mankind, to explain which this theory was first in
vented.* It is but supposing that the class of the virtuous is
diminished in number till but one representative of it remains,
and that the same thing takes place with regard to the wicked ;
a supposition which throws no light upon the main question,
why any wickedness is permitted.
Polytheism is the oldest religious belief. But having already
accounted for the presence of evil, we need not concern our
selves about this fable, for it is a fable, or legend, rather than
a doctrine of philosophy or theology, except to point to it as
one of the forms of polytheism, or of those religious systems
that are not based upon the dogma of the unity of God, the
subject which I propose to discuss in the present chapter. If
we look only at what Hume calls the natural history of religion,
* " The Manichsean doctrine, of two eternal and mutually repugnant
principles," says Dr. Crombie, "seems morally impossible. To suppose
an eternal and infinite being, possessing unlimited wisdom and power,
whose nature is purely malevolent, is to suppose the coexistence of two
irreconcilable contrarieties. Malignity, implying ignorance and weakness,
cannot possibly coexist with the attributes of infinite power and infinite wisdom.
This objection alone appears fatal to the hypothesis.
" Nor is the hypothesis more defensible on the supposition, that the two
eternal beings do not possess infinite wisdom and infinite power. If such
could without absurdity be supposed to exist, they must either possess
these attributes in an equal degree, or one must be superior to the other.
If we take the former alternative, the energies of both, engaged in eternal
conflict, must be mutually neutralized. Every effort of the one to produce
good or evil, must be instantly counteracted by the opposition of the other.
Like two equal contending weights, neither could preponderate. Under
the conflicting agencies of two such beings, there could exist neither good
nor evil. If we take the other alternative, and suppose the superiority of
either, it is evident that the inferior must ultimately yield, and the struggle
for the mastery terminate in the established ascendency of his more saga
cious and powerful opponent." Crombie s Nat. Theology, Vol. II. p. 158.
THE UNITY OP GOD. 397
and put aside the inquiry respecting a primitive revelation to
mankind, there is no doubt that polytheism is the most ancient
form of religious faith, as it is still the most prevalent one. It
is the natural belief of a barbarous or half-civilized nation, who
have neither tradition nor philosophy to set them right. The
religious sentiment in man is indestructible. Men are inclined
to venerate and worship some unseen power or powers, just as
strongly as to exercise the benevolent affections, and to seek out
some objects, if none happen to be originally near at hand, on
which these feelings may expend themselves. The manifesta
tion of power is so firmly associated in every one s mind with the
presence of a conscious individual agency, that striking physical
occurrences, such as tempests, earthquakes, inundations, thunder,
and the return of the seasons, are unhesitatingly referred, at
first, each to its peculiar deity, or conscious cause. The faith
of the vulgar is soon systematized, expanded, and recorded in
the first rude attempts of a people at poetry, philosophy, and
theology, pursuits which are naturally antecedent to those of
the physical sciences, for the same reason that poetry precedes
prose ; namely, that the imagination works with greater facility
and pleasure than the judgment or the logical faculty. When
thus partially reduced to order, and enshrined in verse, this
faith becomes a system of mythology, which, from the variety
and interesting character of its materials, will always maintain
a strong hold upon uncultivated minds, though the learned and
the philosophical will be struck with a view of its incongruities
and absurdities, and will strive to fashion for themselves an
esoteric doctrine of a single principle, which sustains and gov
erns all things.
The opinion, that polytheism is the first natural product of
the religious sentiment among mankind, and that it everywhere
preceded a belief in the unity of God, is ably sustained by
Hume, a portion of whose argument I borrow the more will
ingly, as it is sanctioned by the high authority of Dugald
Stewart. " It seems certain," says Hume, " that, according to
the natural progress of human thought, the ignorant multitude
must first entertain some grovelling and familiar notion of
34
398 THE UNITY OF GOP.
superior powers, before they stretch their conception to thai
perfect Being who bestowed order on the whole frame of nature.
We may as reasonably imagine, that men inhabited palaces
before huts and cottages, or studied geometry before agriculture,
as assert that the Deity appeared to them a pure spirit, omni
scient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, before he was apprehended
to be a powerful, though limited being, with human passions and
appetites, limbs and organs. The mind rises gradually from
inferior to superior ; by abstracting from what is imperfect, it
forms an idea of perfection ; and, slowly distinguishing the nobler
parts of its own frame from the grosser, it learns to transfer
only the former, much elevated and refined, to its divinity.
Nothing could disturb this natural progress of thought, but some
obvious and invincible argument, which might immediately lead
the mind into the pure principles of theism, and make it over
leap, at one bound, the vast interval which is interposed between
the human and the Divine nature. But though I allow, that
the order and frame of the universe, when accurately examined,
affords such an argument, yet I can never think that this con
sideration could have an influence on mankind when they formed
their first rude notions of religion."
The progress of science lessens the number of deities* The
number and variety of the operations of nature suggest to the
ignorant and uninquiring mind a corresponding number of un
known causes which are active in producing them. The move
ments and changeable aspects of the clouds, the air, the rivers,
the sea, the growth of plants, and the diurnal and annual
revolutions of the starry firmament, are referred each to its
hidden cause or separate deity ; every volcano has an imprisoned
demigod struggling under it, and every thunderstorm suggests
an angry deity launching his bolts against his foes. As science
advances, objects and events are classified, and causes general
ized. Phenomena the most unlike in outward appearance, are
found to be explicable through the operation of one and the
same power. The law of gravitation alone explains most of
the physical changes which were arranged by the ancients under
so many distinct heads and sovereigns ; many others are trace-
THE UNITY OP GOD. 399
able to the single law of chemical affinities. Hence, if a
mythology were to be constructed now, on the same general
principles as of old, Olympus would be less crowded.
If, from purely physical occurrences, we turn to the vicissitudes
of man s condition and the general course of human affairs, we
find a similar effect produced on religious belief. In barbar
ous ages, the lot of individuals seems to be determined by chance,
or by the conjunction of an indefinite number of causes. The
fortunes of war, the caprices of sovereigns, the ravages (against
which ignorance has no shield) of famine and pestilence, the
rise and fall of dynasties, and the brief cycles of national pros
perity and adversity, introduce so much uncertainty into all cal
culations respecting the future, that men are tempted to refer
all events to the agency of a crowd of independent and often
hostile deities, against whose power human- strivings produce
but little effect. But the study of history and of the laws of the
human mind, with a knowledge of the fundamental principles
of politics and political economy, brings order into this chaos,
and makes the past intelligible, and the future a subject of cal
culation and foresight. Good and ill fortune are now referred
to their true sources, in the characters of men themselves, and
the number of special deities who exert any influence over
human affairs, is rapidly reduced to one.
Two conclusions may be drawn from this fact of the early
growth of polytheism. The first is, that the religious sentiment
alone is no safe guide to the doctrine of the unity of God ; it is
equally well satisfied by the worship of a crowd of inferior dei
ties. Reason alone, or reason aided by Revelation, can enable
us to form fit conceptions of the Supreme Being. Natural the
ology is the product of the understanding and the moral sense ;
feeling or sentiment only affecting; the mode of our perception
of its truths, or forming the atmosphere through which we re
gard them. The second inference is, that if, at an early period
of civilization, among a people otherwise rude and ignorant, or
at any rate, enjoying no special advantages over surrounding
nations, a belief in the unity of God is found to be a prominent
400 THE UNITY OF GOD.
feature in their religion, the conclusion is unavoidable, that this
belief came from immediate revelation. It is not the natural
product of the human mind under such circumstances ; the un
assisted reason could not have attained to it. It is supernatural,
then, whether it be a remnant of the knowledge with which man
was originally endowed when he was first placed upon the
earth, and by which alone he could be fitted for the exigencies
of a situation at once novel and perilous, or a special communi
cation from on high, designed as a foundation for a purer faith,
and as seed for subsequent diffusion among all tribes, languages,
and nations.
Polytheism rejected by educated and thinking minds. Poly
theism being the earliest product of the religious sentiment, and
maintaining a strong hold upon the imaginations of the vulgar,
we might expect that high mental cultivation would either en
able a few minds to detect its absurdities, and to refine it into a
system of pure theism, or that these few would themselves fall
back into utter skepticism. The enlightened class among the
Greeks and Romans really fluctuated between these two ex
tremes. They derided the popular faith, but they had nothing
certain to put in its place. Their speculations upon the subject
have the air rather of exercises of fancy and rhetoric, than of
the argumentative examination of a theme of vital importance
to man. Socrates was perhaps the only one among them, of
whose opinions and reasonings we have any full statement, who
entertained decided notions respecting the character and func
tions of the Supreme Being ; and it was the purity of his ethical
system, rather than the soundness of his philosophy in general,
which guided him to a right conclusion. His pupil, Plato, mys
tified his teacher s doctrine with so many strange fancies and
untenable conceits, that it is difficult to believe that he was
earnest in the inquiry. Of course, I speak only of those who
wrote before the promulgation of Christianity, as the silent in
fluence of this faith modified the opinions of many who did not
avowedly embrace it. Cicero has little claim to originality in
any of his philosophical speculations ; and as, at different times,
THE UNITY OF GOD. 401
he argued with about equal warmth on both sides of the ques
tion respecting the existence of one God, it is not likely that he
had formed any decided belief about it.
Polytheism has no evidence or presumption in its favor. It
is matter of history, then, that a system of polytheism has never
satisfied the requisitions of the cultivated and inquiring intel
lect ; failing to struggle up from it to clear ideas and firm con
victions respecting the unity of the Deity, the best minds, edu
cated under such a system, have fallen back upon a contemptu
ous estimate of the faith of the common people, and a general
distrust of man s capacity to form a purer and better-grounded
doctrine. It is unnecessary, therefore, to disprove polytheism,
for there is no evidence or presumption in its favor. It is a
popular prejudice, or a poetical fancy, not an opinion resting
upon argument, or a system devised after rational inquiry and
upon philosophical principles. We have found proof, clear and
abundant, of the existence of one God ; but we have no testi
mony, no intimations even, that there are many gods. The
presumption is all the other way ; the whole course of the rea
soning going to show that there is one Supreme Being, Creator
and Governor of all things. To assert the existence of others,
is to deny his supremacy ; if polytheism be true, there are be
ings whom he did not create and does not govern. Indirectly,
then, the whole argument that we have thus far considered, is
an argument for the unity of the Deity ; since the conclusion to
which it leads us, is directly opposed to polytheism. I do not
say that it disproves the existence of an order of beings su
perior to the human, but still finite, created, and dependent.
There may be such intermediate natures, though the universe
to our eyes affords no trace of them, and the question whether
they exist or not is one which it does not concern us to answer.
By whatever name they may be designated, angels, demons,
or ministering spirits, they are not deities ; that is, they are
not uncreated, independent, and eternal. " It seems a self-evi
dent proposition, that the First Cause must be one ; because, if
there were more, they would want some prior cause to assign
them their several stations and properties,"
34*
402 THE UNITY OF GOD.
Argument for the unity of God. The argument, if it can be
called such, in favor of the unity of God, is usually stated thus :
If one cause is sufficient to account for all the phenomena, it
is needless and unphilosophical to suppose that there are sev
eral causes. This is the only sort of proof that a negative
proposition admits of ; and it is admitted to be satisfactory in
physical and moral science, the study of which would otherwise
be profitless and vain, as it could lead to no definite conclusion.
Indirectly, however, we may substantiate the doctrine of the
Divine unity, by pointing out the unity of design which prevails
throughout the universe. This is a profitable inquiry, though
its direct result is rather to establish the wisdom, than the sin
gleness, of the creative and governing Power. As it throws
light, however, upon the character of the creation, and upon the
nature of the Divine government, I shall devote to it what re
mains of the present chapter.
What sort of effects imply unity of cause. Objects and
events are considered as simple or complex in more senses than
one. If absolutely simple, as, for instance, a clap of thunder,
or the personality of one human being, the propriety of as
signing but one cause to it is sufficiently evident. It is incon
ceivable, that many causes should cooperate for the production
of one effect, which has no complexity of parts, and does not ad
mit of degrees. Many arms and levers may act together in
turning over a heavy stone ; but the effect here is really com
plex, each lever actually raising some of the weight, in propor
tion to the power and effort expended upon it. But to call an
absolutely indivisible atom or being out of nothingness, necessa
rily implies unity of cause ; for every exertion of power must
produce some effect, and if two powers were exerted at the same
instant, two effects, or an effect in some way complex, must be
produced. The indivisible personality of one human being,
then, proves to a demonstration, that the beginning of his ex
istence is an effect due to one creative Cause. If one man,
therefore, formed the whole of creation, the unity of the Creator
would be demonstrable. But this is not the case.
Inference from unity of organization. An object, however,
THE UNITY OF GOD. 4.03
may be considered as single in another sense. If it is not a
mere aggregate of parts, but a system, in which the whole is the
result of all the parts taken and acting together, there is a strong
presumption, though not an absolute proof, that it is the effect
of one cause. Such is every organism, a plant, or a human
body, for instance, as distinguished from inorganic masses,
like a rock, or a heap of sand. Here the probability is very
great, though it does not amount to certainty, that one creative
mind presided over the formation of this virtual whole. The
organism is complex, indeed, for it is made up of many parts ;
but as all these parts have an intimate connection with each
other and with the whole, we presume that one mind must have
planned the whole, and executed it, either directly by its own
power, or mediately, through subordinate agents. It is hardly
possible to conceive of two minds, or more, perfectly coinciding
in their purposes and modes of execution ; to our apprehension,
at least, two such minds run together and make up one being,
when there is no distinction of bodies to keep them apart. Two
purely immaterial existences cannot be distinguished from each
other, according to human conception, except by the difference
of their purposes and acts ; and any such difference precludes
the supposition of their cooperating with perfect equality in the
formation of one of these virtual wholes. If their shares in
the work were not absolutely equal, then one was superior to
the other, and supremacy implies unity. This reasoning, chiefly
directed against the hypothesis of two creators, applies a for
tiori to that of three or more. If to this strong presumption
we add the fact, that we have abundant evidence of the being
of one God, but not a shadow of proof that there is more than
one, the doctrine of the Divine unity is established beyond all
question.
Creation everywhere evinces unity of design. Is the universe,
then, one of these virtual wholes ? Does it everywhere evince
unity of design, and show such a correlation of parts, that the
whole may properly be considered as an organism, or as the
result of the parts, and not merely as their aggregate ? To give
all the evidence for the affirmative of this question, would require
404. THE UNITY OF GOD.
an enumeration of particulars too copious for your time and
patience ; but enough may be adduced here to leave no doubt
upon the subject.
The universe is composed of matter and mind, and it is in the
close, but, as we believe, temporary, union of these component
parts, and in their present mutual dependence and fitness for
each other, that the more striking part of the proof consists.
But we will look first at the material universe alone ; and in
doing this, I must use, for brevity of speech, the common
phraseology of physical science, though with the protest already
expressed against the mechanical theory which it implies. Sup
ply the correction in every case, by substituting for supposed
secondary causes, the immediate agency of the Divine mind, and
the argument becomes all the stronger.
The general laws of the physical universe evince the unity of
their cause. Consider, first, that the same physical laws, as
wonderful for their simplicity as for the vastness of their sphere
of operation, govern the motions and determine the state of all
the particles and all the aggregations of matter which make up
the solar and stellar systems. Through the principles of inertia
and the equality of action and reaction, it is demonstrable, that,
if I strike the ground with a hammer, the effect produced, small
as it is, is propagated beyond the path of Neptune. It is the
same law of gravity which guides the falling of a tear, and gov
erns the revolutions of the planets ; which binds the influences
of the Pleiades, and loosens the bands of Orion. The simplicity
of this law enables us to calculate its effects with so much pre
cision, that, notwithstanding the erratic path, as it appears to
direct observation, which the planets describe in our sky, the
astronomer turns his telescope with perfect confidence to a mere
point in the heavens, where one of these bodies will be found at
a given moment a century hence. It has been justly observed,
that, but for this marvellous coincidence of observation with the
calculated results, we should wholly distrust the assumed pre
cision and minuteness of our knowledge of bodies, which are
seemingly so far removed from the sphere of human agency
and research. Again, the light which streams from these re-
THE UNITY OF GOD. 405
mote orbs, is in all respects identical with that produced by
artificial means to illumine our own dwellings ; it is diffused in
the same manner, travels with the same speed, obeys the same
laws of reflection and refraction, and the experiments made in
one are repeated with unerring precision in the other. If we
extend our view over vast tracts of time, as well as space, the
operations of nature still appear uniform, exact, and unchange
able ; the same laws hold.* The astronomer calculates and
verifies the observations made by the shepherds on the plains
of Chaldasa, and the eclipses that were noted in China at the
distant period when that empire seems to have excelled all other
nations of the earth in physical science.
If we come down to the properties and internal constitution
of the various substances with which we are surrounded, to the
* The eyes of the Trilobites of the transition rocks, says Dr. Buckland,
" give information regarding the condition of the ancient sea and ancient
atmosphere, and the relation of both these media to light, at the remote
period when the earliest marine animals were furnished with instruments
of vision, in which the minute optical adaptations were the same that im
part the perception of light to Crustaceans now living at the bottom of
the sea.
" With respect to the waters wherein the Trilobites maintained their ex
istence throughout the entire period of the transition formation, we con
clude that they could not have been that imaginary turbid and compound
chaotic fluid, from the precipitates of which some geologists have supposed
the materials of the surface of the earth to be derived ; because the struc
ture of the eyes of these animals is such, that any kind of fluid at the
bottom of which these eyes could have been sufficient, must have been
pure and transparent enough to allow the passage of light to organs of
vision, the nature of which is so fully disclosed by the state of perfection in
which they are preserved. With regard to the atmosphere, also, we infer
that, had it differed materially from its actual condition, it might have so
far affected the rays of light, that a corresponding difference from the eyes
of existing Crustaceans would have been found in the organs on which the
impressions of such rays were then received.
" Regarding light itself, also, we learn, from the resemblance of these
most ancient organizations to existing eyes, that the mutual relations of
light to the eye, and of the eye to light, were the same at the time when
Crustaceans, endowed with the faculty of vision, were first placed at the
bottom of the primeval seas, as at the present moment."
406 THE UNITY OF GOD.
rocks, the metals, the salts, and the earths, which form the crust
of our globe, we find a similar unity of plan and the same pre
dominance of a few fixed laws. "All things in the universe,"
says Hume himself, the chief of modern skeptics, " all things are
evidently of a piece. Every thing is adjusted to every thing.
One design prevails through the whole." Cohesive attraction
binds the particles of all bodies together, their chemical ele
ments unite in the same proportions, and the numbers which
express these proportions are combined in constant ratios, so
that the results of chemical analysis are now recorded by a uni
versally applicable scheme of algebraic notation. It is quite
probable, that, before long, chemistry will attain the rank of an
exact science. The simple bodies retain their properties all
over the globe ; one lump of a metal or an earth is always a
perfect specimen of the rest, though found in opposite hemi
spheres. The specific gravity, determined to the thousandth
part of a grain, is a perfect test of the purity of gold, whether it
is brought from Peru or the Ural Mountains. The elements of
pure water, the constituents of the atmosphere, are the same,
and are combined in precisely the same proportions, wherever
water flows, or the air penetrates.
Unity of plan in the animal kingdom. The organic king
doms show a still more marvellous unity of plan, and a nicer
adaptation to each other and to the inorganic world. The
chemistry here is more intricate, but it is still uniform ; and its
complexity arises from the great variety of purposes which
organism is designed to answer, and from the numberless rela
tions which bind each to each throughout the animal and vege
table creations.* Remembering how the same general type of
the skeleton is preserved throughout the vertebrate branch,
* " It was a great discovery in physiology, when it was ascertained that
all vertebrata, that fishes, as well as reptiles, as well as birds, as well as
mammalia, arose from eggs, which have one and the same uniform struc
ture in the beginning, and proceed to produce animals, as widely different
as they are in their full-grown state, simply by successive gradual meta
morphoses ; and these metamorphoses upon one and the same plan, accord
ing to one and the same general process." Agassiz.
THE UNITY OP GOD. 407
amidst numberless modifications of the size and shape of all its
parts, so that each animal might be fitted for the exigencies of
its peculiar situation and the part it has to play, believe, if
you can, that one mind did not preside over the formation of all
the species, and adapt each to its place in one vast system.
The laws of birth, growth, and reproduction have the same
general character for all, and varieties suited to each ; the pro
gressive development of creatures that are so low down in the
scale even as the mollusca, throws light upon the embryotic
changes of the most perfect animal organism,* If we go back
to the extinct races of the oldest geological periods, so far from
finding that another general scheme then prevailed, we seem to
witness the historical development of one and the same plan ;
the fossil varieties fill up some gaps that appear in the scale as
it exists at present, and the order in which the several new cre
ations appeared, shows with what facility the plan was adapted
to the greatest variety of circumstances. Indeed, the whole
science of zoology, with the light that it has received from re
cent investigations, is a most instructive commentary upon the
doctrine of the unity of God.
Animals and vegetables and the atmosphere work together in
one system, Extending our view to the vegetable creation,
and to the relations which connect it with the animal kingdom,
* " To study the phenomena manifested by a single individual, would
give us an idea of the organic world as imperfect as that which an astron
omer would obtain of the sidereal system, by studying the motions and
phenomena of a single planet. It is not true that there exists, strictly
speaking, a physiology, as of man, peculiar to a single being. Examine
any organ, and the processes of which it is the seat, in a given animal ; then
refer to any other being in the animal series, and you will generally find
the organ and its processes repeated. Examine the process of respiration,
as it exists in men and in those animals nearly allied to him, and it will be
seen, that, so far as regards the essential process, it is one and the same in
all, though the manner in which it is carried out may vary to a consider
able degree in the different races. By the researches of the comparative
physiologist, it has been shown that the animal kingdom is subdivided into
certain great groups, and that all the members of those groups are con
structed on one and the same plan." Jeffries Wyman.
408 THE UNITY OF GOD,
we obtain fresh and beautiful illustrations of the same great
truth. The two kingdoms are essential to each other s existence,
both entering into the circuit through which inorganic matter
passes, sustaining organic life on its way, and then returning to
its primitive or elementary state. " While animals," says the
most eminent botanist of this country, Dr. A. Gray, " consume
the oxygen of the air, and give back carbonic acid, which is in
jurious to their life, this carbonic acid is the principal element
of the food of vegetables, is consumed and decomposed by them,
and its oxygen restored for the use of animals. Henoe the per
fect adaptation of the two great kingdoms of living beings to
each other ; each removing from the atmosphere what would
be noxious to the other ; each yielding to the atmosphere
what is essential to the continual existence of the other." And
further, " Animals consume what vegetables produce. They
themselves produce nothing directly from the mineral world.
The herbiverous animals take from vegetables the organized
matter which they have produced ; a part of it they consume,
and in respiration restore the materials to the atmosphere, from
which plants derived them, in the very form, in which they were
taken, namely, as carbonic acid and water. The portion they
accumulate in their tissues constitutes the food of carnivorous
animals, who consume and return to the air the greater part
during life, and the remainder in decay, after death. The at
mosphere, therefore, out of which plants create nourishment,
and to which animals, as they consume, return it, forms the nec
essary link between the animal and vegetable kingdoms, and
thus completes the great cycle of organic existence. Organized
matter passes through various stages in vegetables, is raised to
higher conditions in the herbiverous animals, undergoes its final
transformations in the carnivorous animals. Portions are con
sumed at every stage, and, leaving the ascending current, fall
back to the mineral kingdom, to which the whole, having accom
plished its revolutions, finally returns."
We are accustomed to consider the unity of organization of
a single plant or animal, to trace the relation, for instance,
of digestion to the supply of blood or nutritive fluid, or respira-
THE UNITY OF GOD. 409
tion to the purifying of this fluid, and of its circulation to the
nutrition of every part of the body, as well as the fitness of the
vessels, conduits, and other means provided for carrying on this
round of operations, the growth and continued existence of one
particular organism being the combined result. But does not
this grand circuit of animate and inanimate nature, this mutual
dependence of the atmosphere, in regard to its purity, and of
all animal and vegetable life, point out with equal clearness the
unity of organization of the universe, and cause us to regard the
whole as one vast apparatus, from which no single organ or
portion could be taken away without vitiating the result, and
reducing the entire fabric to a chaos ?
" All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul."
The progress of science constantly finds new proofs of unity
of design. Consider, also, that the discovery or generalization
of these facts, which throw so much light upon the unity of plan
in the creation, is among the latest triumphs of science ; and
what may we not expect from the future progress of discovery,
as tending to reveal to our eyes in full, what as yet we see but
imperfectly, that there is not a stone or a clod of earth in the
crust of our globe, nor one of the shining points which dot in
myriads our nightly sky, that does not play an essential part in
the working of the universal organism, the most intimate rela
tions binding it alike to what is nearest and what is most re
mote ? It was on some small, and seemingly irregular and pur
poseless, features in the arrangement of the planetary orbits
around our sun, namely, upon the eccentricities of those orbits,
that Laplace founded the sublime calculations which demon
strated the stability of the system. What are now called the
" secular variations," because, after a long lapse of years, they
begin to retrace their steps, as it were, and thus compensate the
disturbance that had gone on increasing during that period,
were formerly regarded as disturbing causes that would operate
for ever in the same direction, so that they were proceeding
slowly, but inevitably, to make shipwreck of the whole plan.
35
410 THE UNITY OP GOD.
Laplace proved that they were cycles, and therefore that they
should be ranked highest among those periodic revolutions
which are so frequent in the economy of nature ; instead of
tending to destroy, they guaranty the permanency of the system.
When but a few more such steps have been taken in the career
of discovery, we shall see unity of organization in the universe,
as clearly as we now do in the human body.
Plants and animals formed on one plan. Coming back, in
some measure, to details, it is remarkable that we can trace
similarity of structure and function in cases apparently removed
from each other by so wide an interval, that we should not have
expected any resemblance whatever, except from the general
consideration, that order and harmony must characterize all the
works of infinite wisdom. For instance, how unlike, at the first
glance, appear plants and animals, and how dissimilar their
offices, though each kingdom, as we have seen, is necessary to
the other, and the two play an equally important part in the
accomplishment of the universal design ! Yet it is not more
certain, that the rudiments of the human skeleton, as they may
be figuratively called, can be traced in the bones of one of the
lowest fishes, than that the plant is, so to speak, a rudimentary
animal. The functions of digestion, assimilation, circulation,
nutrition, and respiration, for example, are common to the two ;
the distinction of sex belongs to both, and the means of repro
duction are strikingly similar. And, generally, the botanist will
tell you, between the organs which serve corresponding pur
poses in the two kingdoms, very obvious resemblances exist.
Nature seems for ever at work upon the same general pattern ;
she is haunted, as it were, by one idea ; and in out-of-the-way
corners of creation, whither we had wandered in search of nov
elty, we are startled by the spectral reappearance of the old
familiar face.*
* " These general views," says Prof. Sedgwick, " help us also to explain
and rationalize certain well-known phenomena, such as abortive or rudi
mentary organs ; [the existence of the mammary gland in man, for exam
ple. Blumenbach says, there are not wanting instances in which milk has
THE UNITY OF GOD. 411
Mr. Stewart speaks of " the effects which philosophical habits
and scientific pursuits have in familiarizing the mind to the
order of nature, and in improving its penetration and sagacity
in anticipating those parts of it which are yet unknown. A
man conversant with the phenomena of physics and chemistry,
is much more likely than a stranger to these studies to form
probable conjectures concerning those laws of nature which still
remain to be examined. There is a certain style, (if I may use
the expression,) in the operations of the Great Author of all
things, something which everywhere announces, amidst a
boundless variety of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of
design, and in the perception of which, what we commonly call
philosophical sagacity seems chiefly to consist. It is this which
bestows an inestimable value on the conjectures and queries of
such a philosopher as Sir Isaac Newton."
Exact balance of cooperating agents. I have but one other
remark to make, in this connection, respecting the scheme of the
material universe, which is, that the proportions of the ani
mal and vegetable kingdoms, and the constituents of the atmos
phere to each other, were not always the same as they exist at
present. There was a time, so geology tells us, when the air
was greatly overcharged with carbonic acid, and thus unfitted
for the support of animal life. Accordingly, plants were then
almost the sole representatives of organic nature, and their con
tinuous operation through many ages gradually purified the at
mosphere till animals could live in it. Animals were then
introduced, by their consumption of oxygen, and by rendering
it back united with carbon, to serve as an offset fo^ the action
been secreted from the breasts of men and other male animals.] These
organs may have a muscular use which, in some cases, we do not compre
hend. However this may be, they form a part, and an essential part, of
a great scheme ; and they help us to understand the pattern of nature s
workmanship. One use, at least, they have ; they tend to complete the
order and plan of nature ; and this, moreover, we may venture to affirm,
that the Author of Nature manifests, in examples without number, a love
of order, and harmony, and beauty, which is altogether independent of
our conceptions of mere vulgar use."
412 THE UNITY OF GOD.
of vegetables, and to prevent the stock upon which the latter
live from being eventually exhausted. Th$ present exact bal
ance between the wants and the products of the cooperating
agents in nature is the result of one great scheme, which has
come gradually to perfection, thus leading us to infer, that one
mind not only presides over the system now, but has watched
and guided it through the several stages of its growth, the com
mencement of which dates far back in eternity.
Unity of plan in the relations of mind to matter. If there
remains comparatively little to say on the unity of plan that is
evinced in the constitution of mind, and in the adaptation of the
intellectual and moral to the material universe, it is because
most of the important facts have been already mentioned in
connection with other parts of our subject. Thus, I have dwelt
at length upon the general laws which uphold and constitute
external nature, considered as the necessary means through
which reason and freewill are enabled to rival the works of in
stinct. Looking at the body, also, in its true light, as really
external and foreign to the mind which inhabits it for a season,
the laws of bodily health and disease, as formerly remarked, are
among the strongest safeguards of morals. The organs of sense
form the direct avenues of communication between the outer and
the inner world, and in their curious and delicate structure are
found the most striking tokens of infinite wisdom, adapting the
same general plan to a great variety of purposes and circum
stances. Man does not find himself a stranger upon the earth,
though he is the latest comer ; he enters a dwelling fitted and
garnished fgr his reception, and yet taxing his faculties to the
utmost, before he can ascertain and apply to use all its accom
modations and contrivances. Or rather, to change the figure,
he is admitted to a school, where the means and the stimuli of
education are furnished in great abundance, together with a
bountiful provision for his mere enjoyment.
Cooperation of the eye and the mind in vision. Even his
senses must be educated before they can do their appropriate
work. His first and most important step in knowledge, as has
been before observed, is to learn to see. The eye is sensible to
THE UNITY OF GOD. 413
the impulse of light, and the complex structure of this organ is
adapted with the utmost nicety to the laws of refraction. Thus
far, however, provision is made only for painting on the retina
a very accurate picture, though on a much reduced scale, of
external objects. The mind now must do its part in projecting
off this picture, as it were, in referring these impressions to
their outward cause, and in making the mere bodily sensation to
be the type and material of knowledge, the basis of percep
tion of surrounding things. The sensation alone can teach us
nothing as to the distance, magnitude, or even the externality
of material objects ; nor does instinct, as in the case of animals,
supply the deficiency. Slowly the mind learns to refer the sign
to the thing signified, and to spell out the world of knowledge
which at first lies hidden in the hieroglyphic language of mere
visual impressions. And when the organ is fully educated, how
quick and various is the information that it gives ! The travel
ler arrives at the crest of a hill, which commands a full prospect
of a renowned city that he had never before seen, together with
a long reach of the beautiful valley in which it lies. In a mo
ment, his eye takes in the extended and widely diversified
scene, the maze of houses and streets, the projecting spires
and towers, the swelling dome of the cathedral, the variegated
tints of roofs and walls, the tufted tops of trees rising here and
there at irregular intervals, the river winding through the vale ;
and a tolerably correct estimate of the size, distance, and rela
tive position of these objects is so quickly formed, that it seems
a part of the picture. It is marvellous that so great an acces
sion to our knowledge, so large a stock of new and interesting
perceptions, should be gained in an instant of time.
The senses proportioned to the wants and occasions of man.
Here, then, in the most familiar of all cases, body and mind
cooperate so perfectly, and the adaptation of both to the wants
of man, considered as an inhabitant of the material universe, is
so complete, that we cannot avoid referring all the parts of the
complex contrivance to one Author. Our admiration of the
design is enhanced when we reflect, that the organ of sight is
entirely formed at a period when no communication exists
35*
414 THE UNITY OF GOD.
between it and that element to which every portion of it has so
manifest a reference. The scheme of education, of self-im
provement, with its obvious moral bearings, which we have seen
to be the chief purpose of our being here below, is here visibly
kept in view in the earliest physical arrangements that are made
for our security and happiness upon earth. In other respects,
the adaptation of the organ to man s physical wants, and to the
formation of his character, is hardly less remarkable. " If, by
the help of microscopical eyes," says Locke, "a man should
penetrate further than ordinary into the secret composition and
radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advan
tage by the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to
conduct him to the market and exchange, if he could not see
things he was to avoid at a convenient distance, or distinguish
things he had to do with, by those sensible qualities others do.
He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of
the minute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe on
what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends,
would no doubt discover something very admirable ; but if eyes
so framed could not view at once the hand and the characters
of the hour-plate, and thereby discover at a distance what
o clock it was, their owner could not be much benefited by that
acuteness, which, whilst it discovered the secret contrivance of
the parts of the machine, made him lose its use."
Our mental constitution fitted to the material universe.
It would be easy to follow out this line of argument in regard
to the other senses, and the several remaining points in the
physical organization of man, and show how he is fitted in all
respects to the scale of the world in which he dwells, and to the
objects by which he is surrounded. " No other cause," says an
eminent naturalist, " can be assigned why a man was not made
five or ten times bigger, but his relation to the rest of the uni
verse." The law of the association of ideas, which is the regu
lative principle of memory, corresponds so exactly with the uni
form succession of cause and effect, which is the regulative prin
ciple of the universe, that no one can doubt that the one was
specially designed to be the complement of the ot ner. The
THE UNITY OF GOD. 415
child associates the idea of burning with that of the fire, and
every pleasant or painful feeling reminds him of the occasion
when it was first excited ; on these connections of thought, the
whole value of experience depends. If memory acted disor
derly, the effect, for all practical purposes, would be the same
as if events succeeded each other at random, and not in an
unchangeable sequence. Before the past can be a safe guide as
to the future, it is necessary, not only that the same effect should
always follow the same cause, but also that the sight of the cause
should always and instantly remind us of what is sure to suc
ceed. In this respect, as in many others, the mind is a micro
cosm ; it mirrors to us those aspects of external nature which
are most necessary to be presented for the safety of the individ
ual. The law of causation is also the law of memory.*
Uniformity of human nature. A still more pleasing proof
of uniformity of design may be found in the preservation of
the common type of humanity among all nations, and in all
ages of the world. Make out the difference as wide as you
can between the savage and the civilized man, yet it is as
nothing when compared with the interval which lies between
the savage and the brute. This interval is constant. Exhaust
all the means and artifices of instruction upon one of the
* The uniformity in the instincts of brutes, moreover, as Dugald Stewart
has observed, presupposes a corresponding regularity in the phenomena of
the material universe ; " insomuch that, if the established order of the
material world were to be essentially disturbed, (the instincts of the brutes
remaining the same,) all their various tribes would inevitably perish. The
uniformity of animal instinct, therefore, bears a reference to the constancy
and immutability of physical laws, not less manifest than that of the fin
of the fish to the properties of water, or of the wing of the bird to those of
the atmosphere." " Through this uniformity in their instincts, also, man
can better maintain his empire over them, and employ them to greater ad
vantage as means or instruments for accomplishing his purposes. The
instincts, as we have seen, allow some latitude of action, so that the brutes
can accommodate themselves, in a small degree, to the ordinary vicissi
tudes of their condition ; and thus they are incomparably more serviceable
to man than they would have been, if, like brute matter, they were always
subjected to regular and assignable causes."
416 THE UNITY OF GOD.
lower animals, and he never even approaches the boundary
line of humanity. On the other hand, all projects for re
claiming the criminal or the savage, go upon the supposition
that he is a human being, like ourselves, - that he is moved
by the same desires, agitated by the same passions, and has
faculties which, though latent now, are capable of as high de
velopment. We instinctively recognize this common human
ity, and act upon it ; the taking of human life is everywhere
viewed as a grave and awful deed, to be justified only by
pressing necessity; while mere animal existence is sacrificed
without a touch of remorse. Persons of delicate feelings, in
deed, may shrink from the work; but their repugnance is
founded mainly on an amiable illusion, which invests the dumb
creature a favorite domestic animal, perhaps with some of
the attributes of humanity. The individuals who make up the
race are constantly changing ; one generation succeeds another,
and, at the close of a century, hardly one human being survives
who was alive at its commencement. But the unchanging
characteristics, the type, of the species, survive all mutations,
and the subject of history is still the same. In every age and
every country, the great features of humanity appear as stead
fast as if they were engraved in marble. " It is this," says an
eminent writer, " which gives the great charm to what we call
nature in epic and dramatic compositions ; when the poet speaks
a language to which every heart is an echo, and which, amidst
all the effects of education and fashion in modifying and dis
guising the principles of our constitution, reminds all the
various classes of readers or spectators of the existence of those
moral ties which unite us to each other and to our common
Parent."
Result of the discussion. The facts upon which I have
dwelt in this chapter are sufficiently familiar ; and it is true of
all of them, that they suggest, rather than prove, the great doc
trine of the unity of God. The truth of this doctrine is suffi
ciently established, as was remarked in the outset, by the ab
sence of all evidence to the contrary. We have abundant
testimony that one Gocl exists ; we have not even an intimation
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 417
that there is more than one ; and this is enough. I have sought
to show, however, that this truth, like the other doctrines of
natural theology, is continually suggested to us by a study of
the universe in which we live, and of which we form a part.
In the unity of our own life and consciousness, we find reflected
the unity of Him from whom we derived our being. " Every
man, a single, active, conscious self, is the image of his Maker.
There is in him one undivided animating principle, which, in its
perceptions and operations, runs through the whole system of
matter that it inhabits ; it perceives for the most distant parts
of the body ; it cares for all and governs all ; thus leading us,
by analogy, to form an idea of the one great quickening Spirit
which presides over the whole frame of nature, the spring of all
motion and operation in it, understanding and active in all parts
of the universe, not as its soul, indeed, but as its Lord, by
whose vital directing influence it is, though so vast a bulk and
consisting of so many parts, united into one regular fabric."
CHAPTER IX.
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL CANNOT BE PROVED
WITHOUT THE AID OF REVELATION.
Summary of the last chapter. Polytheism, it was remarked
in the last chapter, is the religion of a barbarous age, and of the
uncultivated understanding. It is the natural product of the
religious sentiment before the reasoning power is developed, or
the mind informed by reflection and careful study of the phe
nomena of the physical and moral universe. I do not say that
polytheism is a natural form of religion, because I do not be
lieve that barbarism and ignorance are natural to man. The
418 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
great purpose of our being, as I have attempted to show, is self-
improvement in the largest sense, is moral, intellectual, and
religious progress achieved by our own efforts ; and we are in
our natural condition only when we are active in that work.
Barbarism is no otherwise natural to the human race than in
fancy is ; it is a point of departure, a commencement of growth.
The religious sentiment of an uncivilized people first manifests
itself in idolatry, that is, in a worship of false gods, or a sys
tem of polytheism. History and the reports of travellers inform
us, that this is the universal faith of savage tribes. A few
minds, far in advance of the others in refinement and habits of
reflection, may throw off this belief of the populace ; but they
usually take refuge from it in general skepticism or fanciful
speculation, rather than in pure theism. It is of no more use,
then, to disprove polytheism than to argue against barbarism ;
that cannot be disproved which does not rest upon argument or
conviction, and which is not so much an opinion or belief, as a
popular delusion, the origin or natural history of which is dis
tinctly traceable.
There is no need, then, I remarked, to prove the unity of the
Deity, because nothing can be alleged against it ; and having
found one cause that accounts for all the phenomena, it is a
wholly gratuitous hypothesis to suppose that there are other
causes. Still, a study of God s works in various ways indicates
or suggests the unity of their Author, and I briefly reviewed
some of these indications. The universe, I endeavored to show,
is an organism, all its parts being essential to the perfection of
the whole. The same laws prevail throughout its immeasu
rable extent, governing alike the least events and the greatest.
Light, gravitation, electricity, chemical affinity, and the like, are
universally operating agents, that bind all the parts of the vast
system together. Organized life, whether animal or vegetable,
is cast in the same general mould, the great features of one plan
being preserved throughout, though with numberless modifica
tions to adapt it to particular cases. The boundary lines of the
species are immovable, the type of each race being preserved
through countless generations. P^nts and animals resemble
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 419
**ich other in their organs and functions, and, in connection
with the atmosphere, form a great circuit through which matter
is continually passing, alternately in an organic and an inorganic
state. All these physical laws and agencies can be traced up
to their ultimate purpose, in the education of mind and the for
mation of character ; thus the universe of matter and mind con
stitutes one whole, all the parts working to one great end, so
that we are unavoidably guided to the conclusion, that it has but
one Author, Designer, and Sovereign.
The proof of the other attributes of God, to the full extent
that is needed for religious faith and practice, follows immedi
ately from the doctrines that have already been established.
He is omnipresent and omniscient, who not only designed and
created, but directs and governs, all. His power and wisdom
are commensurate with his works ; and as those works consti
tute but one system, and are directed to one end, every portion
of it, however minute, is essential to its perfection and con
tinuance, and therefore cannot have escaped his oversight and
control. The sphere of his existence is certainly coextensive
with the sphere of his operation ; and this, in our ignorance of
the true relation of pure mind to space, is the only conception
that we can form of universal presence. Whether this ubiquity,
in the language of the schools, be virtual or essential, those can
judge who can best determine whether the human agent, the
indivisible unit of personality, is directly or mediately present
through the whole of the complex structure of bones and mus
cles which it inhabits, and with every portion of which it cer
tainly exists in intimate union. The question is one purely of
curiosity or mere speculation ; the attribute is made known to
us as real to the full extent to which we are able to form a con
ception of it. There is little use in being able to demonstrate
the reality of what is inconceivable.
The duration of the Deity is infinite, since the argument
adopted does not stop short of the First Cause, and that which
is uncaused must have existed from everlasting. Moreover,
that which is ingenerable must also be incorruptible ; for there
cannot have been originally any cause of dissolution from with
420 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
out, and any inherent principles of decay and ruin must have
manifested themselves during an infinite series of years. If
they have not done so in the infinite duration that is past, it is
a proof that they do not exist, and that there are none to operate
in all future time. Again, as the agency of the Supreme Being
throughout his physical creation is immediate, his moral govern
ment is also immediate. The whole series of arrangements and
events by which his law is made known to man, and is upheld
by the ordinary course of human affairs, is the direct conse
quence of his presence aad action. The uniformity of this
action is a proof of his wisdom and the unchangeable character
of his purposes ; but it is no proof that his government is
exerted through agencies or means which are left to operate of
themselves, without his constant supervision and power. The
complete recognition of this great truth, the immediate and uni
versal government of God, is the vital principle of all religion,
the sustaining belief without which true piety cannot exist.
The infinity of the Divine Attributes considered. I am
aware of the common objection to the reasoning which has here
been pursued, that human experience, arguing from a limited
number of effects, can only establish the existence of a cause
proportionate to them, or that the infinite power and wisdom
of the Deity cannot be inferred directly from the finite evi
dences, which alone are subject to our observation. The im
portance of this objection will depend upon the meaning we
attach to the word infinite. It is commonly said to imply, in
regard to the Deity, not merely that his power and wisdom are
"beyond all comparison greater than any such qualities pos
sessed by ourselves," but that these attributes exist " in such a
degree, that any extent whatever of them being either presented
to our observation or conceived by our imagination, the Deity
possesses them in a still greater degree, a degree to which
our conception can affix no bounds." Now, of course, we cannot
demonstrate a fact which is inconceivable, any more than we
can prove a proposition which is unintelligible ; so far as the
infinity of God cannot be comprehended or understood by the
human mind, so far is it removed from the sphere of all argu-
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 421
ment. Our only understanding of an infinite quality is that of
one which has no limits or restraint, nothing to prevent it from
existing to an indefinite extent or perfection. In this sense, the
infinity of the Divine attributes does admit of full proof. The
universe, indeed, is finite, in respect both to space and time ; but
it comprehends all that is, its Creator and Ruler alone excepted.
The universe, then, being subject to him, as his creature or the
work of his hands, there is nothing beyond it to limit his per
fections ; no restraint, no bound, therefore, is possible. Or the
same reasoning may be proposed in another form : from the
unity and infinite duration of the Supreme Being, it follows,
that a time must have been when he was literally all in all ;
every thing that now exists is derived from him, or was made
by him, and he must have existed before any thing was made.
Then he must have been infinite, as nothing existed to set
bounds to his attributes ; and what has been created since cannot
limit them, as otherwise the creature would be more perfect
than the Creator.
What doctrines properly belong to Natural Religion. I have
now finished all that it seems appropriate on the present occasion
to say respecting those doctrines of Natural Religion which rest
upon full and satisfactory evidence, and so cannot be called in
question without impeaching the validity of the ordinary laws
of belief, and denying the capacity of man to obtain a knowl
edge of any facts that lie beyond the immediate cognizance of
the senses. Many will think that I have attempted both too
much and too little ; too much, because I have tried to prove,
from the light of reason and nature alone, that the moral and
physical government of the Deity is immediate and incessant,
every event, even the minutest, being directly caused by him
with a view to the moral and religious improvement of man ;
and too little, because I have omitted all argument for the im
mortality of the soul, and have not considered it necessary, in
order to vindicate the justice and goodness of God, to represent
our present existence only as a preparation for a life beyond the
grave, or to maintain that the scheme of Providence which is
now visible to us, is but a faint and imperfect image of a more
36
422 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
glorious one, which is to be unfolded in some subsequent stage
of our being. As to the former objection, I need not recapitu
late the argument that has been laid before you, and which is
satisfactory to my own mind, in favor of the immediate agency
and perfect moral government of God. As to the latter, I hold
that the. doctrine of the immortality of the soul cannot be proved
from the light of nature, that there is, indeed, no presumption
against it, but nothing conclusive or reasonably satisfactory in its
favor, that men never have attained to a full belief in it ex
cept by direct aid from on high, and that all proper faith in
the doctrine rests upon revelation alone.
Insufficiency of the argument from the light of nature illus
trated. The only evidence of a future life which the unassisted
reason can furnish, is of the same kind, and has about equal
force, with the argument that is commonly offered, I will not say
to prove, but to show that it is not unlikely, that the other
planets and satellites of our system are tenanted by human
beings like ourselves. Certainly we cannot disprove this hy
pothesis, and I do not think that there is any strong presumption
against it. Why should the third attendant orb, counting from
our sun, be fully stocked with animal and vegetable life, while
the second and the fourth are left desolate, answering no other
purpose known to us but that of preserving the balance of the
system, and of appearing as shining points in our firmament ?
The only rational answer to this question is, that we do not know.
The subject lies as much beyond the reach of our faculties, as
the bodies themselves do beyond the cognizance of our senses.
The impossibility of disproving the conjecture that these orba
are inhabited, proceeds from the same cause as the difficulty of
substantiating it, namely, that we have no facts to reason
about, no knowledge of the circumstances of the case.
Persons who are fond of pure speculation and hypothesis are
very apt to confound what may be, for aught we know to the
contrary, with what is, so far as we are able positively to deter
mine it from our present means of observation and experiment ;
they mistake the possibility that is measured only by human
ignorance, for the probability that is fairly inferred by the legiti-
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 423
mate exercise of the understanding. But we cannot found
knowledge upon ignorance ; and the theorist who has had no
experience under the conditions of his theory, and has no
proper knowledge of the subjects to which it relates, necessarily
speaks from ignorance and appeals to ignorance, so that, even
if we could not point out a single difficulty, a single false
assumption, in his whole scheme and argument, it would still
remain a mere hypothesis, alike incapable of proof and disproof.
The fallacy to which such speculatists have recourse, is, that the
weakness or the absence of any considerations against their
theory constitutes a positive argument in its support. No such
thing ; it affords only a fair presumption of the baseless char
acter of the w r hole fabric. We cannot prove a negative ; we
can show only the insufficiency of the ground on which an
assumption is made to rest. " So far as nature is concerned,"
says Prof. Sedgwick, " philosophy has nothing to do with what
may be, but with what is"
The argument for more worlds than one compared with the
argument for the immortality of the soul. Coming back for a
while to the hypothesis of inhabited planets, it may be remarked,
that the common argument in its favor is founded, first, upon
the impossibility of seeing or proving that they are not inhab
ited ; secondly, upon the analogy between their situation and
circumstances, and those of our own globe ; and thirdly, upon
the assumed fact, that it is inconsistent with what we know of
the character and purposes of the Deity, to suppose that he
would leave such large orbs tenantless. Change only a few
names of things in this description, and it becomes a very exact
analysis of the ordinary reasoning, from the light of nature, to
prove the immortality of the soul. This argument rests, first,
upon the impossibility of seeing or proving that what we call
death, is the absolute termination of our personal existence ;
secondly, upon the analogy between the transformation which
takes place at the close of the embryotic period, (which is a stage
in all animal life, our own included,) and the transformation
which we may suppose to occur at death ; and thirdly, upon the
assumption, that the course of affairs in this life, the prevalence
424 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
of sin and suffering, and the promiscuous distribution of happi
ness, are inconsistent with our notions of the character of the
Supreme Being, are irreconcilable with Divine wisdom, justice,
and love, so that we must suppose a future state of existence,
to give opportunity for redress, for completion, and for retri
bution.
The reasoning is loth unsound and presumptuous. I may here
remark, that it is the offensive, and, as I think, groundless, nature
of this last argument, which makes one feel less scrupulous
about exposing the fallacy of the whole reasoning. Those who
have labored most earnestly to establish, independently of Rev
elation, the doctrine of a future life, have unwittingly decried
and calumniated the course of Providence in the government
of this world s affairs. That there is some danger in pressing
such considerations, has been shown by Mr. Hume, who argues
with much plausibility, " that the only safe principle, on which
we can pretend to judge of those parts of the universe which
have not fallen under our examination, is by concluding them
to be analogous to what we have observed.
Of God above or man below,
What can we reason but from what we know ?
Now, the only fact we know with respect to the moral govern
ment of God is, that the distribution of happiness and misery in
human life is in a great measure promiscuous. Is it not, then,
a most extraordinary inference from this fact, to conclude that
there must be a future state of existence to correct the inequal
ities of the present scene ? Would it not be more reasonable,
and more agreeable to the received rules of philosophizing, to
conclude, either that the idea of a future state is a mere chimera,
or that, if such an idea shall ever be realized, the distribution
of happiness and misery will continue to be as promiscuous as
we have experienced it to be ? "
The same kind of conclusion obtained in the two cases. Re
turning to the comparison, we may observe, that as the reason
ing in the two cases is parallel and of the same intrinsic weight,
it might be expected that we should arrive at the same sort of
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 425
conclusion. All will admit, that it is not impossible that the
planets should be inhabited; some will think that the balance of
probability, on the whole, inclines in favor of the hypothesis.
But no one, certainly, will place this hypothesis among the ac
credited facts of science, and make it a basis of his calculations
and reasoning upon cognate subjects. Just so, looking at the
matter in the light of nature alone, we must confess, that it is
not impossible that this life should extend beyond the grave;
perhaps there are a few faint indications that it will, a few
gleams that pierce the darkness of that undiscovered bourn from
whence no traveller returns ; but he who fully accepts and be
lieves the doctrine, allows his wish to be father of the thought,
and must be ready, on all occasions, to yield his faith on very
slight testimony. I do not say, that, in such a case, he would
be justified in disregarding, practically, the least chance of the
doctrine proving true ; for this, unlike the question respecting
the planets, is a practical matter, and a wise man will always
choose the safe side. It is not likely, perhaps, that one of those
who are assembled to hear a sermon, will die within the hour ;
but it is the part both of prudence and of duty, so to act as if the
knell were to be sounded for each within that time. In ab
stract cases, however, in matters of pure science, we argue very
differently ; nothing can be accepted here which is not proved.
In examining the other doctrines of natural theology, it has
been my aim throughout to show, that they are supported by
evidence of the same general character w r ith that on which the
whole fabric of inductive science depends, though it is stronger
and more abundant than what is often admitted to be conclusive
in scientific reasoning. The natural arguments for a future life
do not come up to this test ; they cannot sustain this compari
son ; and I therefore discard them, that they may not discredit
the reasoning employed to defend the other truths of natural
religion.
Continuation of the parallel. I continue the parallel which
has been begun, by showing that virtually the same answer may
be made to the proofs alleged in either case. First, the impossi
bility of proving that life is confined to our planet, or that the
36*
426 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
grave is the limit of human existence, as I have already shown,
is no argument at all to prove that the other planets are inhab
ited, or that the*soul cannot die. It simply clears the ground
for it, if such an argument should ever be discovered. It
leaves the subject entirely open, as one which we know nothing
about, and therefore as one that affords no occasion either for
belief or disbelief. The well-known principle, that the burden
of proof rests upon him who maintains the affirmative in a dis
cussion, is a dictate of common sense, no less than of sound logic.
I admit this impossibility to the fullest extent, and still maintain,
that not one step has been taken towards the solution of the
problem.
Secondly, the analogy that is offered, in the one case, ap
peared just as applicable, a few years ago, to our moon, as to
the planets Venus and Mars, nay, even more applicable, as,
owing to the nearness of our satellite, the circumstances are
more nearly alike. But the recent discovery that our moon has
neither atmosphere nor water, and that its surface is an almost
chaotic scene of volcanic action, renders it almost demonstrable
that it is not inhabited. If the analogy leads to a false conclu
sion where it is most nearly perfect, what confidence can we
place in it where it is incomplete ? In the other case, the anal
ogy offered is just as conclusive for proving the immortality of
an oyster, as that of a man, the former having also passed
through embryotic transformations. He who builds his faith,
therefore, upon this analogy between birth and death, must
accept the doctrine of the Indian,
" Who thinks, admitted to that distant sky,
His faithful dog will bear him company."
To some writers upon the subject, this conclusion has not ap
peared so revolting as to induce them to give up the argument ;
but as it is certain that the lower animals have no moral nature
whatever, their immortality seems very questionable.
Thirdly, the argument that is based upon our opinion of what
is required by the nature of the Divine attributes, in cases
which go beyond our experience, our wants, and our powers of
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 427
observation, appears, as I have already hinted, both unsound and
presumptuous. You say, in the one case, that Divine wisdom
cannot have created bodies so large as the planets, for no other
purpose than that of keeping up the balance of the system,
and that no purpose is so worthy as that of making them the
abodes of vegetable, animal, and human life. After all, then,
the force of your reasoning depends upon the size of these bodies ;
for if they were no larger each than a grain of sand, the suppo
sition that they are inhabited would never have been made.
But our ideas of magnitude are wholly relative ; or, at any
rate, to Omnipotence, the task of creating a planet is no greater
than that of fashioning a grain of sand. Is it derogatory to tho
wisdom of the Almighty to suppose, that any particle of earth
or rock upon our own globe does not contribute its part to tho
support of life ? Who will venture to decide in a case present
ing so many considerations that are obviously beyond the reach
of the human intellect? * Besides, we have no assurance that
* The recent publication in England of an eloquent and ingenious essay
on " The Plurality of Worlds," supposed to be written by Dr. Whewell,
has revived the discussion of this question, whether there are other orbs in
the solar and stellar systems which are inhabited like our earth. The
work has been answered with considerable ability and acrimony by Sir
David Brewster, at first in the pages of the North British Review, and
afterwards in a separate publication, entitled " More Worlds than One."
Thus we have elaborate arguments, one on each side of the question, from
two of the most eminent men of science in Great Britain. Each conclu
sively shows the weakness of his opponent s case, and thus indirectly leads
the reader s mind to the proper result, that there are no materials for
forming an opinion on either side of the question. Dr. Whewell began at
a disadvantage, by undertaking to prove a negative; he has very ingen
iously brought together the scanty data which astronomical science affords,
for judging of the physical condition of other planets, and of the members
of other systems, in order to prove that such a being as man could not ex
ist upon any one of them. His antagonist evades such reasoning alto
gether, by stating that the physical constitution of the inhabitants of other
worlds may be very different from ours, and yet be as happily adapted to
their abode, as ours is to this earth. This consideration alone, to which
no answer is possible, is enough to confute all the positive arguments on
the other side ; we have only to give the reins to our imaginations, and
conceive of the moral and intellectual endowments of human beings lodged
428 THE IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL.
the extension of the plan of organic creation, as it is developed
upon the surface of our earth, is the only object, or the worthiest
in the bodies of fishes, birds, or mythological monsters, in order to find fit
inhabitants for tenanting any world under any conceivable circumstances.
Sir David Brewster triumphs in this view of the case ; but he forgets that
it is his duty, as maintaining the affirmative side of the question, to ad
duce some proof, some shadow of direct argument, that other worlds than
our own are inhabited. This he cannot do ; the whole positive plea upon
his side consists in a very faint analogy, and a very arrogant assumption.
The known points of resemblance between this earth and its sister orbs
are neither many nor important ; the analogy between them, though it
may amuse the fancy, cannot direct the judgment. Man cannot so far
scan the designs of Omnipotence, as to be able to affirm, that any portion
of the universe exists without a purpose, if it be not inhabited by beings
like ourselves. From the very nature of the case, the utmost that Sir
David Brewster can do, is, to show that, in a certain case, the conditions
are fulfilled which render human existence possible. In other words, he
can only show, that man might live there ; but this is not advancing a step
towards the proof, that man does live there. Man might have lived on
Pitcairn s Island, before the mutineers of the Bounty went thither ; or on
Juan Fernandez, before Alexander Selkirk made it his home ; but as a
matter-of-fact, he did not live in either of the places, till these events took
place.
Dr. WhewelFs best point is his reply to the common assertion of his
antagonists, that it would be unworthy of Omnipotence to leave such vast
orbs as Mars and Jupiter uninhabited by rational beings. He answers
that, as the geologists have satisfactorily proved, this earth did exist,
through unnumbered ages, as the abode only of reptiles and still lower
orders of being. It was only a few thousand years ago, that the earth
seems to have become ripe, so to speak, for the habitation of man. Other
planets and other systems may yet be passing through similar ages of
preparation may not yet be ready for this grand consummation of the
purpose for which they were created. Here, again, the argument is con
clusive against those who dogmatically maintain the opposite side of the
question ; but it is no answer at all, to those who find as little reason to
deny as to affirm, that the planets are inhabited, and who content them
selves with saying, that the matter is beyond the reach of the human fac
ulties.
On the whole, the discussion between these two savans, brilliant and
amusing as it is, leaves the question precisely where it was before, a
matter for fanciful speculation, but not for scientific research or true
knowledge.
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 429
one, that can engage the attention of the Deity. Our observa
tion is limited to a speck of earth, and we may not spell out all
His designs to whom the universe is indebted for its being.
So, in the other case, the assumption, that the existence of evil
belies all our notions of the goodness of the Creator, must de
pend on our ideas of the nature and magnitude of that evil. If
the presence of misfortune and wrong in any shape, or to any
extent, is inconsistent with his perfections, then the permission
of them, even for a limited period, though they should be redressed
or removed in a future life, leaves a stain upon his attributes.
It may be consoling for us to believe, that the virtue which
does not meet with its desert in this stage of existence, will be
rewarded or compensated hereafter ; but this does not remove
the reproach from the administration of Him who has the gov
ernment equally of this life and of that which is to come. Be
sides, what do you assume to be the only proper reward of purity
and virtue ? Is it happiness ? Then is happiness man s great
est good, and holiness is only a means for its attainment. You
shrink instinctively from this conclusion, and still demand
another life, or the immortality of the soul, not as a means for
the improvement of character, an object which is obtainable in
this world, with all its imputed defects and evils, but as a sphere
or an opportunity for the more perfect enjoyment that you
crave. Turn the matter as we may, there is selfishness, as well
as presumption, in thus building our hopes of another life on the
supposed imperfect justice with which the concerns of this life
are administered.
Insufficiency of the metaphysical argument for a future state.
Leaving now this parallel, which I have followed so far only
to show, that the reasoning which would not be admitted as
legitimate in the ordinary investigations of science, must be re
jected also in theology, I pass to a more particular examination
of the usual arguments for the immortality of the soul, or rather
for a future state, inasmuch as hardly one of these arguments
has any bearing upon the subject of an endless existence. They
are properly divided into the metaphysical and the moral argu
ment, the former being derived from the immaterial or indi-
430 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
visible nature of mind or self, while the latter is drawn chiefly
from a comparison of the constitution of man with the circum
stances in which he is placed at present.* In the former, it is
urged that death is a very different thing from annihilation, and
though the course of nature gives us abundant instances of the
one, it furnishes not a single example of the other. What we
call death, is the cessation of the activity of a complex organism
or machine, the various parts of which subsequently decay, or
are resolved into their primitive elements ; but not an atom of
them is lost, not one particle is annihilated. The carcass of an
animal is resolved into its constituent gases and earths, which
go, for a time, to increase the stock of inorganic matter, per
haps to be again withdrawn from it, to enter into fresh com
binations, and contribute to the support of a new life. Here is
no absolute destruction, nothing but the resolution of a com
pound into its elements, and the formation of new compounds.
There is no reason to believe that the quantity of matter in the
* Strictly speaking, the metaphysical argument proves only the
bility of a future state, and is insufficient, because we can never argue from
what may be, to what is. We know, for instance, that the ichthyosaurus is
a possible animal, for we find its remains entombed in the solid rock ; but
we also know that the ichthyosaurus does not now exist upon this earth.
The moral argument is intended to show the probability of man s future
existence, and is unsatisfactory because it rests upon two groundless as
sumptions ; first, that the presence of apparent evil in this life cannot be
explained without impeaching the goodness of the Creator ; and secondly,
that the supposition of a future life, from which evil is excluded, is a satis
factory way, and the only way, of vindicating the Divine benevolence. I
deny all these postulates. As we have already seen, the doctrine that vir
tue, not happiness, is man s highest interest, disproves the alleged exi 
